unearths some literary gems.
[This book, published in 1921, contains an epigraph from the future.]
***
“And every week you opened your hoard
Of truthful and tasteful tales—
How you sat on the knees of the Laureate Lord,
How you danced with the Prince of Wales—
And we knew that the Sunday Times had scored
In Literature and Sales.”
To Margot in Heaven.
By Clarence G. Hennessy (circa 1985).
***
[As it turned out, Margot (Asquith) died in 1945, at the age of 81--so 1985 was a pretty safe choice! (And I like the hedging implied by "circa.") But the really good news is that Clarence G. Hennessy appears to exist only for the purpose of attributing the epigraph. That is, there's no evidence of him elsewhere in this book, nor in Google.]
***
Parody should be brief, just as autobiography should be long—ars brevis, vita longa.
***
I was christened Margarine, of course, but in my own circle I have always been known as Marge.
***
