A journal of musings, ramblings, paintings, songs, half-hearted notes, half-baked ideas, recipes, dreams, pieces of twine, road signs, cocktail napkins and small disasters.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Herman Melville
"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment