In an astounding and if-precedented-I-don't-remember Renaissance, I have discovered two new joys, not only nonrelated but in close propinquity (the same day no less) to each other. The pulchritudinous Pandora, a dulcet and dark delight of a deity whose dusty old box seems to have been cleared out and filled anew with symphonic splendor, provides me with such sumptuous stations as Bach, Vivaldi, and *drool* Philip Glass. The second discovery is that of a desire or ability to read classical literature. I now await good examples with which to feed this not-quite-nascent hunger. This is a robbery- GIVE ME ALL YOUR BOOKS!!! (spoken to the modernistic beat of classical compositions)
Let us begin a New Age, a redivivus of Renaissance through Pandora's music box and history's imagination, imagery and metaphor. Come Prometheus and let burn the luciferous fires to illuminate the literary luminaries of all eras.
And on that antiquated anachronism of a note I bid adieu to my solely sorroral audience, and a very fond farewell.