It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of rain.
Christmas won't be Christmas without any rain.
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the rain.
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the rain...
Call me rain.
The world was all before them, where to choose their place of rest, and Providence their guide; they hand in hand with wandering steps and slow, though Eden took their solitary rain.
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2 comments:
So I guess this really is the wettest summer on record, huh?
Ooh, can I play?
"Where's Papa going with that rain?"
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