Melted to incandescence by The aroma of fresh ink, Yielding stiffness Of fine paper, Elegant lines of the font Of eternal renewal: We are bound by language As by other tyrants, Although the torture Remains far sweeter, even In memory.
The aroma of fresh ink,
Yielding stiffness
Of fine paper,
Elegant lines of the font
Of eternal renewal:
We are bound by language
As by other tyrants,
Although the torture
Remains far sweeter, even
In memory.
- David W. Mitchell
to David / to Moongate .