By Emma Lazarus
Yet life is not a vision nor a prayer,
But stubborn work; she may not shun her task.
After the first compassion, none will spare
Her portion and her work achieved, to ask.
She pleads for respite,—she will come ere long
When, resting by the roadside, she is strong.
Nay, for the hurrying throng of passers-by
Will crush her with their onward-rolling stream.
Much must be done before the brief light die;
She may not loiter, rapt in the vain dream.
With unused trembling hands, and faltering feet,
She staggers forth, her lot assigned to meet.
But when she fills her days with duties done,
Strange vigor comes, she is restored to health.
New aims, new interests rise with each new sun,
And life still holds for her unbounded wealth.
All that seemed hard and toilsome now proves small,
And naught may daunt her,—she hath strength for all.
It was a chilly Friday with cats on vents and squirrels snooping around hoping for handouts of birdseed. Paul worked from home so that we could pick Daniel up from College Park before rush hour. I posted a review of Deep Space Nine's "'Til Death Do Us Part", cropped some pictures so I could frame them, and cleaned out a bunch of clothes to give away (is it worth putting a Lilly Pulitzer blouse I got ridiculously cheap on eBay)?
After we picked up son, we had dinner with my parents -- Greek food, yum -- and came home for two episodes of Shakespeare Uncovered, Morgan Freeman on The Taming of the Shrew (talk about a problem play) and David Harewood on Othello (as one of the commentators said, the play where you most want to jump out of your seat and make the main character stop what he's doing). Here are my cats enjoying the winter doing what cats do best: