"Of course there is a German word for it: 'Kofferbuch.' A book that one takes along on a trip with the intention of reading, but never actually read." --@TimothyDaw
"SO FOR THE LITTLE WHILE
So for the little while that you remain
In spite of sure decay, an unscarred curve
Of terrible granite, or the naked nerve
Of steel that severs cleanly, without pain--
Leaving the startled victim without moan
Until the swordsman vanishes from sight
And the wound wakes to torture in the night--
So for this little while I am your own.
But when I am made conscious of green mould
Upon the granite, or a sheath of rust
Upon the steel, I shall rise and fling
Myself against the pressure of your dust,
Seeking the beauty that is never old,
Which I shall find, if I find anything."
--Lindley Williams Hubbell, in: Braithwaite's Anthology of Magazine Verse, 1925
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