Sunday, February 24, 2013

What now, Mr Satan ?

'What now, Mr Satan ?  What for are ye roaring that gate ?  Are you fawn inna little hell, instead o' the big muckin ane ?  Deil be in your reistit trams !  What for have ye abscondit youself into my leddy's wab for ?

'Friend, I beg your pardon,' said I;  I wanted to be at the light, and have somehow involved myself in the intricacies of your web, from which I cannot get clear without doing you a great injury. Pray do, lend your experienced hand to extricate me.'

From:  James Hogg, The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner (1824)


  1. "Private Memoirs" is a strange work. Lovely choice of music to go with it.

    We saw "Red", the play about Rothko, last night. It's not very good, but at least one is brought back to the paintings.

    Snow here. Wish I could stay indoors for, I don't know, a year.

    1. So sorry about the snow. The cold weather is really getting to us, but also firming up our future plans to avoid cold weather. Private Memoirs IS a strange work. Our weekend included a visit yesterday (our first) to the Racquet Club of Philadelphia to watch friends compete in a court tennis tournament. That was fun. Then cooked a nice dinner, avoided the Oscars, prepared today's post (which is, I guess, a form of private memoir), and sort of slept. I'd like to sleep more (to be sleeping right now, in fact), but it's a busy day and I need to get a start on things before two morning appointments. I think I'd like to see Red. Whenever we go to a play, which is rarely, we tell ourselves that we should do this more often. Curtis