The kids are clamoring each night for the story of Ulysses, to which I add more and more details until it's becoming quite Homeric, in length at least, if not in beauty. I throw in a lot of sailing toward the setting sun across the wine-dark sea and "the rosy fingers of Dawn". The prow of Ulysses' ship is tracked closely (wacky kids) and Heaven forbid I forget the mighty whirlpool dragging strong ships and men to their deaths on Ocean's floor. I think I got that from the Aeneid, but anyway.
Now if I could only remember where I put Fitzgerald's translation of the Odyssey last month. Drat!
Posted by billw at January 30, 2003 09:27 AMMetaphysics is the finding of bad reasons for what we believe upon instinct, but to find these reasons is no less an instinct.
Posted by: penis enlargement at October 18, 2004 10:05 PM