September 2008
9 posts
August 2008
9 posts
“If only you were grown up,” mused Cincinnatus, “if your soul had a slight touch of my patina, you would, as in poetic antiquity, feed a potion to the turnkey, on a night that is murky. Emmie!” he exclaimed, “I implore you—and I shall not desist—tell me, when shall I die?”
Invitation to a Beheading
Vladimir Nabokov
Thanks! Ryan for lending me this...
