ENDEAVORED
AVOIDANCE,
LOST
MISAPPROPRIATION
There is the chisel by which I chip through this
world : one marvelous wedge-point with a harshly
hammered stump. I go happily banging on.
-
Trousers rolled? I shall instead put this
newspaper down - for there is nothing there
to see. I note that everything has, already,
happened twice and I have left the village
anyway. Vague vapors, the fast-mouth-talking
words of gossipy little men.
-
Any ghost of Waverly has already here
appeared. The woods of Birnam have
moved, and what care I for nothing?
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