![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) novelists. |
[07 Jan 2008|07:07pm] |
among the windings of the violins and the ariettes of cracked cornets, inside my brain a dull tom-tom begins absurdly hammering a prelude of it's own capricious monotone. that is at least one definite "false note." -- let us take the air in a tobacco trance, admire the monuments, discuss the late events, correct our watches by public clocks. then sit for half an hour and drink our bocks.
'Portrait of a Lady' - T.S Eliot
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