I have a theory that I think best shortly after I wake up in the morning. Since no very remarkable idea has ever come to me at any time, to prove or disprove my theory, I can happily believe that this is so and my usual plodding seems almost inspired to me in these hours between waking and the clutter and confusion of lunchtime.
***
"An armed camp," I murmured to myself, in Bold Roman.
[More of his typographical whimsy--among other things--can be found in the attachments.]
***
[Someone Should Write a Book dept.]
I decided that it was time someone wrote a handbook for adulterers.
[Cf. the film Guide for the Married Man]
***
"First, Lee's death... then the will, that dreadful will." She shut her eyes a moment as though trying to forget a million dollars... since this is not easily done, she opened them again.
***
I told her that the next few days would have to be lived through, the sort of reassurance which irritates me but seems to do other people good, especially those who do not listen to what you say.
***
"'For who would fardels bear....'" boomed Miss Pruitt, recognizing my allusion to him whom they call "the bard" in political circles. She fardeled on for a moment or two; then, her soliloquy done, "It's possible you're right," she said.
***
After an hour of this, everyone shifted positions, as often happens with a group in civilized society: a spontaneous rearrangement of the elements to distribute the boredom more democratically.
***
