Two hymns from CofE hymnology both sung to the same tune, each containing an (unintentionally) entertaining nugget. The first, Glory To Thee, My God, This Night, throws up this:
Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed
Are you familiar with bathos? - an English language figure-of-speech defined as "anticlimax (esp. literary) created by an unintentional lapse in mood from the sublime to the trivial or ridiculous." Look no further for an example.
The extract from Awake, My Soul, And With The Sun, is subtler, a collector's item:
Direct, control, suggest, this day,
All I design, or do, or say.
The beginning of a text in A-level philosophy, geometry or carpentry? The French would say it presumes a dirigiste universe. Though being French they would not say who is driving.
THINGS I'M ASHAMED OF BUT WHAT THE HELL An addiction revisited. No one who can tolerate the custard in custard doughnuts can be said to have a palate.
That pungent mixture of esters, valencies and sulphides (I jest. I know nothing of these things.) rules out all informed gustatory comment. So forget my wine recommendations since I secretly relish these caky, chemical sausages. At least I do when I can find them. The nanny state has decided I need protecting from myself and is making them rarer and rarer. Soon I'll be reduced to parsnip purée from a tiny jar.
WIP Second Hand (No recent additions)
Francine smiled indulgently. “You persuaded me about the chin though I'll never quite understand how. But these bony buttresses stand out like geometry: straight lines, no dignity. They're not cheeks in any sense, they're contractions. Bits and pieces plastered in the centre; a cramped collage.”