The multitudinous seas incarnadine

[muninnhuginn]

Pile of clean face cloths, the newel and hand-rail of the banister.... Sighs.

Comments

[the-magician.livejournal.com]

Erm ... my brain hurts!

Does this mean that you *now* have a pile of clean face cloths etc. or that the recent Texas Chainstore Massacre has besmirched your path to Bedfordshire?

The Macbeth quote would seem to indicate the latter, but is there a deeper relevance, do you feel your intent with the tagalong has cast you in the role of Lady Macbeth and the poor unwitting fool has now a spot on his hand and a chisel (http://home.earthlink.net/~jkmtsm/knifelaw.html)


Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd Murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives:
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.

A bell rings

I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

Warning, sexist comments!

[muninnhuginn]

Entirely due to the necessity of putting the top flannel, clean, back into the wash due to, shall we say, drippage followed by my placing hand on newel post and finding the, let's call it, smearage.

Every quote pertaining to blood that I can dredge up from the swamps of memory comes from Macbeth.

And I've cone to two important conlusions. Viz:

1. Men don't have to deal with blood often enough.

2. Were I ever to select a means of dispatch, I'd not choose
2.1 any method involving blood letting
2.2 to ask a man to try and hide the evidence!