The three parts of a lever system — the fulcrum, load and effort, and that old mnemonic, 'Father Lays Eggs' — these are the things that stay with you, the submachines of your mind. They are there with the inclined plane of your plain inclinations, the wheel of transmigration and transmogrification, the pulley which would otherwise be
le coq sportif. This is a bright world, a world of shining metals and deep enamels, an in-turning world of windswept forest silences, a re-tuning world of sudden harps and last trumpets while the interminable groaning of drums lies drowned in the gulfs.
Labels: Odd Thoughts
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