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The tree blossomed too early; the late frosts killed it; in the annoyance of the moment one may reproach the gardener for allowing it to blossom so prematurely, but one cannot absolve February of all blame. It is no good, then, for February to try to be spring; no hope for her to please us by prolonging winter. What is left to her? She cannot even give us the pleasure of the hairshirt.
I hope it frets you, Weener, for the sake of your sniveling but immortal soul, I sincerely hope it rasps you like a misplaced hairshirt. You will get some miserable lickspittle to take my place, some mangy bookkeeping pimp with a permanentwaved wife and three snottynosed brats, but the spirit and guts of the Intelligencer depart with W R Le ffaçasé."
'Is there to be the revelation of a hairshirt ultimately? a Journal of Confessions? You succeeded in everything you aimed at, and broke your heart over one chance miss? 'My heart is not of the stuff to break, he said, and laughed off her fortuitous thrust straight into it. 'Another cup, yes. I came...
He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. He was, I understand, at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree reformatory. Another report states that he was a very posthumous child. I appeal for clemency in the name of the most sacred word our vocal organs have ever been called upon to speak. He is about to have a baby. Women faint.
Why do I speculate on such things? I seem to do violence to myself and to insult her by writing such suspicions. If I was a Flagellant now, I would don hairshirt and up flail. "For this sort cometh not out but by prayer and fasting." April 7th. Mr. Pounce has arrived full of the importance of his mission.
'Is there to be the revelation of a hairshirt ultimately? a Journal of Confessions? You succeeded in everything you aimed at, and broke your heart over one chance miss? 'My heart is not of the stuff to break, he said, and laughed off her fortuitous thrust straight into it. 'Another cup, yes. I came . . .
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