Now that the election is over, spare time can be allocated in different ways again.
And once more I notice how I'm behind in glancing at poetry.
Yesterday I found one with lines that seem familiar. Andrew Marvell is the poet, though that sure seems like a magician's stage name, if you ask me.
Anyway, the lines are (from "To His Coy Mistress"):
Had we but world enough, and time
Now let us sport us while we may
Both seem worth remembering and dropping knowingly - that is, if you enjoy having people stuff you in gym lockers.
There are a few in between that are quite jolly, too, of which my favorite is (speaking of having but enough time and world):
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.