My Small Boat

The Planter’s Daughter
When night stirred at sea
And the fire brought a crowd in,
They say that her beauty
Was music in mouth
And few in the candlelight
Thought her too proud,
For the house of the planter
Is known by the trees.
Men that had seen her
Drank deep and were silent,
The women were speaking
Wherever she went -
As a bell that is rung
Or [...]

‘Are the gods not just?’
‘Oh no, child. What would become of us if they were?’

The majority of husbands remind me of an orangutang trying to play the violin.

It turns out we can do this not only practically but also theoretically.

Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?

When I say “Yes”, it does not mean that I agree; it means only that you should go on.