The scentless laurel a broad leaf displays,
Few and by fewer gather’d are the bays;
Yet these Apollo wore upon his brow.
The boughs are bare, the stem is twisted now.
The scentless laurel a broad leaf displays,
Few and by fewer gather’d are the bays;
Yet these Apollo wore upon his brow.
The boughs are bare, the stem is twisted now.
“Some fathers hate to read but love to take the family on trips. Some children hate trips but love to read. Funny how often these find themselves passengers in the same automobile. I glimpsed the stupendous clearcut shoulders of the Rockies from between paragraphs of Madame Bovary. Cloud shadows roved languidly across her huge rock throat, traced her fir flanks. Since those days I do not look at hair on female flesh without thinking, Deciduous?”
Anne Carson | “Short Talk on Reading”