A good morning

"Confoundedly pompous old git" thought the veritable biographer. Half an hour later he approached his correspondent's doorstep and was not surprised to see an example of his eccentricity – a message pinned to the door, which read:

    "It is indeed a good morning when we can be certain of things."

The veritable biographer ground his teeth slightly, as at an name taken in vain. He removed the notice, which was obscuring the doorbell as if it both intended to hide and to draw attention to it. "He wants me to think he's out!" he thought, and extended a finger towards the bell.

The 16-ton weight demolished the porch completely. All that was left of the veritable biographer were the reverberating springs of a metaphysic which always had run slightly slow.

Moral: Never were ?! a monocle in your ear.