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[Sep. 22nd, 2019|01:58 pm] |
 | My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown;
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband's foot:
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready; ( may it do him ease. ) |
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| Once Upon a Midnight Dreary |
[Oct. 2nd, 2011|06:40 pm] |
It's October! You know what that means: time to break out the old Poe collection! Am I right? Not that I really have time, mind you, to be wasting away a blissful gray afternoon with Madeline and Roderick Usher, but sometimes a girl just needs a break from Plath & Co. And undergraduate papers, no matter how bright the current batch of students, do not usually make for atmospheric reading material (never mind that one time a student decided to turn in, in place of her compare/contrast paper on Dickinson and Dorothy Parker, a rather graphic letter suggesting I throw myself into the river; naturally, my critique included, "Razors pain you, rivers are damp"). I do love this time of year!
Any suggestions for cozy establishments in which to waste away said afternoon? One does grow weak and weary pondering over many a quaint and curious volume in one's office day after dreary day. |
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