Thought for a Thursday

For some reason this quote - or bits of it - end up in my head... It can apply to so many situations.

The following winter was spent on schemes of the most salutary kind. To induce a people, hitherto scattered, uncivilized and therefore prone to fight, to grow pleasurably inured to peace and ease, Agricola gave private encouragement and official assistance to the building of temples, public squares and private mansions. He praised the keen and scolded the slack, and competition to gain honour from him was as effective as compulsion. Furthermore, he trained the sons of the chiefs in the liberal arts and expressed a preference for British natural ability over the trained skill of the Gauls. The result was that in place of distaste for the Latin language came a passion to command it. In the same way, our national dress came into favour and the toga was everywhere to be seen. And so the Britons were gradually led on to the amenities that make vice agreeable—arcades, baths and sumptuous banquets. They spoke of such novelties as `civilization', when really they were only a feature of enslavement.
Good old Tacitus...

Quote of the day... well, last couple of months

Thanks to Georgia at work!

"This must be Thursday," said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer, "I never could get the hang of Thursdays" from Hitchhiker's Guide.

It's been like that - well, minus the beer - for every Thursday since Easter and the end of daylight savings...

Each Thursday just feels wrong - like it has to be something other than Thursday. Not, necessarily, Friday. But, just not Thursday. Like, the week has grown an extra day or something. Or the days are longer. Just something.

Fridays are still fine. Saturdays are fine. But Thursdays.

Poor Thursdays.

Thought for Thursday

"Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life." ~ Mark Twain.

Quote for the day

Happiness, thought Cadfael, watching him, consists in small things, not in great. It is the small things we remember, when time and mortality close in, and by small landmarks we may make our way at last humbly into another world.
Taken from the story An Excellent Mystery by Ellis Peters. And copied from Steve C's Cadfael site.