Bite my laughters, drink my tears. Pore into me, volumes, spell me stark and spill me swooning

[Sunday 2nd December 2018]


Written from the vantage point of Monday, I know that any optimism I felt yesterday was misplaced. To be fair, my optimistic nature often gets the better of me - show me a green shoot and I'll be expecting to see a forest the next day. I think the phrase is setting yourself up to fail. "I know nothing of the sort."

[Quote is from Book I Chapter 6 of 'Finnegans Wake' by James Joyce]

Comments

Popular Posts

Lockdown Diary - Tuesday 17th November 2020

Love, Poetry and Revolution - Thursday 15th May 2025

Lockdown Diary - Wednesday 2nd September 2020

The January Long List

Love, Poetry and Revolution - Thursday 31st July 2025