IN THIS AGE OF HARD TRYINGNONCHALANCE IS GOOD, AND
really, it is not thebusiness of the gods to bake clay pots. They did notdo it in this instance. A fewrevolved upon the axes of their worthas if excessive popularity might be a pot;they did not venture theprofession of humility. The polished wedgethat might have split the firmamentwas dumb. At last it threw itself awayand falling down, conferred on some poor fool, a privilege.Taller by the length ofa conversation of five hundred years than allthe others, there was one, whose talesof what could never have been actual—were better than the haggish, uncompanionable drawlof certitude; his by-play was more terrible in its effectivenessthan the fiercest frontal attack.The staff, the bag, the feigned inconsequenceof manner, best bespeak that weapon, self protectiveness.
really, it is not thebusiness of the gods to bake clay pots. They did notdo it in this instance. A fewrevolved upon the axes of their worthas if excessive popularity might be a pot;they did not venture theprofession of humility. The polished wedgethat might have split the firmamentwas dumb. At last it threw itself awayand falling down, conferred on some poor fool, a privilege.Taller by the length ofa conversation of five hundred years than allthe others, there was one, whose talesof what could never have been actual—were better than the haggish, uncompanionable drawlof certitude; his by-play was more terrible in its effectivenessthan the fiercest frontal attack.The staff, the bag, the feigned inconsequenceof manner, best bespeak that weapon, self protectiveness.
really, it is not thebusiness of the gods to bake clay pots. They did notdo it in this instance. A fewrevolved upon the axes of their worthas if excessive popularity might be a pot;
they did not venture theprofession of humility. The polished wedgethat might have split the firmamentwas dumb. At last it threw itself awayand falling down, conferred on some poor fool, a privilege.
Taller by the length ofa conversation of five hundred years than allthe others, there was one, whose talesof what could never have been actual—were better than the haggish, uncompanionable drawl
of certitude; his by-play was more terrible in its effectivenessthan the fiercest frontal attack.The staff, the bag, the feigned inconsequenceof manner, best bespeak that weapon, self protectiveness.