Today's Stichomancy for Pierce Brosnan

My self I mean, most subject unto thrall, For I, the more I seek to shun the worst, The more by proof I find myself accurst: Ere whiles assaulted with an ugly bear, Fair Amadine in company all alone, Forthwith by flight I thought to save my self, Leaving my Amadine unto her shifts: For death it was for to resist the bear, And death no less of Amadine's harms to hear. Accursed I in lingering life thus long! In living thus, each minute of an hour

Till summers heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs To flourish in eternal vales: they why should Thel complain. Why should the mistress of the vales of Har, utter a sigh.

She ceasd & smild in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.

Thel answerd, O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley. Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o'er tired The breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells the milky garments He crops thy flowers while thou sittest smiling in his face, Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints. Thy wine doth purify the golden honey; thy perfume. Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs

Poems of William Blake

Nature gets us out of youth into manhood, as sailors are hurried on board of vessels, - in a state of intoxication. We are hustled into maturity reeling with our passions and imaginations, and we have drifted far away from port before we awake out of our illusions. But to carry us out of maturity into old age, without our knowing where we are going, she drugs us with strong opiates, and so we stagger along with wide open eyes that see nothing until snow enough has fallen on our heads to rouse our comatose brains out of their stupid trances.

There is one mark of age that strikes me more than any of the physical ones; - I mean the formation of HABITS. An old man who

The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table

moral - don't go in for that sort of thing - but when I do there's one thing sure, that I mean it."

So Archie marched off to bed, and Frank sat alone by the table for another hour or so, smiling to himself richly. There was nothing vindictive in his nature; but, if revenge came in his way, it might as well be good, and the thought of Archie's pillow reflections that night was indescribably sweet to him. He felt a pleasant sense of power. He looked down on Archie as on a very little boy whose strings he pulled - as on a horse whom he had backed and bridled by sheer power of intelligence, and whom he might ride to glory or the grave at pleasure. Which was it to be? He lingered long, relishing the details of schemes