May 26, 2007

What of it...

hat is this thing that many a men apply themselves so ardently? It is a thing most sought yet it defies one nonetheless. All the relentless carry-on forces thee to the resignation of brief engagement. What is the object?

Cannot a damsel indeed have an eye caught by any manner of gentleman so long he be tolerable given passage of season, is it not?! In the same air I do declare that it is most certain that all manner of gentlemen can indeed play the court of any damsel who hath not bring a scowl on thy gentleman's countenance at the herald. If it is so, pray, what of this carry on? It does tire one so.

Given the occasion and present season I seek like a barn laborer who has lost a pin in the haystack. Is it to be proven so vein for ones breath is wasted and seeks to settle down but finds no resting place. What damnation of mankind is this, thickle on the ground!

I shall not have it like that lest it be my will. One almost is of the conviction that such a plutonic may be hidden from thy roving orbs and favor, from under the heavens and dare not the breath of the earth! It is what the heart holds favor for, and it shall not rest till it is so and truly so for such a plutonic is its object as of the season. It shall not bow to be enslaved by the master who seeks to use his frame for services to his ends at a season when it is not to ones liking. Indeed many a giddy are enslaved by this master who only sees the service as a service not what it is part of, there, there, lies the tragedy and hopelessness of man.

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