Open Post
Edgar has been laboring over his Latin lately; when he takes his customary walks, he recites conjugations and declensions like a prayer, and he has devoted countless hours to the Ovid translation that was his Christmas present.
All in all, he finds himself growing rather sick of Latin, and so he is sitting now in the main room with a cloth over his lap, to catch the shavings as he whittles an owl from a chunk of maple wood. At times (more times than he would care to admit), his relentless intellect finds far more solace in simply doing than in thinking and learning.
All in all, he finds himself growing rather sick of Latin, and so he is sitting now in the main room with a cloth over his lap, to catch the shavings as he whittles an owl from a chunk of maple wood. At times (more times than he would care to admit), his relentless intellect finds far more solace in simply doing than in thinking and learning.