Terminal onlignity was reached at the point in the night where I encountered a take so bad, I was left misquoting Robert Bolt's Thomas More to
spatch. A Man for All Seasons (1960) falls in a class with Anouilh's Becket (1959) where my distance from the Christian conscience of their protagonists has never prevented me from loving the arguments of the plays, so that fragments of their language have been shot through my own for decades and thus when I see the claim on the internet that not visibly rejoicing in the murder of a CEO is flashing a red flag of complicity with the incoming administration, apparently my brain responds with its best approximation of "And when the last law was down, and the Devil turned round on you—where would you hide, Roper, the laws all being flat?"
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Active Entries
- 1: Chinatown, London Underground, you know it all sounds good to me
- 2: I'm singing out this poem all the way back home
- 3: Pa vez o pellaat da vag, ha ma c'hoantaez c'hoazh?
- 4: Take us roaming in the gloaming, your Ross rifle by your side
- 5: I spoke of crimes and of my friends in the same breath
- 6: You've got to live the life you're fighting for
- 7: Neuial a ran dre ar ruzenn
- 8: We have come to dance this dance to please the company
- 9: Thousands of ghosts in the daylight
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- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by and
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