Tuesday, 10 January 2012


How vainly men themselves amaze adding bits on to their houses - a games room, a gym, a private cinema. If I ever have the money, I shall build myself a phrontistery, or possibly a phrontisterion, they mean the same thing: a place for thinking.

In such a room the eager phrontist could meditate, cogitate and ponder. This would continue until I got into a bad mood, at which point I would go to the boudoir and sulk.

As Andrew Marvell said of his garden:

Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,
And Innocence, thy sister dear!
Mistaken long, I sought you then
In busy companies of men :
Your sacred plants, if here below,
Only among the plants will grow ;
Society is all but rude,
To this delicious solitude.

File:Phrontisterion of Trapezous.JPG


  1. In Dickens's Bleak House Jarndyce had a Growlery to grumble in, I would quite like one of those.

  2. Ooh, I want a Growery.

    Today's Metro has a gorilla posing pensively. Seems much happier than Rodin's thinker.