Having my way with Ulysses

Toothless terrors

One said when the heavens are quakers, a second said when Bohemeand lips, a third said when he, no, when hold hard a jiffy, when he is a gnawstick and detarmined to, the next one said when the angel of death kicks the bucket of life, still another said when the wine's at witsends, and still another when lovely wooman stoops to conk him, one of the littliest said me, me, Sem, when pappa papared the harbour, one of the wittiest said, when he yeat ye abblokooken and he zmear hezelf zo zhooken10:56 am

Deasy sends me today to what is left of the print news with his letter on foot and mouth disease.  He has no chance but I did not say no.  He sees I was not born to be a teacher.  I said I am a learner, rather.  But what is it to be born to something?  I was born, yes, but I will die.  I was born to that.  And I don’t mind.  I don’t.  I look forward to it.  Dying, no.  That can only be horrible.  But death.  Yes.  I will take death.  Think of the languid peace of it.  The freedom from the worlds and worlds of choices I will never have to make or not make.  Do or not do.  To be and not to be, that’s what you get every time.  No.  I’ll take death as my fate.  I was born to it.

One Response to Toothless terrors

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.