Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Lawrence Stern

“Time wastes too fast: every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen: the days and hours of it, more precious…than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a windy day, never to return more-- every thing presses on--whilst thou art twisting that lock,--see! it grows grey; and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make.—“

Trsitram Shandy
Volume IX
Chapter VIII

1 comment:

Andrew Gabriel Rose said...

Are you goin' foppish on me?