In a fit of boredom Fiona suggests doing a survey, where all the answers must be quotes. I am also bored, and will do this.

Who are you?

“Trying to define yourself is like trying to bite your own teeth.” – Alan W. Watts.

What do you look like?

“Exuberance is beauty.” – William Blake.

What’s your secret?

“He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. “ – Rafael Sabatini

What do you want to be?

“I never know what I think about something until I read what I’ve written on it.” – William Faulkner

What can you do?

“I think knowing what you cannot do is more important than knowing what you can.” – Lucille Ball

What can’t you do?

“There is the view that poetry should improve your life. I think people confuse it with the Salvation Army.” – John Ashbury

What is love?

“To love another person is to see the face of God. “ – Victor Hugo

What is friendship?

“A friend is one who knows us, but loves us anyway.” – Jerome Cummings

Are you strong?

“I am a slow walker, but I never walk backwards.” – Abraham Lincoln

What are you afraid of?

“The fear of being wrong is the prime inhibitor of the creative process.” – Jean Bryant

What would you do with a million dollars?

“He who knows he has enough is rich.” – Lao-tzu

What would you tell the one who loves you?

“I love you, not for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you.” – Roy Croft

What do you want to do?

“Express thyself, say something loudly” – Nick Cave.

Where do you want to be?

“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.” – Samuel Johnson

Who do you love?

“If I love you, what business is it of yours?” – Goethe

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all convictions, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.” – Yeats The Second Coming. Pretty much my favourite poem. Yes, I do know that there’s more to it than that, but that’s the bit that I like.

I fear I am coming down with a cold. Time to go home and sleep.

Like I said last week: I want to hate Starbucks. I know they’re evil. But they make gingerbread latte, and I am Weak. I never realised how cheaply I was willing to sell my principles, until now.

I’m back here in the office, working on the next version of Ninth Art’s code – I’m moving the site over to sexy OO code, now I know how to do it, in order that everything be much, much prettier than it was before. But there’s part of my brain taunting me with the knowledge that I have a bottle of claret back home, and mulling spices…

“The peel of a bell, and that Christmas tree smell, and eyes full of tinsel and fire” – I believe in Father Christmas

I can’t help it. I’m a sap for Christmas. I kvetch and moan about the tendency to start Christmas in November – I don’t believe the holiday season needs to be dragged out so it loses all it’s power, but come the end of the first week of December, I’ve got the Christmas CDs on, and am in a thoroughly festive mood. I would put decorations up, but I’m lazy. I might drape one of my bookshelves in fairy lights, this year, I guess.