The man who marks or leaves with pages bent
The volume that some trusting friend has lent,
Or keeps it over long, or scruples not
To let its due returning be forgot;
The man who guards his books with miser's care,
And does not joy to lend them, and to share;
The man whose shelves are dust begrimed and few,
Who reads when he has nothing else to do;
The man who raves of classic writers, but
Is found to keep them with their leaves uncut;
The man who looks on literature as news,
And gets his culture from the book reviews;
Who loves not fair, clean type, and margins wide --
Or loves these better than the thought inside;
Who buys his books to decorate the shelf,
Or gives a book he has not read himself;
Who reads from priggish motives, or for looks,
Or any reason save the love of books.
Great Lord, who judgest sins of all degrees,
Is there no little private hell for these?
Saturday, 27 October 2007
(Found here, en route to scrambling to a submission on Managerial Ethics, which has previously also been proved productive..)
Wednesday, 24 October 2007
- Who let the dogs out?
- Who shot the sherriff?
- Who framed Roger Rabbit?
- Do the handicapped go to Hell?
- Who flung dung?
- Noodles or rice?
- How much is that doggie in the window?
- Where's Waldo?
- Who are 'they'? What are 'they' saying?
- To be or not to be, that is the great ethical question...
- How you doin'?
- Where's the party tonight?
- Where is the ID Cod?
- Are those real?
- Are we there yet?