This sentence was written

(Credit: Matt H. Wade)

(Credit: Matt H. Wade)

On his deathbed the sage said to his student:

Write me an epitaph, when I’m gone. Do not flatter me in it. You can write of my virtues, but only the ones you have seen with your own eyes or felt on your own body. Beauty is truth and truth beauty, so write something true.

Let it be something that people can think on. Something philosophical in nature would be fitting. Make it at least as philosophical as you know me to be. I want people to remember how deep my thoughts were when they read it.

However, do not be too scholarly when you write it, do not make it seem aloof to the common man. That would just make me unpopular among them. People fear or sometimes hate what they do not understand. So write it so that anyone can understand it. And do not use too many long words either. In fact, keep it short all in all. Brevity is the soul of wit, so the shorter the better. As long as it says something.

The sage has now been interred and according to his wishes, his student wrote an epitaph which has been engraved over the entrance of the mausoleum. It says:

This sentence was written.

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Rhymes

Kangaroos-jump

Do you still grue

For tomorrow or is it your yesterdays you rue

Or find intimidating? Don’t go through

All the dark times again. It’s a flu

Of the mind, ruminating. If you blew

Your nose more often and looked away from your shoe

You would see that the sky is blue

Right here, right now, coo coo ca choo

It’s true

And you already knew,

But I would still spew

These trivialities at you

Even if you withdrew

All the way to Timbuktu

Even on the loo

I will find you

To remind you

That when you were two

You wanted to be a kangaroo

When you grew

up. And you might say: ‘Screw

That. It was a stupid dream.’ But I dream too

The stupid dream that one day you

Will learn to be here,

In the now

With me.

Can I?

(Credit: 7-themes.com/6968639-sunset-beach-scenery.html)

(Credit: 7-themes.com/6968639-sunset-beach-scenery.html)

‘Can I?’ he asked as the setting sun had painted the sand orange and the grass beyond turned blue in comparison.

‘Can you what?’ she raised her head from her knees.

‘You know,’ he glanced at her trousers.

‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ she said.

‘You know, will you let me,’ he looked up and down the empty beach. ‘Oh, come on, you know.’ He edged closer. Their arms touched.

‘I’m telling you I don’t,’ she said searching his face.

‘Don’t make me say it outright,’ he said.

‘Well if you don’t, you can watch the rest of the sunset alone,’ she pushed herself up.

‘Wait,’ he took her wrist, ‘can I,’ he swallowed a lump in his throat. ‘Will you let me try on your trousers?’

Summer, I know you’re there behind the rain

Summer holidays, here I come!

I had my last exam Friday, so now there is just one year left before I officially become a Master of Mathemagics!

And I even wrote a bit yesterday (I just forgot to post it), so there’s a post coming just after this one, and then I hope I can get back on track with the updates during the summer.

I hope you all have a fantastic summer!

Missing Post?

What do you mean?

What post?

I am Jon Snow; I know nothing.

All right not completely Jon Snow; summer is coming and that means exams are coming too. So my head is filling up with algebraic topology and commutative algebra, but it’s driving other subjects away.

Maybe I’ll find a post that’s not soaked in mathematics tomorrow.

Wrath (3 of 6)

(simonprocter.blogspot.dk/2012/09/simon-procter-portrait-of-astrid-berges.html)

(simonprocter.blogspot.dk/2012/09/simon-procter-portrait-of-astrid-berges.html)

The slap echoed down the hallway. The maid stepped back, hand to her cheek, her eyes were wide.

‘How dare you?’ said Aurelia. Her cheeks were pale in stark contrast to the rouge on her cheekbones.

‘But ladyship,’ said the maid.

‘How dare you!’ Aurelia raised a bejewelled hand again. The piles of hair gathered on her head resembled a storm cloud, complete with pearl droplets.

‘But it really happened,’ said the maid.

‘Slander!’ Aurelia shook and a pearl fell. Her blood felt aflame, ‘I’ll have you flayed!’

‘I’m telling the truth!’ The maid fell to her knees and covered her face with her arms, ‘Lady Laura kissed Henry on the cheek. I saw it!’

‘My daughter would never.’

‘I’m sorry m’ ladyship,’ said the maid, ‘she did. Gary saw it too.’

Chest heaving, Aurelia lowered her hand.

‘Was anyone else there?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said the maid in a small voice, ‘just Lady Laura, Henry, Gary and me. And I wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t been told to clean the drapes.’

Aurelia stared at the trembling figure before her, jaw clenched.

‘If I find out that you’ve lied to me,’ she said.

‘I swear,’ whimpered the maid.

Aurelia gathered her skirts and swept down the hallway towards the servant’s quarters.

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