The epigraph to 'Silas Marner' * is this:

...* A child, more than all other gifts

That earth can offer to declining man,

Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts.* by Wordsworth.

Eliot blames 'mere' "zoological emulation" as the societal culprit, judging that nature seems to be unfair. It's a harsh world, and yea, let's never underestimate how scurulous adults can become--monsters. Never, never, never, become a "defeatist."

Or do people decline and just mature into a bitter rot harsh "journalist" or pro-war scribe for jingle-coins?

George (female) Eliot even respectfully refused some of Shakespeare's thoughts and meanings. Think independently, and think with each other in all true honesty. Consensus.

And if some 'crapper' keeps saying with a lowly-base tone-drone...eulogy..."The world's a bad imperfect burnt Cookie and just get use to what crumbles." No.

Aren't we here to share gifts, and beg at the coin-changer machine if we are a smart Iraqi veteran (hint) with a sign of card-board stick-protest...*^*

"Extra Change For Beer, any one, please?" huh. Yes, sir rhea, me. Yes.

And if we share a lollipop and take turns licking what is sweet with a poor homeless human, a vagrant, a poor human, a loitering hillbilly goat, wandering all day vis streets lookin' for a non-lip-Dtick cig in the bye-way concret curbs...in all the district's everywhere in the worldly Americana...Oh, can't we take turns licking a candy lollipop or ice-cream cone with each other?

It will taste like a strawberry/blueberry ice-cream banana split?

And twice as good and 'nice?' Yes. Oh-Ah! Let's all go over to shooter's basement and play pocket-pol {o}, and Ah-Ho, bonnie, ya, yea, can eat a banana's in a pair of wrinkled pajama's? Or we can cook a zucchini and all get into a bikini?

Ah-oho WHO is most cruel, rude, and stupid?

We all win and spysprog screams for ice-cream with strawberry's at every dang meal. It's NOT fair he gets to bring such unappreciated sweet treat here (other's too, thanks) that are certainly delicious.

Oh, we can demand sweets at b-fast, at lunch, and at suppertime. S/He (WHOEVER) begs outside of the Louvre Museum's all over town's. Begs for bright colored shots of candy sprinkles. Equel' portions and shares!

Ah! Oh! Can we have our snack in the rain today? Pretty please with sugar on top? yea. Take turns licking the ice cream cone. Do not throw the double dip-ball-cone at the liberal MSM. Ask them to expose lies and bring the creeps into the hot-seat.

Lick fast before 'it' melts.

While 'goofs' are out in the dewdrops, "someone has to sweat here."

Glenn is walking in the rain? He sitting on a wet rock? He sitting at the moss base of a Pine Tree? We waiting patiently here too long, some days. We get all wet from dew.

Yes, we quite patient too. Dripping wet. yep. Waiting. It's very foggy outside. And it's boring listening to birds chirp and chatter bird-gossip. That all birds do? No. A chick-peep on the shoulder p**ps. That happen yesterday to me at my granddaughter's menagerie. We do enjoy each other.

...Some people are grinding teeth on mothballs, and yuck, why? Weeds grow up around them but, the rain brought lengthy barley grass too. Loveliness is the color of mint green. Chirping birds whisper secrets. The mountains, where I live and stroll along, use to be under the roaring sea. Ask the geologist, not the philosopher's about that. okay. Waves rolled over here daily. Oh, Ya Chi hoko!

Yes, and I'd hate to put metal-tines on a motor boat, so I'll act mad and plow up Wall-mart parking lots, and then plow the church grave yards, and cry out in the night for peace if it's Gonna Get Boring?

Never boring, that's for sure. We can always tip-toe via the TULIP patch. I'm gonna git and find a perfect morel to coat with chocolate sauce and put it on a pop-sickle stick. I'll sprinkle on a mushroom, while waiting patiently, siting here in stinky wet snickers that squawk. okay.

Why keep milling around, smelling a loaf of bread, I'll just I'm at the Salon Factory Dollar Store just sniffing into the misty air? Refrain.