Where do those Portuguese lexicographers find the time for anything else?
Archive for August, 2002
A puppy’s not just for Christmas — the leftovers are fine on Boxing Day.
The first finished version is printing out. 69023 words. I could die now. It’s certainly preferable to reading what I’ve done.
The sucking backwash of his reputation was still gurgling down the beach as I grew up. He wasn’t quite dead then, though so drunk that he might as well have been; but he was the poet who had been inescapably important during the adolescence of people thirty or forty years older, so he was quite inaccessible to me. The short, famous and wonderful poems seemed like folk songs. They had always been there; they could never once have been original.
does this to a brain. Or maybe the pink is what happens to the brain when you watch seven hours of television a day for a fortnight.
“In ced-3 mutants, the undead sister of the rectal epithelial cell usurps its sister’s position and performs its functions.”
From the Cold Spring Harbor monograph C. Elegans II, 1222 fun-filled pages of cutting-edge helminthology.
It happened with nuclear power: why not Feng Shui: a mighty force for peace perverted to warlike ends. If this craze spreads, it will provide us with an inexhaustible fountain of excuses. “Why did I sign that deal? His lawyer must have been wearing lime green underwear.”