Willy-nilly

Into this Universe, and Why not knowing  Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing;  And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,  I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing. Stanza XXXII of “Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam” by Edward Fitzgerald (1809–1883)

Randoms

  • Geoffrey Chaucer Hath a Blog. He is writing a "newe set of tales. Thinketh of this: the image of the viage of an erthely pilgrimage ys but a maner of shewinge the wey of thilke parfit glorious pilgrimage into the celestial spheeres of the skye, in which we shal weare awesome shinye clothes and have swooshie laser swordes and eek have snappye dialog and sweepinge orchestrale bakkeground musique as we flye arounde the sunnes and moones and thinges-that-are-nat-moones. And thus Ich am writinge nat of pilgrimes on erthe but of pilgrimes -- wayteth for yt -- IN THE STERRES!"

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