intentional
I could have sworn that I had picked up a copy of the old Oxford World Classics hardcover of the complete plays of Christopher Marlowe, one with a nice dust jacket, to replace the an old Everyman’s edition in limp snot-green cloth with creaky hinges. I remember feeling pleased that I had found it in a local bookstore, rather than buying it online. The image of the book was so clear in my mind that I could picture two possible places where I would have set it, for a moment, as a holding spot so I would remember to read it sooner rather than later. Except that I could not find it anywhere at all, and the book I imagined had a teal dust jacket with a Quixotic cavalier, but in all the booksellers’ images, the jacket is clear emerald green. A sad example of mistaking the intention for the deed. 1
- What a peculiar phrase that is. [↩]