Monday, April 6, 2009


“‘The tint is, perhaps, slightly pale. But the body is unquestionable. And as for the bouquet–’ Ah, that magic Bouquet! How vividly that magic word recalled the scene! The little beggar boy turning his somersault in the road—the sweet little crippled maiden in my arm—the mysterious evanescent nursemaid—all rushed tumultuously into my mind, like the creatures of a dream: and through this mental haze there still boomed on, like the tolling of a bell, the solemn voice of the great connoisseur of wine! Even his utterances had taken on themselves a strange and dream-like form.” —Lewis Carroll, Sylvie and Bruno Concluded (1889)

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