Sing we for love and idleness,
Naught else is worth the having.
Though I have been in many a land,
There is naught else in living.
And I would rather have my sweet,
Though rose-leaves die of grieving,
Than do high deeds in Hungary
To pass all men's believing.
-Ezra Pound
it's like a sign! well, if signs came from surfing through various links shared by friends. However I interpret it thus: pick up your knitting needles and get cracking.
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