Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Happy Third Day of the Writing, 2018

The Ondt, that true and perfect host, a spiter aspinne, was  

making the greatest spass a body could with his queens lace-

swinging for he was spizzing all over him like thingsumanything

in formicolation, boundlessly blissfilled in an allallahbath of

houris. He was ameising himself hugely at crabround and mary-

pose, chasing Floh out of charity and tickling Luse, I hope too, 

and tackling Bienie, faith, as well, and jucking Vespatilla jukely

by the chimiche. Never did Dorsan from Dunshanagan dance it 

with more devilry! The veripatetic imago of the impossible

Gracehoper on his odderkop in the myre, after his thrice ephe- 

meral journeeys, sans mantis ne shooshooe, featherweighed 

animule, actually and presumptuably sinctifying chronic's de-

spair, was sufficiently and probably coocoo much for his chorous

of gravitates. Let him be Artalone the Weeps with his parisites

peeling off him I'll be Highfee the Crackasider. Flunkey Footle

furloughed foul, writing off his phoney, but Conte Carme makes

the melody that mints the money. Ad majorem l.s.d.! Divi gloriam.

A darkener of the threshold. Haru? Orimis, capsizer of his ant-

boat, sekketh rede from Evil-it-is, lord of loaves in Amongded.

Be it! So be it! Thou-who-thou-art, the fleet-as-spindhrift,

impfang thee of mine wideheight. Haru!

--Finnegans Wake

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