Viola: Most excellent accomplish'd lady, the heavens rain odors on you!
Sir Andrew: That youth's a rare courtier—'rain odors,' well.
Viola: My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.
Sir Andrew: 'Odors,' 'pregnant,' and 'vouchsafed'; I'll get 'em all three all ready.
I had a long day today sorting old letters from sycophantic society ladies as I tried to clean out our conference room so it could be used for conferencing tomorrow - I didn't eat lunch and I missed my train going home, which wasn't a great beginning. But the heavens are raining odors today - the air is thick with moisture and the grass is fragrant and the lilacs are blooming. I need to walk home under the tall trees more often instead of just counting broken bottles along the factory route.
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