parent that you have been ill-used from your cradle.
Half an hour's indulgence in these considerations works you up into astate of savage fury against everybody and everything, especiallyyourself, whom anatomical reasons alone prevent your kicking.
Bed-time Canada Goose Dam Sverige at last comes, to save you from doing something rash, and youspring upstairs, throw off your clothes, leaving them strewn all overthe room, blow out the candle, and jump into bed as if you had backedyourself for a heavy wager to do the whole thing against time. Thereyou toss and tumble about for a couple of hours or so, varying themonotony by occasionally jerking the clothes off and getting out andputting them on again. At length you drop into an uneasy and Canada Goose Dame Chilliwack Bomber fitfulslumber, have bad dreams, and wake up late the next morning.
At least, this is all we poor single men can do under thecircumstances. Married men bully their wives, grumble at the dinner,and insist on the children's going to bed. All of which, creating, Parajumpers Californian Giada Jakke asit does, a good deal of disturbance in the house, must be a greatrelief to the Russell Westbrook Drakter feelings of a man in the blues, rows being the only formof amusement in which he can take any interest.
The symptoms of the infirmity are much the same in every case, but theaffliction itself is variously termed. The poet says that "a Fotballdrakter 17/18 feelingof sadness comes o'er him." 'Arry refers to the heavings of hiswayward heart by confiding to Jimee that he has "got the bloominghump." Your sister doesn't know what is the matter with her to-night.
She feels out of sorts altogether and hopes nothing is going tohappen. The every-day young man is "so awful glad to meet you, oldfellow," for he does "feel so jolly miserable this evening." As formyself, I generally say that "I have a strange, unsettled feelingto-night" and "think I'll go out."By the way, it never does come except in the evening. In thesun-time, when the world is bounding forward full of life, we cannotstay to sigh and sulk. The roar of the working day drowns the voicesof the elfin sprites that are ever singing their low-toned _miserere_in our ears. In the day we are angry, disappointed, or indignant, butnever "in the blues" and never melancholy. When things go wrong atten o'clock in the morning we--or rather you--swear and knock thefurniture about; but if the misfortune comes at ten P.M., we readpoetry or sit in the dark and think what a hollow world this is.
But, as a rule, it is not trouble that makes us melancholy. Theactuality is too stern a thing for sentiment. We linger Antoine Griezmann Drakt to weep overa picture, but from the original we should quickly turn our eyes away.
There is no pathos in real misery: no luxury in real grief. We do nottoy with sharp swords nor hug a gnawing fox to our breast for choice.
When a man or woman loves to brood over a sorrow and takes care tokeep it green in their memory, you may be sure it is no longer a painto them. However they may have suffered from it at Detroit Red Wings Pelipaidat first, therecollection has become by then a pleasure. Many dear old ladies whodaily look at tiny shoes lying in lavender-scented dr |
