I crashed through a field of snow. Tremors. Fever. Sweating heat from ice in my bones. But the tea in my hand did not spill. So concentrated was I that I didn't notice the pile of centuries carelessly tossed at my feet. I tripped. And David Steel, composing his Elements of Punctuation, whispered to me in 1786. [on colons and semicolons] they are both chiefly useful in marking the degree of connexion between one sentence and another, and, in this, the connexion may be so variously felt, by different people, that two will seldom agree in the use of these points in the same passage [concluding] A nice acquaintance with punctuation is not, in my opinion, attainable by rules, as a knowledge of syntax may be acquired, but it must be procured by a kind of internal conviction, that the rules of grammar are never to be violated. My hand shook but the tea did not leave the cup (though my bottom lip came up charry redblack). Mr Steel's declaration of conviction stirs me, but I baulk at his fear of violation. Consideringwestartedsomewherelikethisitsnowonderwearestillbangingonaboutthesameold. shiT [ On the way back I heard M.Twain yell: ...the printer's proof-reader was improving my punctuation for me, & I telegraphed orders to have him shot without giving him time to pray. ] Waddyafink? Fever = 41.2ºC | Tea drunk | Write sober Way:Frip:
