I really can't be expected to drop everything and count sheep, at my age. I hate sheep. Untender it may be in me, but all my life I've hated sheep. It amounts to a phobia, the way I hate them. I can tell the minute there's one in the room. They needn't think that I am going to lie here in the dark and count their unpleasant little faces for them; I wouldn't do it if I didn't fall asleep again until the middle of next August. Suppose they never get counted-- what's the worst that can happen? If the number of imaginary sheep in this world remains a matter of guesswork, who is the richer or poorer for it? No sir; I'm not their scorekeeper. Let them count themselves, if they're so crazy mad after mathematics. Let them do their own dirty work. Coming around here, at this time of day, asking me to count them! And not even real sheep, at that.
-- Dorothy Parker, The Little Hours
Some changes have been made to LiveJournal, and we hope you enjoy them! As we continue to improve the site on a daily basis to make your experience here better and faster, we would greatly appreciate your feedback about these changes. Please let us know what we can do for you!
See a bug? Let us know! Here you can also share your thoughts and ideas about updates to LiveJournal
Your request has been filed. You can track the progress of your request at:
If you have any other questions or comments, you can add them to that request at any time.