From Charlotte Bronte's novel The Professor. (Hat tip - Mancunian Dave B. on the WSM Forum)
"Why, at dawn to-morrow, must I repair to Crimsworth's mill? All that night did I ask myself these questions, and all that night fiercely demanded of my soul an answer. I got no sleep; my head burned, my feet froze; at last the factory bells rang, and I sprang from my bed with other slaves."
"I cannot please though I toil like a slave." "Work, work!" reiterated the inward voice. "I may work, it will do no good," I growled; but nevertheless I drew out a packet of letters and commenced my task-- task thankless and bitter as that of the Israelite crawling over the sun-baked fields of Egypt in search of straw and stubble wherewith to accomplish his tale of bricks"
2 comments:
Just looked at my auld hoose's book shelf tonight and saw The Professor and thought: "Mmm, think I'll read that!" But it will have to be after the Billy Childish one I'm reading at the mo.
Btw, nice to see you back to blogging activity!
hey, posting the occasional pic and/or link doesn't really constitute blogging activity, but it's the best you'll get out of me at the moment. ;-)
Glad to read that things are going well with you.
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