SUNDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1923

THE MICHIGAN DAILY

LT,5d.

"It is of course the duty of all good order to belong to him, and the day
economists and kind persons to prove comes when you don't know one an-
and proclaim continually to the poor other. Each takes his turn."
as well as to the rich that respect for -(Georges de Porto-Riche)
the dead is not really shown by laying from "Francoise' Luck.
great stone on them to tell us where
they 'are laid; but by remembering "It is a popular error to imagine
where they are laid without a stone that Man's misfortunes are the result
to help us." (John Ruskin.) of his impiety and iniquity. On the
contrary, his wickedness is the con-
"How funny, how disgusting life is: sequence of his misfortunes."-Giaco-
You meet some one, do no end of fool- mo Leopardi, from "History of the Hu-
ish and wicked and means things in man Race."


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Edited By Scogan

We- mean grease spots al
cltheshave been ckaned in
ENERGINE
W e o see your pleasant slmile,
Wi you slip on a rui we've pressed,
ad sa zter down the street in style,.
Wlohers'Wrho Bre^aseatly dressed.
_~ r
Wise you send cis your suit to clean,
Or if you have a garment dyed,
You'll find us even more than keen,
To -have you pleased and satisfied.
Your address-number, name and street,
. Sent in to us by telephone,
Will-solve the task of dressign neat,
And give your looks a different tone.
So try us once--you'll like us ots,
For when we've cleaned and pressed yo
You'll find the pesky greasy spots
As scarce as flies as picture shows.
WE CALL FOR AND DEL
2 508 Cope y
e)iao'&nerginea
SWISSILIZED GARMENTS
CLEAN LONGER
llsIfhIIlIiliIIUHIUlfuININ hRiiilUlflIHItlhIti

ter your

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LOVE-A TJ.IOLOGY
"Other people are, as a rule, so immaterial to us that, when we have
intrusted to any one of them thepower to cause so much suffering or un-
happiness to ourselves, that person seems at once to belong to a different
uiwe, Is. saurounded wiltl- poetry, makes of our lives a vast expanse,
quick with sensation, on which that persen and ourselves are ever more
or less in contact.
-From "Swan's Way," by Marcel Proust.
Making his advances :-.::(a -tortoise)3
He does not look at her nor sniff at her
fNo, not even sniff at her, his nose is blank.
Born to walk alone;
Forerunnr,
Ndw-suddenly distracted into this mazy sidetrack
This awkward, harrowin pursuit,
This grim necessity from within
Does she know
Asle moues etern Byslowly away? .
Or Is he driven aginst her with a bang, like a bird flying
in the dark against a window;
All knowledgeless".
The awful concussion,
And the still iure awful need to pursue, to follow, folloW
continue,
Driven after aeons of pristine, fore-god-like snglenss and
oneness,
At the end of somemysterous, red-hot iron
Driven from himself into her tracks
Yored tocrushagainst-Ser.
From .",Tortoises," by D.H. Lawrence.
"The 'Love of woman' has alway about It something tragic and
-catastrophic. It means the plunging of one's hands into frozen snow or
burning fire. It-means the crossing of perilous glades in tropic jungles. It
mneanseithe sowing of the whirlwind' on the edge of the avalanche and the
hunting of the mirage in the desert. The ecstacy brought by it is too
lindig to serve as an illumination for our days; and for all the tremulous
sweetness of its approach it leaves behind it the poison of disillusion and
the scars of rancour and remorse."
From "Suspended Judgments," by John Cowper Powys.
PUPPY "LOVE'S OLD SWEET SONG"
"Indeed, thestory is very very old, and oldIt was when Methuselewas
teething. There is no olderand more common story anywhere. As the se-
quel, it would be heroic to tell you this boy's life was ruined. But I do not
think it was. Instead, he had learned all of a sudden that which at twenty-
one is heady knowledge. That was the hour which taught him sorrow and
rage, too, for a redemption. Oh, it was armour that hour brought him,
and humour to use it, because no woman now could hurt him very seriously.
No, never anymore!" -From "Jurgen," by James Branch Caell.
EPITHELIOMA
"Just a moment. . . If death, my dear sir, were like one of those
strange loathsome insects you sometimes find walking up your coat sleeve
. . here you are going along the sidewalk . . . a mancomes up to
you all of a sudden-stops you, and then, cautiously, holding out two fingers
of his 'hand, says to you-"Beg pardon,-may I?" . . . and with those
two fingers he skips the insect off! . .Ah!...That would'he fine!
. . . But death isn't like one of those loathsome insects. Many, people
walk by you, but no one notices anything. No. . . Now, I, my dear sir-
look! . . . See this spot under my moustache-Pretty violet color, isn't it?
. Do you know what they call that? . . . A pretty name!--like a
verse from a poem-E-pi-the-li-o-ma! . . . Epitheioma. . . Say it
yourself and you'll notice how nice it sounds!-Epithelioma! . . But
death-you understand-death! . . . Death has passed my way and put
this flower in my mouth-'A souvenir, my dear sir! Keep it-no charge!
I'll be back this way a month hence!' . . . (He laughs. A pause)
Do something for me tomorrow morning, when you get home-will you?
. Well-the first tuft of grass you notice on the roadside-just count
the blades for me! The number of those blades of grass will be the number
of the days I have to live! . . . (A pause) . . . Choose a good sized
clump, if you please, eh? . (he laughs). . . Well, good-night!
good-night!
-From "The Man with the Flower in His Mouth," by Lugi Pirandello.

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