I ought not tohave neglected is concerned. Idling always has been my strong point.
I take no credit to myself in the matter--it is a gift. Few possessit. There are plenty of lazy people and plenty of slow-coaches, but agenuine idler is a rarity. He is not a man who slouches about withhis hands in his pockets. On the contrary, his most startlingcharacteristic is that he is always intensely busy.
It is impossible Menn Fotballdrakter to enjoy idling thoroughly unless one has plenty ofwork to do. There is no Menn Federico Dimarco Fotballdrakter fun in doing nothing when you have nothing todo. Wasting time is merely an occupation then, and a most exhaustingone. Idleness, like kisses, to be sweet must be stolen.
Many Menn Radamel Falcao Fotballdrakter years ago, when I was a young man, I was taken very ill--I nevercould see myself that much was the matter with me, except that I had abeastly cold. But I suppose it was something very serious, for thedoctor said that I ought to have come to him a month before, and thatif it (whatever it was) had gone on for another week he would not haveanswered for the consequences. Menn Fabian Johnson Fotballdrakter It Menn Rodrigo Palacio Fotballdrakter is an extraordinary thing, but Inever knew a doctor called into any case yet but what it transpiredthat another day's delay would have rendered cure hopeless. Ourmedical guide, philosopher, and friend is like the hero in amelodrama--he always comes upon the scene just, and only just, in thenick of time. It is Providence, Bayern Trikot that is what it is.
Well, as I was saying, I was very ill and was ordered to Buxton for amonth, with strict injunctions to do nothing whatever all the whilethat I was there. "Rest is what you require," said the doctor,"perfect rest."It seemed a delightful prospect. "This man evidently understands mycomplaint," said I, and I pictured to myself a glorious time--a fourweeks' _dolce far niente_ with a dash of illness in it. Not too muchillness, but just illness enough--just sufficient to give it theflavor of suffering and make it poetical. I should get up late, sipchocolate, and have my breakfast in slippers and a dressing-gown. Ishould lie out in the garden in a hammock and read sentimental novelswith a melancholy ending, until the books should fall from my listlesshand, and I should recline there, dreamily gazing into the deep blueof the firmament, watching the fleecy clouds floating likewhite-sailed ships across its depths, and listening to the joyous songof the birds and the Menn Fotballdrakter low rustling of the trees. Or, on becoming tooweak to go out of doors, I should sit propped up with pillows at theopen window of the ground-floor front, and look wasted andinteresting, so that all the pretty girls would sigh as they passedby.
And twice a day I should go down in a Bath chair to the Colonnade todrink the waters. Oh, those waters! I knew nothing about them then,and was rather taken with the idea. "Drinking the waters" soundedfashionable and Queen Anne-fied, and I thought I should like them.
But, ugh! after the first three or four mornings! Sam Weller'sdescription of them as "having a taste of warm flat-irons" conveysonly a faint idea of their hideous nauseousness. If anything could |
