I awake at an unearthly hour on Sunday morning, after which I turn over and go to sleep again. This second, or beauty sleep, I find to be almost invaluable. I do it also with much more earnestness and expression than that in the earlier part of the night. All the other people in the house gradually wake up as I begin to get in my more fancy strokes.(more…)
I wake up late again, uncharacteristically sad and inept.
I have a cheese omelet for breakfast and watch the news. They’re still arguing over who bombed that hospital full of people in Gaza. The Palestinians blame the Israelis. The Israelis blame the Palestinians. I can’t tell them apart so I hate them both.(more…)
This single stick, which you now behold ingloriously lying in that neglected corner, I once knew in a nourishing state in a forest: it was full of sap, full of leaves, and full of boughs: but now, in vain does the busy art of man pretend to vie with nature, by tying that withered bundle of twigs to its sapless trunk.(more…)