other than almost finishing woolf's orlando
i'm somewhere in an ocean of lit and english masterpieces (some 800 of em) of nubile thirteen year-olds. but this dolorous tedium would often be anodyned by some amazing, very amazing, letters. like when asked to "write about an incident which happened and that had made you a very different person", one commences:
It was a time when no one cared more than what he or she was supposed to, when people believed that indiscriminate compassion only weakened the benefactors by disallowing them the mental and physical enrichment that life's challenges inherently procured. in other words, it was the age when people strongly supported the logic of the "survival of the fittest", and kindness was considered to be unnecessary.
I lived through that age, when technology was not as advanced as it is today. Rummaging through my memory, I can remember that abysmal time, when treachery and larceny loomed in the streets...
___
be still my collapsing pulse, for we may well have a few dickens hidden in our islandic midst.
It was a time when no one cared more than what he or she was supposed to, when people believed that indiscriminate compassion only weakened the benefactors by disallowing them the mental and physical enrichment that life's challenges inherently procured. in other words, it was the age when people strongly supported the logic of the "survival of the fittest", and kindness was considered to be unnecessary.
I lived through that age, when technology was not as advanced as it is today. Rummaging through my memory, I can remember that abysmal time, when treachery and larceny loomed in the streets...
___
be still my collapsing pulse, for we may well have a few dickens hidden in our islandic midst.