"Beastly weather," remarked Cornelius in The Sunday Magazine, 1882.

An illustration from a 1902 edition of Vaught's Practical Character Reader.  The caption reads: "The framework of human character.  Study it."

We stumbled upon this bookplate in an old* magazine volume from the Harvard College Library.  Any writer who has been under a deadline might relate to the symbolism.
*1855

An illustration from an 1897 issue of Harper's magazine.

"This might surprise you ... but laboratory experiments have established that all of us daydream for up to 120 minutes per day."
—Moira Geoghegan, The Living and the Dead

An illustration from an 1891 issue of The Strand magazine.  The caption reads: "Wake up, wake up!"

Our friend Ken shares a nesting box of a dream:

In the dream, you told me that you really liked a word I had coined. I responded that I wasn't surprised, because you'd actually coined the word yourself, in a dream I had (which was a dream within the dream I was in).

Here's a list of the levels:

1) Ken writing this e-mail to Craig describing
2) A dream I had, where you were impressed with the word I'd coined, where I said that
3) I'd had a dream where you had coined the word, and told it to me.

Make sense?

Unfortunately, I don't remember what the word was...

photo by Cobalt 123

"[A]propos of nothing, 'Don't worry. Everything will come out all right. Things will work out for the best.'"
—Project Rebirth (2011)

An illustration from a 1902 issue of Harper's magazine.  The caption reads: "They waved their wild, blistered arms around his neck."

It's little-known that a North American grizzly bear was a Founding Father of the United States as well as a leading author, printer, political theorist, politician, postmaster, scientist, musician, inventor, satirist, civic activist, statesman, and diplomat.  Yes — Benjamin Franklin was a mammal of the family Ursidae.  [Our proof is found in The Adventures of James Capen Adams.]

"The answer is simply 'That's the way the game is played.'”

—The Reality of Linguistic Rules (1994)

An illustration from a 1911 issue of Harper's magazine.

Pronounced not unlike the quacking of a duck, gwork is a wonderful word handed down from the language of the Cewri (the "giants" of Welsh folklore).  In a nutshell, it means "struggling to the last."  It implies "to enjoy fighting, and to be fond too of what you're fighting for, or of what you're fighting against. . . . [I]t means enjoying life to the end or at least fighting to enjoy life to the end."  It seems to declare in one breath "that you were glad to have lived and that you'd struggle to the last to feel you were glad, in fact fight to the last to feel it; to feel, I mean, that weak as you might be, that defeated as you might be, that humiliated as you might be, that feeble and ridiculous as you might be, and as much like a wounded insect as you might be, you still refused to curse life. . . . It means using the soul in us to fight and enjoy the universe at the same time.  And to achieve this trick we've got to feel the soul in us as if it were in some sort of way independent of the body, although not necessarily . . . capable of surviving the death of the body.  We've got to feel it as if it were an unconquerable generator of energy within us, as if it were a self-quickening pulse of power and force, like a bodiless living creature, a creature of an airy rather than of a fluid or fiery essence, but a creature we can feel . . . in our two hands, our two legs, our sex organs and all our senses" (John Cowper Powys, Porius, pp. 569-70).

An illustration from a 1914 issue of Harper's magazine.