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Showing posts with the label a hard day's night

The utmost extent of man's knowledge, is to know that he knows nothing.

Henry eating an apple pie ice cream at Dark MOFO. Ice cream is a surprisingly delightful treat knee deep in Winter.

Nothing doth more hurt in a state than that cunning men pass for wise.

Heading home. East Derwent Highway, Geilston Bay. June 2012. Wordless Wednesday. Nearly there. East Derwent Highway, Geilston Bay. June 2012.

People are usually more convinced by reasons they discovered themselves than by those found by others.

STOP! Sandy Bay Road, Sandy Bay. December 2011. I am having Boxing Day off. I hope all is well with you and yours.

delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles?

What are they doing in there? 10 Murray Street at night. Hobart. July 2011. I like e.e. as I like 10 Murray: with intensity . However, if a poet were a building e.e. would be anything but a brutalist bureaucratic block. the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls , by E. E. Cummings the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds (also, with the church's protestant blessings daughters,unscented shapeless spirited) they believe in Christ and Longfellow, both dead, are invariably interested in so many things— at the present writing one still finds delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles? perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D .... the Cambridge ladies do not care, above Cambridge if sometimes in its box of sky lavender and cornerless, the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy

If you never change your mind, why have one?

There is more than a touch of mop top about cranky Hanky here. I think that this photograph recalls a colourised version of A Hard Day’s Night – minus the collarless suit, of course. The question is, however, which of the loveable Liverpudlians is Henry?