Agreeable eye.

an eudæmonistarchives

28.03.02 – Thursday

Woke this morning to the chiding of the sun. One always knows that it shall be a bad—or, at the very least, trying—day when distant instances of extreme combustion seem to have gained the power of speech.

Moving on, however, to other things. Why is it that, as I read some few of Aemilia Lanyer’s (thought by some to be Shakespeare’s ‘Dark Lady’ — my copy had been annotated by a student with feminist leanings, who had not yet learnt to avoid the ballpoint pen when marking up books) poems in the bath this morning, I had the sudden desire to read Horace? Me nec femina nec puer iam nec spes animi credula mutui nec certare iuvat mero nec vincire novis tempora floribus


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