like the mighty tardigrades, supermodels deserve their own phylum. i can't say that they threaten my self-concept; i'll never be rich or dotty enough to worry about mimicry. they do have provocative relationships with other creatures, though.
Why does a snake horrify us, or even a newt? Why was Phillotson like a newt? What is it, in our life or in our feeling, to which a newt corresponds? Is it that life has the two sides, of growth and of decay, symbolized most acutely in our bodies by the semen and the excreta? Is it that the newt, the reptile, belong to the putrescent activity of life; the bird, the fish to the growth activity? Is it that the newt and the reptile are suggested to us through those sensations connected with excretion? And was Phillotson more or less connected with the decay activity of life? Was it his function to reorganize the life-excreta of the ages? At any rate, one can honour him, for he was true to himself.jude is a lively novel; i'm glad it named my three-legged cat.
(from Phoenix: The Posthumous Papers of D.H. Lawrence, 1936)
-- Click Here To Take The Test --
It was night. There was nature.
The moribund worm yawns.
(putting on his pants)
O natural philosophy, o logic, o mathematics, o art,
it's not my fault I believed in the force of the last emotion.
O how everything goes dark.
The world definitively chokes.
I make it nauseous,
it makes me nauseous.
Dignity sinks into clouds.
I never believed in a quantity of stars.
I believed in one star.
It turned out I was a solitary rider
and we didn't become like tuna.
(putting on her blouse)
Look idiot look
at the extremities of my breasts.
They vanish, they retreat, they float off,
touch them you fool,
they are on the edge of a long sleep.
I turn into a cottonwood,
(putting on his jacket)
I said that the female is almost human,
she is a tree.
What's there to do,
I'll smoke, I'll sit around, I'll think.
It seems stranger and stranger
that time still moves,
that it breathes.
Can time be stronger than death,
maybe we're devils.
Farewell dear Natasha cottonwood.
The sun rises violent as light.
I understand nothing.
He gets smaller and smaller and disappears.
Nature indulges in solitary pleasure.
(aleksander vvedensky, 1931 [eugene ostashevsky trans.])
I will put Chaos into fourteen lines
And keep him there; and let him thence escape
If he be lucky; let him twist and ape
Flood, fire, and demon - his adroit designs
Will strain to nothing in the strict confines
Of this sweet Order, where, in pious rape,
I hold his essence and amorphous shape,
Till he with Order mingles and combines.
Past are the hours, the years, of our duress.
His arrogance, our awful servitude:
I have him. He is nothing more or less
Than something simple not yet understood;
I shall not even force him to confess;
Or answer. I will only make him good.
(edna st. vincent millay, c.1946)
So when Santa's evil son Damien topples jolly Saint Nick and threatens to wipe out Hanukkah altogether, who you gonna call? As Damien demonically pushes the Christmas spirit on Hassidic children (using none other than highly addictive It's a Wonderful Life videos), the Hammer has no choice but to mount a serious offensive. Enlisting Esther from the "Jewish Justice League" and Mohammed, chief of the "Kwanzaa Liberation Front," he ventures to the Holy Land, the North Pole, and even to his mother's Sabbath dinner table, all in hot pursuit of the red-suited rogue.
We just had to stop because we were afraid we were going to die.my portfolio's a casserole of nonsense and sonnets. this information isn't good for me.
"Of young companions, bravest of the brave
" " " , in the brook to lave
" " " , none of them a slave,
" " " , hating to behave,
" " " through the forest grave (nave)
" " " hunting for a cave,
" " " in a manner suave,
" " " boredom off to stave,
" " " still too young to shave,
" " " hell about to pave,
" " " did not stamp or rave,
" " " , (one of them called 'Dave')"
(e. st. v. m., c. 1940)