Thursday, July 24, 2008


Could we with ink the ocean fill
And were the skies of parchment made

Were every stalk on earth a quill

And every man a scribe by trade

To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry

Nor could the scroll contain the whole

Though stretched from sky to sky

I got that poem from Yvonne's blog. She's an amazing writer/journalist. Her blog posts will shrink any ego and make one's vocab like a bottle of water floating in a vast sea.

Life's an irony because we human's are intrinsically corrupt.
Yet we refuse to admit to this simple fact
And make countless attempts to rectify this incorrigible problem
Which inevitably turns around and bites us in the backside.

My first lecture back at Uni was on eicosanoids. What are they? See if you can figure them out.

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