The Green Hills of Morok

And now for a quickie. All is water.   How to make water in 5 easy steps. Donkeys and turtles smell alike: they both arise, emerge, and ignore the shining equilateral triangles. One thing you must remember, and one thing only / Which you must never forget nor fail to recall /  To keep [it] in your liver forever and a day / For [it was] spoken by the goddess so that all may have ears / Remember this: ... [fragment ends] 275c:  So you say, then, Moronides, that a fish without a woodvine would still be a just fish, and if it were just, then a beautiful fish? -- Yes, Cockates: you have hit the nail on the head. -- And that fish, being beautiful, must of necessity also be petrified? -- Yes, I suppose so. -- Now consider this, Moronides: does the woodchopper know wood? -- Certainly, Cockates. -- And does the shepherd know his sheep? -- Almost every day, Cockates. -- And the horseman horses? -- Of course. -- And the plowman plows? -- Yes. -- So what do we conclude? -- You tell

From now on there is to be no more fisticuffing about these parts, lads of honor: from this day henceforward, shall we discuss e'er again the plenary beatitudes of Erewhon? or the cuspidors of St. Theresa?  From this date into the foreseeable destiny of Man, can it ever again be said that we are mere stockholders, mere place-markers on the shores of His Ocean?  Or is it His Oven?  I was just remarking to Mrs. Dinwiddie down the lane the other day that if you think about the latest price increases youll see that theyre not all theyre cracked up to be O not at all because you see His Majesty himself was the One who ordered the bacon that day at Leicester Square surrounded by his admiring acolytes as they say you know that means sycophants or something like that those words they all mean the same to me and all I know is I need some lemon waters to control it cant you see it wont do otherwise because the man at the corner the other weekend not last weekend but the one when they had t

At some moment Tamar has decided that she has been awake for a while.  She looks down and across, surveying her attire: a damp velvet dress lingers on her.  It reeks of a portal opened by crowns of smoke.  From the street comes a vociferous vociferating voice of vivacious young clods.  "Niña," they call in a language spoken in Venezuela, but not in Brazil ... Mr. Clemens, high priest of Geography at the Cathedral of Callousness (AKA St. Elizabeth's School for Troubled Girls), Clemens the Inclement, would chant out the names of South American sovereign states, whining for one, then bellowing for the next, in a great cacophonic concerto; the girls backed him up with a symphony of tight-lipped groans and rumblings -- Paraguay, Uruguay, Paraguay, Uruguay, Paragraph, Urugraph, Ur-Graph, Urmensch, Ur....  And at night, each tossing in her starched dormitory bed, they'd try to forget the concerto's chants; but each effort would only recall its dreary melody, fixing it