Explore "The Enormous Room" by E.E. Cummings on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Sunday (says Mr. Pound with infinite penetration) is a dreadful day, / Monday is much pleasanter. / Then let us muse a little space / Upon fond Nature's morbid grace. "
It is a great and distinct pleasure to have penetrated and arrived upon the outside of _La Dimanche_. We may now-Nature's morbid grace being a topic whereof the reader has already heard much and will necessarily hear more-turn to the "much pleasanter," the in fact "Monday," aspect of La Ferté; by which I mean _les nouveaux_ whose arrivals and reactions constituted the actual kinetic aspect of our otherwise merely real Nonexistence. So let us tighten our belts, (everyone used to tighten his belt at least twice a day at La Ferté, but for another reason-to follow and keep track of his surely shrinking anatomy) seize our staffs into our hands, and continue the ascent begun with the first pages of the story.