Thursday, March 8, 1821
Read Greek (no lesson). Call on Emilia Viviani. E. Williams calls. Shelley reads The Case is Altered of Ben Jonson aloud in the evening. A mizzling day and rainy night…. March winds and rains are begun, the last puff of winter’s breath,—the eldest tears of a coming spring; she ever comes in weeping and goes out smiling.
About the Author:
Mary Wollstonecraft (27 April 1759 – 10 September 1797) was an English writer.
In the winter of 1960, Mary McCarthy—the writer whom Norman Mailer once described as “our saint, our umpire, our lit arbiter, our broadsword”…
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A taste for rural scenes, in the present state of society, appears to be very often an artificial sentiment, rather inspired by poetry and romances, than a real perception of the beauties of nature. But, as it is reckoned a proof of refined taste to praise the calm pleasures which the country affords, the theme is never exhausted.
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The tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right...
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The thing about new blooms is that they tend to bleed— / Those petals birthed / hugging close / that come warmer weather are tricked into jumping away...
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I spent a good part of my childhood at home staring outside my bedroom window, following the trail of planes approaching the nearby Paris airport in the sky from my banlieue. I envied the passengers...
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