Oh dear!
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((HUGS)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Musee des Beaux Arts W.H. Auden
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
1940
"Words so excite me that a pornographic story, for example, excites me sexually more than a living person can do."
Auden, W. H. (1993). The Prolific and the Devourer. New York: Ecco, p. 10. ISBN 0-88001-345-1
Excepting of course my choices in both women and prose :wink:
We are but broken-English-speaking rodents in the factory of life.
Now tell me that's not a gem of the highest color, clarity, cut, and carat.
Or at least a diamond in the rough.
Or at least a spiffy cubic zirconia.
Send us, bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send us, bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit.
Hoopsa, boyaboy, hoopsa! Hoopsa, hoyaboy, hoopsa! Hoopsa, boyaboy, hoopsa.
- Joyce
Should I respond in kind I wonder
Would it be
That I find
What I write
Is given mind
If ya want to dance with wolves, bring a pork chop.
I came up with that one some years ago. Sadly, it did not become a catch phrase.
I feel so..... overwhelmed with your fellas' wit.
Me, I have no sayings or catch phrases.
Well, reyn, nobody beat my door down to praise my catch phrase. I'm gonna have to eat worms, I guess.
Yeah, but the early worm catches the ..... something-or-other, right?
Hang on, that's bird. Never mind.
I'm just a barefoot boy in an old geezer's body.
Well, we discussed fixing a nice Easter dinner, but, we failed to buy anything for it. Pot luck?
haha, Oops! Good intentions should count for something though, huh?
Tell us how it works out!
Found a decent cut of meat in the freezer. Fried it up, boiled red potatoes, opened a can of peas and carrots. It was mighty good.
See, there you go! All's well that end's well!!
Isn't it amazing what one can do with just some simple ingredients? :wink: Glad it was a nice occasion for the family.
Time has no meaning for those with a breakfast-eye.
I am thinking about making scrambled eggs, with fresh pineapple and a glass of orange-Jews.
Eye: a way of regarding something; a point of view
Jews: one of which I am ethnically; although I'm white not orange
We sometimes have breakfast for lunch or dinner. It's good any old time.
