autumn

The morns are meeker than they were -
The nuts are getting brown -
The berry's cheek is plumper -
The Rose is out of town.
The Maple wears a gayer scarf -
The field a scarlet gown -
Lest I should be old-fashioned
I'll put a trinket on.

Don't tell me you don't like to read poetry, because you just did. Don't tell me you don't like Emily Dickinson, because you just read some of her work, and you enjoyed it, didn't you? Admit it!

Part of my Sunday afternoon was spent reading poetry just for the fun of it. Other portions of it were spent talking to Laurie (who came up to visit! yay!), reading II Corinthians and snoozing gently wrapped up in my sister's fuzzy white blanket.

Tomorrow I have a midterm in Theories of Communication (COM 102). Thus I must go to bed, but first I shall leave you with some insightful knowledge. One quote I recall to have amused me when we were studying Interpersonal Deception Theory (aka "the theory that teaches you to be a good liar") comes from Freud concerning observations of a liar...

"If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore."