Mother, be natural for a minute.
I don't know what you mean. I'm trying to realise a very bitter truth ..
There's nothing so very bitter about it.
My poor child!
Very well, then! I love Sandy, and he loves me!
That would be the only
possible excuse for your
behaviour.
Why shouldn't we love
each other?
each other?
Sandy was in love with me
this afternoon.
this afternoon.
One cannot possibly love
this world, the same way, every hour. A gladdening
thing, is to've been giv-
en such inconstancy as an
ironclad excuse.
ironclad excuse.
Noel Coward
Hay Fever
1925
Three Plays by
Noel Coward
Edward Albee, editor
Dell Publishing, 1965©
iii Eugen Timofaev
BEAUTIFUL
ReplyDeleteOne could say the same for your posting of 9 October last :)
DeleteThank you for bringing your odyssey so far afield. Here, one cannot intend to be beautiful, one has to rely on statistical regression. But you may try us again some day. Cheers on your journey.