Yer muddlin' pleas
An' words like fleas
Wit' knotty meanin', twistin' ways -
Yor stoopid book'll take me days.
I'm not reading Socrates, but Ruth came in and saw a book about poetry on my desk and exclaimed "You're writing poetry?!" so I burst out in poetic fashion 'O Socrates!' (it seemed a poetic thing to say) and then felt compelled to finish the rest of it. And since I limited myself to spending sixty seconds on it, I like to think I've followed T.S. Eliot's advice rather well.
