They Say it's in the Genes II
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There was a man who considered himself the most handsome gentleman in London.
He could hardly walk about his fine mansion without stopping to admire himself in one of the many mirrors that adorned his walls. Like Narcissus he would be frozen to the spot for hours at a time, enthralled at his own features.
The gentleman however was of a young age and, being so, recognized with age the looks he took such pleasure from now would someday recede.
These thoughts disturbed his mind, plagued his sleep and put him into great despair. How he cursed time. The endless passing of day and night, the mocking of the ticking clock. They sought to steal that he valued most, with a cruel and ceaseless attrition.
Angst, turned to a fit of depression. He took to endlessly pacing his empty home, inconsolable to what few friends still cared, who visited in hopeless attempts to provide cheer.
In silent contemplation, he leaned over a high balcony and considered the height of the fall. He whispered to himself ‘I would give all I have, if I could stop the cruel passage of time. If only I could retain that which gives me joy. Alas, I cannot fight nature. Now onto another place’.
|I am so very lovely, just look at me you awful little people|
"You only have to look around our society and everything he wrote about in the 1840s is still relevant - the great gulf between the rich and poor, corrupt financiers, corrupt MPs, how the country is run by old Etonians, you name it, he said it."
Source: BBC News, Child lack the ability for Dickens; read more