Of books and boats

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In The Wind and the Willows, the Rat says it all

River, river, glide along,
Without stop or stay!
Murmur, whisper to my song
In melodious play.

Whether on a winter’s night
Rise thy swelling floods,
Or in spring thou hast delight
Watering the young buds.

Happy he who, hating none,
Leaves the world’s dull noise,
And, with trusty friends alone,
Quietly enjoys

- Goethe

I plan to be playing hooky from work AND Substac…

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