good storm here late this afternoon and a rainbow afterward---before that the young people had gotten a little rowdy---they brought their own table down to the pool and were having some sort of drinking game or something----lotta yelling and cheering
Posted by
tomitron
at
6/28/2008 09:23:00 PM
Each of us is all the sums he has not counted: subtract us into nakedness and night again, and you shall see begin in Crete four thousand years ago the love that ended yesterday in Texas.
The seed of our destruction will blossom in the desert, the alexin of our cure grows by a mountain rock, and our lives are haunted by a Georgia slattern, because a London cutpurse went unhung. Each moment is the fruit of forty thousand years. The minute-winning days, like flies, buzz home to death, and every moment is a window on all time.
john northbrooke, c. 1570
No comments:
Post a Comment