The recently acquired collection of Shakespeare prints reminds me of the heavy old albums of 78 rpm records we have tucked away in one of our old cabinets, and which were around and still played on occasion during my childhood years. It also reminds me of many other things that used to be solid, substantial, and made to last, such as furniture and pots and pans. But ours is not to lament. We’ve used up the most obvious resources and there’s no going back. Now the focus is on renewable resources, the most readily available of which is still almost entirely untapped, and which can be found in our hearts and between our ears.
At eight o’clock, I was three hours later than usual with my little cup of coffee this morning. This proves that I, too, can be wild and unpredictable. I, too, Brute?
Read the forty-ninth chapter of Middlemarch.
“A task too strong for wizard spells / This squire had brought about; / ’T is easy dropping stones in wells, / But who shall get them out?”
October 8, 2023.
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[ 1891 ]
Categories: If It Had A Name
Tags: Childhood, Coffee, George Eliot, Journals, Library Notes, Memory, Middlemarch, Old Books, Old Records, Reading, Shakespeare, Stones, Wells
William Michaelian 