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To: CyberAngel who wrote (3301)	3/18/1999 12:01:00 AM
From: Volsi Mimir	Respond to of 13018

Tabula tantum! The width of a table! Rispote to Charles the Bard jibe, "What is the difference between an Irishman and a drunkard?" Johanes Scotus Eriugena 810-877 I had warning, last night, in a dream without reason or rhyme; But the words may not be true ones: Obedience is ice to the wine. Rhoda Coghill 1903

To: CyberAngel who wrote (3301)	3/18/1999 12:15:00 AM
From: Volsi Mimir	Respond to of 13018

Death of an Irishwoman Michael Harnett Ignorant, in a sense she ate monotonous food and thought the world was flat, and pagan, in the sense she knew the things that moved all night were neither dogs or cats but pùcas* and dark-faced men she nevertheless had fierce pride. But sentenced in the end to eat thin diminishing porridge in a stone-cold kitchen she clenched her brittle hands around a world she could nor understand. I loved her from the day she died. She was a summer dance at the crossroads. She was a cardgame where a nose was broken. She was a song that nobody sings. She was a house ranshacked by soldiers. She was a language seldom spoken. She was a child's purse, full of useless things. *-hobglobin-ghost