P. J. Parrish
The Little Death

Let us alone. What pleasure can we have

To war with evil? Is there any peace

In ever climbing up the climbing wave?

All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave

In silence-ripen, fall, and cease:

Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.

— Tennyson, The Lotus Eaters


Загрузка...