The most fun you can ever have at the library
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I'm reading the letters of Lord Byron. Holy shit this is all just gold.
My Dear Becher
I am of so much importance that a most violent attack is preparing for me in the next number of the
Edinburgh Review
I am sorry — but "Childish Recollections" must be suppressed during this edition. I have altered, at your suggestion, the
obnoxious allusions
in the sixth stanza of my last ode.
Believe me, most truly, etc.
It's cracking my shit up here. Samuel Pepys has nothing on Byron.
Dear Jack,
I wish you would inform me what has been done by Jekyll, at No. 40, Sloane Square, concerning the pony I returned as unsound.I have also to request you will call on Louch at Brompton, and inquire what the devil he meant by sending such an insolent letter to me at Brighton; and at the same time tell him I by no means can comply with the charge he has made for things pretended to be damaged.
Ambrose behaved most scandalously about the pony. You may tell Jekyll if he does not refund the money, I shall put the affair into my lawyer's hands. Five and twenty guineas is a sound price for a pony, and by God, if it costs me five hundred pounds, I will make an example of Mr. Jekyll, and that immediately, unless the cash is returned.
Believe me, dear Jack, etc.
I'd love to know just what the hell that was about.
And I don't care what century you're in, this is a sick fucking burn:
“Of Turdsworth the great Metaquizzical poet
A man of vast merit, though few people know it;
The perusal of whom (as I told you at Mestri)
I owe, in great part, to my passion for pastry.”
