.

And by a prudent flight and cunning save A life which valour could not, from the grave. A better buckler I can soon regain, But who can get another life again? Archilochus

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Who am I, 24601?

I have no name, no title,
No, not that name was given me at the font,
But ’tis usurp’d: alack the heavy day,
That I have worn so many winters out,
And know not now what name to call myself!
O that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops!
-Shakespeare, "Richard II"

2 comments:

Always On Watch said...

"Who am I?"

One of the eternal questions -- long before the 60s, when I used to hear that question so often.

-FJ the Dangerous and Extreme MAGA Jew said...

We are at times so many people. I often wonder why I feel compelled to desire to be the same one, all the time.

Jean Valjean... 24601... Cosette's father... Mayor of the town...

*shakes head*