Friday, January 30, 2009

unconscious of nightfall

in less than half-an-hour the started, the cider-makers in the yard having ceased their labours and gone away, so that the only sounds audible there now were the trickling of the juice from the tightly screwed press, and the buzz of a single wasp, which had drunk itself so tipsy that it was unconscious of nightfall.

thomas hardy - the woodlanders - 1887