Thy road, the right, toward Pluto's dwelling goes, And leads us to Elysium. But the left Speeds sinful souls to doom, and is their path To Tartarus th' accurst.
“Can you take a photo of my husband’s grave for me please?”
“Yes, absolutely. What’s his name?”
Choked silence. She was his wife for 55 years and we buried him last week. Her soft, broken voice could barely say his name through the tears. Strange, eternal moment over the phone.
Do you remember the day you first became conscious? I was three. Had just woken up, was walking downstairs to breakfast, and realized that even though I knew who I was and where I was, I had no memory of the day before or any day before that one. An odd, unsettling feeling!
Did you know that Crispin Glover beautifully and faithfully restored a 17th-century chateau in the Czech Republic? Who would have thought - Crispin Glover, hero of Western art and architecture!
She asked three or four times to make sure I take the photo when it’s sunny and bright out. Oh and please include the tree, and mail a nice, large print.
“I have a credit card, how much do I–“
“No charge, ma’am.”
Sent this poem to my parents in honor of their anniversary and apparently it’s one of the few poems my mom has memorized in her lifetime. I never knew!
My one and only take on men and women and then I will never speak again on this subject:
I find men to be far more sweet, romantic, and sentimental than women.
This is one of my favorite movie scenes of all time. Unexpected visitors and everyone frantically attempts to rearrange and make themselves presentable. It’s so charming.
A woman comes to my cemetery, she looks 12 and is over 500 years old. She asks me for records from the year of her birth 1505. My records only go back to the 1860s. I don’t know how to help her.