When you’re creating your own shit, man, even the sky ain’t the limit.
When you’re creating your own shit, man, even the sky ain’t the limit.
“Wheresoe’er I turn my view,
All is strange, yet nothing new;
Endless labour all along,
Endless labour to be wrong;
Phrase that Time has flung away,
Uncouth words in disarray:
Trickt in antique ruff and bonnet,
Ode and elegy and sonnet.”
Samuel Johnson | “Lines on Thomas Warton’s Poems”