Tuesday, January 04, 2005


"Sleep knits up the ravelled sleeve of care". A friend quoted this line to me recently, from Macbeth she said. She wants to sleep for ever and if it had not been for her dogs she might have arranged it. The image of a life unravelling is apt. So often cares are cumulative; stitch by stitch the fabric gives way.

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Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Romania.
Dorothy Parker, Not So Deep as a Well (1937)