39.

the unhappitents of the earth have terrerumbled from fimament unto fundament and from tweedledeedumms down to twiddledeedees.

40.

Ha he hi ho hu.

41.

As we there are where are we are we there from tomtittot to teetootomtotalitarian. Tea tea too oo.

42.

Ainsoph, this upright one, with that noughty besighed him zeroine. To see in his horrorscup he is mehrkurios than saltz of sulphur. Terror of the noonstruck by day, cryptomgram of each nightly bridable. But, to speak broken heaven talk, is he?

43.

Knock.
A password, thanks.
Yes, pearse.
Well, all be dumbed!
O really?
Hoo cavedin earthwight

44.

The tasks above are as flasks below, saith the emerald canticle of Hermes and all's loth and pleasetir, are we told, on excellent inkbottle authority, solarsytemised, seriol-cosmically, in a more and more almightily expanding universe under one, there is rhymeless reason to believe, original sun.

45.

Startnaked and bonedstiff. We vivvy soddy. All be dood.

*

46.

H' dk' fs' h'p'y.

47.

O june of eves the jenniest.

48.

So mag this sybilette be our shibboleth that we may syllable her well.

49.

all thinking all of it, the It with an itch in it, the All every inch of it, the pleasure each will preen her for, the business each was bred to breed by.

50.

Every letter is a godsend, ardent Ares, brusque Boreas and glib Ganymede like zealous Zeus, the O'Meghisthest of all. To me or not to me. Satis thy quest on.

51.

Though Wonderlawn's lost us for ever. Alis, alas, she broke the glass! Liddell lokker through the leafery, ours is mistery of pain.

52.

This is the glider that gladdened the girl that list to the wind that lifted the leaves that folded the fruit that hung on the tree that grew in the garden Gough gave.

*

53.

Leda, Lada, aflutter-afraida, so does your girdle grow! Willed without witting, whorled without aimed.

54.

She wins them by wons, a haul hectoendecate, for mangay mumbo jumbjubes tak muttsa nd jeffs muchas bracelonettes gracies barcelonas.

55.

All the world loves a big gleaming jelly.

56.

O boyjones and hairyoddities!

57.

What's Hiccuper to hem or her to Hagaba? Ough, ough, brieve kindli!

58.

And it's time that all paid tribute to this massive mortality, the pink of punk perfection as photography in mud.

59.

Johnny Post: pack, puck. All the world's in want and is writing a letters. A letters from a person to a place about a thing. And all the world's on wish to be carrying a letters. A letters to a king about a treasure from a cat. When men want to write a letters. Ten men, ton men, pen men, pun men, wont to rise a ladder. And den men, dun men, fen men, fun men, hen men, hun men wend to raze a leader. Is then any lettersday from many peoples, Daganasanavitch? Empire, your outermost. A posy cord. Plece.

*

And that brings us up to date, more or less. I knew you were wondering what had happened to that little project ...