Sunday, 7 February 2010
Thusly and thricely slaked he uptrod the spiral staircase and fancied for himself only a briny frieze.
— Give out, Jesuit, or forever in peace may you lie.
Sardonic, sardonic was the smile then adopted. It can twist forever (if the vicars will allow, if the oxen pull the plow).
— Dearly beloved, he quipped through shut mouth, did not Rapunzel cry from on high?
She skipped with a slow whistle to the first stone slab. As at Young Colin's, on the eve of Fata Morgana, all rose quietly. How could it be remiss?
Thanatopsis. Requiescat In Pace.