hum

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful.
You might as well live.

Dorothy Parker

I’ve just met
myself in a
dream: I look
like Nellee Hooper
I’m funny and
play the piano

Our first attention is justly due to Man, for whose sake all other things appear to have been produced by Nature; though, on the other hand, with so great and so severe penalties for the enjoyment of her bounteous gifts, that it is far from easy to determine, whether she has proved to him a kind parent, or a merciless step-mother.

Pliny The Elder
The Natural History

Do you know the Momordica? It is a humble Cucurbitacea, common enough along the Mediterranean coast. Its prickly fruit, which resembles a small cucumber, is endowed with inexplicable vitality and energy. You have but to touch it, at the moment of its maturity, and it suddenly quits its peduncle by means of a convulsive contraction and shoots through the hole produced by the wrench, mingled with numerous seeds, a mucilaginous stream of such wonderful intensity that it carries the seed to four or five yards’ distance from the natal plant. The action is as extraordinary, in proportion, as though we were to succeed in emptying ourselves with a single spasmodic movement and in precipitating all our organs, our viscera and our blood to a distance of half a mile from our skin and skeleton.

Et s’il revenait un jour
Que faut-il lui dire ?
Dites- lui qu’on l’attendit
Jusqu’à en mourir…

Et s’il m’interroge encore
Sans me reconnaître ?
Parlez-lui comme une sœur,
Il souffre peut-être…

Et s’il demande où vous êtes
Que faut-il répondre ?
Donnez-lui mon anneau d’or
Sans rien lui répondre…

Et s’il veut savoir pourquoi
La salle est déserte ?
Montrez-lui la lampe éteinte
Et la porte ouverte…

Et s’il m’interroge alors
Sur la dernière heure ?
Dites-lui que j’ai souri
De peur qu’il ne pleure…

Beauty without grace is the hook without the bait

Reaching land, Pinocchio jumped down first, and then he helped his father. Then he turned to the tunny, and said in a trembling voice, ‘My dearest friend, you have saved my father’s life! I cannot find words to thank you. May I give you a kiss, as a token of my eternal gratitude?’
The tunny put his nose out of the water, and Pinocchio, kneeling on the ground, pressed a loving kiss on its mouth.
At this sign of real, unaffected love, the tunny, who was not used to such things, was so moved that, ashamed to be seen crying like a baby, he dived under the water, and disappeared.
Meanwhile, the sun had risen.

… honey

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