When intercourse among bluestockings and their henpecked cicisbeos wends thesaurical, it is no otiose devoir thereon to mentate, whether the technique and lore of synonymous expression yet be in the incunabular juncture of scriptogeny or if it has acceded to an engrossed partnership in maturescence. Though I bear him no animadversion, it is only licensed me to opine that Adam's essai grades one to the former supposition, though this be a station whose sempiternality and perduration one must theorize with dubiety. For Adam's diction, though recherche, is not, excepting a few vocables, inapropos; his ken of the denotation of his linguistic production fetters him. The optimal—by which I intend, the pessimal—such text would be in possession of such an abstrusion as to be an intrusion on the peruser, even the in spe comprehender, of its inholding, delivered of one unhampered by cognizance of the import of his literal contrivances.
Numismatic guilds exhort, for the dilation of pecuniary stocks, unperspicuous agonistic motion, wherefore here too I impel and imprecate you all to conceive and publicize recondite opera for all to eulogize. My sanguinity that in this wise the coevally inchoate may inspissate and solidify is illimitable.
The mouse ran. The floor was hard beneath its feet. The light glared. The mouse squinted into the glare. It grew tired. Its lung felt pain. Then its legs felt pain. The pain grew worse, in its lungs and legs. The mouse could feel nothing but the pain. Its mouth foamed. Its coat was slick with sweat. It could not get enough air. It ran on. The heart of the mouse exploaded. It died. Rain fell on the hard floor.
Posted by: Michael | February 24, 2007 at 10:16 PM
Thursday apr 10: Today Algernon is wearing a tiny leather jacket.
Posted by: ben wolfson | February 24, 2007 at 11:09 PM