Monday, April 05, 2004 :::
 

"No," continued Mega, "I love my web page as I do myself, for it is my only friend, poor internet weblog! It sings to me when I am sad, and cheers me; and I never write for an audience, or on purpose to be paid for it, not I,…… would I,…… poor writer?...."

(He looks down at the terminal where it stares blankly back.)

"No, that I never have done, and never will do, though I starve; for when people click away, I do not think my thoughts are to blame, but they themselves are to blame; for such people must be hitting the pipe right?

Thus their brains have grown rusted,

So that no more music can be breathed into their souls.

"Ah! there's the mistake. Though my page is as full of thoughtful melody, as a hive is of bees; yet no thoughts can make music in unmusical breasts; no more than my beloved trade winds can, when they breathe upon a harp without chords."

::: posted by Mega at 11:10 AM

Comments: Post a Comment

ARCHIVES :::

Mega means big or large stir because I like to mix it up