Possumblog

Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.


Thursday, May 02, 2002

Hemingway's letters to be cataloged and published

They were good letters, written on paper. Written with pens and with pencils. Yellow pencils, the color of cowardice; but with a black, hard spine. Written by hands which had written other things. Books. Receipts. Bar tabs. The words went across the pages, in lines which wrapped around again to the next line, and the next. Never ending, until they got to the end of the paper.


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