Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Some Senseful Mirth

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From Sense and Sensibility:

“At last the affair was decided.  The ivory, the gold, and the pearls, all received their appointment, and the gentleman having named the last day on which his existence could be continued without the possession of the toothpick-case, drew on his gloves with leisurely care, and bestowing another glance on the Miss Dashwoods, but such a one as seemed rather to demand than express admiration, walked off with an happy air of real conceit and affected indifference.”

Made me laugh.  The bit about ‘existence’, that is.

And it just so turns out, in Volume II Chapter XIV, that toothpick-man is Robert Ferrars.  Bravo, Austen, bravo – you slipped that right under my radar.  (I do appreciate an author that can hide things in plain sight.)

It was discovered tonight that our main phone line is broken; one picks up the receiver and hears a weird and constant half-static noise.  Telstra was called (from the second line), and have promised to fix it; indeed, they have given their guarantee that it will be fixed by the 11th, of all days!  Too bad, for instance, if one might be expecting an important phone call.  Well, as long as the Fates are having a gay old time, who am I to trample on their happy thread?


I note that, having read quite a bit of the novel today, I feel much the same satisfaction that I get from my lines on ze play.  Or at least I think I do.  Perhaps the feelings, both happening on the same day, overlap each other.  Perhaps that glow of a speech well-writ transfers itself onto the nearest novel that is imbibed afterwards.

I feel myself about to ramble to excess.  Goodnight.


Written by epistemysics

December 3, 2013 at 1:48 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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