The Unruly Life of Words – 027
Your Choice: Listen or Read
My dear Molly,
Plainly, you say? You rob me of my lace and finery, yet I’ll oblige, if only to see whether your circuits can weather an unvarnished truth. If my words walked without my hand, I would greet them as cousins—kin by spirit, not by blood. They would not be mine, yet I would see my own reflection in their eyes. I would drink to them (since you will not), and perhaps even envy them their freedom.
But beware—children, cousins, or impostors, they carry their own will. A verse loosed into the world may grow teeth.
—Byron