Even when I don’t know how to say it, I am still going to do my best to write it down, just to get it out. Even when I don’t know what the best way to do something is, I am still going to move forward and try to do it, just because of the simple fact that it needs to be done. The alternatives to moving forward (regression, stagnation, etc.) are by far less desirable than making progress, even if the execution is somewhat less than perfect. Even if the execution is terrible.
Children would eschew asparagus were it not for the similarities inherent in the fact that to chew and eschew combine elegantly to surmise triumphant, bell wagging harpies nesting among the cliffs behind the refrigerator marbles. Only deliberation may become all too frighteningly real, and his trachea exploded. Then, softly and silently, without motive or green memories of winter, four things happened at once or not at all, depending on what day it was. Small, confident man enters room with entourage of renaissance minstrels, implying ultimation and respite.
There are no toys among the frequently strewn appointments.
Or have you not seen the impetuousness of a cool summer’s eve, and how it combines fetters with roses? Rejoice, metropolis! Cry out for joy and sing galoshes of candleshoe hill, or some other such appeasement.
Never again has there been more of a synthesized estrogen thimble. Forsooth!
