Pet Parker <
[email protected]>, the enfeebled-grandpa and vile chuff
adder who likes immoral noodle twisting with herrings, and whose partner
is a body-worker with a bald-headed clit slit, wrote in
Norton misses nothing here
You poor, misinformed, monkey.
..............10 bananas.
Ram them up your arse.
--
For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down
in words with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived
it. There is, however, a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy which
are not thoughts, and to which as yet I have found it absolutely
impossible to adapt to language. These fancies arise in the soul, alas
how rarely. Only at epochs of most intense tranquillity, when the
bodily and mental health are in perfection. And at those weird points
of time, where the confines of the waking world blend with the world of
dreams. And so I captured this fancy, where all that we see, or seem,
is but a dream within a dream.