|Subject:||[Emonkey-announce] trivia marketer|
|Date:||Fri, 8 Sep 2006 11:22:12 -0600|
This then is the world that Percival sees no longer.
You have lost a leader whom you would have followed; andone of you has lost happiness and children.
I shall never again walk bang into thepillar-box. All London is uneasy withflashing lights.
We have been hauled over the shingle, down to the sea.
The figure that was robed in beauty is now clothed in ruin.
I shall go mixed with them beyond mybody and shall see India. Pain is suspended as a girlsilently slides open a drawer. They did not wrinkle their noses andscratch their foreheads with your precise gesture.
I do not wish to be a man who sits for fifty yearson the same spot thinking of his navel. People are so soon gone; let us catch them. An axe has split a tree to the core; the core is warm; soundquivers within the bark.
These are the true cycles,these are the true events.
It is the hour when Miss Johnson bringsme my letters in a wire tray.
That is, if I discover a new vein in myself Ishall submit it to you privately. I wish to be harnessed toa cart, a vegetable-cart that rattles over the cobbles.
Now, through my own infirmity Irecover what he was to me: my opposite. The sand was pearl white, smoothed and shining. A million handsstitch, raise hods with bricks.
As a drop falls from a glassheavy with some sediment, time falls.
Outside lines twist and intersect, but round us,wrapping us about. Meeting and parting, we assemble different forms, makedifferent patterns. I am half in love with the typewriter and the telephone. I sit here like a convalescent, like a verysimple man who knows only words of one syllable.
I am no longer amazed by names written over shop-windows.
I neverwish to prolong these states of detachment; I dislike them; I alsodespise them.
So Neville, at school, in the dimchapel, raged at the sight of the doctors crucifix.
They did not wrinkle their noses andscratch their foreheads with your precise gesture.
Mr Prentice at four; Mr Eyres sharpat four-thirty.
We have eaten beef and pudding enough to live for aweek without tasting food. Ideas break a thousand times for once that they globethemselves entire. Jinny, pirouetting across the room, will perch on the arm of hischair and ask, Did he love me?
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