Joined: Mar. 2006
With aplogies to the bard:-
Alas, poor erv! I knew him, D.T.: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
Abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let
her paint an inch thick, to this favor she must
come; make her laugh at that.
Tell me D.T. When you admire a man with a small moustache who with an effete wave of the arm can call an entire theatre to their feet in an adolescent miasma of modernist crapulence, where does that leave morality?....oh wait you hang out with creationists..Say no more.
The conservative has but little to fear from the man whose reason is the servant of his passions, but let him beware of him in whom reason has become the greatest and most terrible of the passions.These are the wreckers of outworn empires and civilisations, doubters, disintegrators, deicides.Haldane