Requiem for the Little Green Notebooks:

-- O! Thou little emerald tomes!

How oft did ere I scrawl upon thy pages.

Filling thee like paper chalices, running over, with the fervent tracings of my heart! The fiendish concoctions of my addled mind!

Fare thee well! Now supplanted by clockwork minions of the modern age; cast into the ash pile of history like so much crinkled tinder.

How would I cherish a last scribble within thy leathery covers! Your pages so willing, my ready pen primed with ink!