My old grey Nikes, worn past wearing, with the pink rubber springs in the heels, had to be thrown away. Not merely discarded–the soles were so slick that anyone wearing them would have slipped.
A database search for Sonnet 18 returns hits for Milton and Sidney when I request only Shakespeare’s poem for a student.
The problem of the truth of one’s own self, as studied by Susan Howatch in her excellent Starbridge novels: guided by monks, characters resolve their own mysteries once, but continue to enact the same problems.
Escape seems quite attractive now. Santayana (quoted via Clifford Geertz by Amy Hungerford): “another world to live in…is what we mean by having a religion.” True religion is not escapism, though.
Patches of blue sky show through on a day forecast to be 90% rainy.
Anyone know how to rotate images on this platform?
Snapdragons and pansies, just reaching their peak, were ripped out of the beds in front of the library. (Later they were replaced by smaller caladiums and coleus, but still…)