#'it shall be free as our mothers are' the great cloud of witnesses that came before were free and they began the city we are building

[bookoformon]

1 Nephi Chapter 11. "Words Like Dew."

Nephi sees the Spirit of the Lord and is shown in vision the tree of life—He sees the mother of the Son of God and learns of the condescension of God—He sees the baptism, ministry, and crucifixion of the Lamb of God—He sees also the call and ministry of the Twelve Apostles of the Lamb. About 600–592 B.C.

Condescension refers an attitude of disapproval. The state of apostasy I mentioned before is the reason God is condescending rather than descending as He did in Exodus 34:5:

Then the LORD came down in the cloud and stood there with him and proclaimed his name, the LORD.

Also in the Song of Moses from Ha'azenu:

30 And Moses recited the words of this song from beginning to end in the hearing of the whole assembly of Israel:

32 Listen, you heavens, and I will speak;  hear, you earth, the words of my mouth. 2 Let my teaching fall like rain  and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants.

3 I will proclaim the name of the Lord. Oh, praise the greatness of our God! 4 He is the Rock, his works are perfect, and all his ways are just. A faithful God who does no wrong, upright and just is he.

5 They are corrupt and not his children; to their shame they are a warped and crooked generation. 6 Is this the way you repay the Lord,  you foolish and unwise people? Is he not your Father, your Creator who made you and formed you?

Nephi, like Moses is taken up to a mountain as God "condescends" to his level: it's a different meeting than the one on Sinai. Instead of threatening to use 10 Plagues to Free the Israelites, the Spirit warns of 12 Antichrists and explains how, because of them, things did not exactly go so well when the Son of Mary tried to minister to the human race.

In spite of our failures to read and comprehend the Torah and the Gospels, all persons must still try to climb to the Heights, where the amount of space between the self and the God of Israel resides. This comes from first regarding the Tree of Life, humanity and its roots and branches and its fount- our shared intelligences and technologies with the utmost esteem.

See v. 22:

22 And I answered him, saying: Yea, it is the alove of God, which bsheddeth itself abroad in the hearts of the children of men; wherefore, it is the cmost desirable above all things.

1 For it came to pass after I had desired to know the things that my father had seen, and believing that the Lord was able to make them known unto me, as I sat apondering in mine heart I was bcaught away in the Spirit of the Lord, yea, into an exceedingly high cmountain, which I never had before seen, and upon which I never had before set my foot.

2 And the Spirit said unto me: Behold, what adesirest thou?

3 And I said: I desire to behold the things which my father asaw.

4 And the Spirit said unto me: aBelievest thou that thy father saw the btree of which he hath spoken?

5 And I said: Yea, thou knowest that I abelieve all the words of my father.

6 And when I had spoken these words, the Spirit cried with a loud voice, saying: Hosanna to the Lord, the most high God; for he is God over all the aearth, yea, even above all. And blessed art thou, Nephi, because thou bbelievest in the Son of the most high God; wherefore, thou shalt behold the things which thou hast desired.

7 And behold this thing shall be given unto thee for a asign, that after thou hast beheld the tree which bore the fruit which thy father tasted, thou shalt also behold a man descending out of heaven, and him shall ye witness; and after ye have witnessed him ye shall bbear record that it is the Son of God.

8 And it came to pass that the Spirit said unto me: Look! And I looked and beheld a tree; and it was like unto the atree which my father had seen; and the bbeauty thereof was far beyond, yea, exceeding of all beauty; and the cwhiteness thereof did exceed the whiteness of the driven snow.

9 And it came to pass after I had seen the tree, I said unto the Spirit: I behold thou hast shown unto me the tree which is aprecious above all.

10 And he said unto me: What desirest thou?

11 And I said unto him: To know the ainterpretation thereof—for I spake unto him as a man speaketh; for I beheld that he was in the bform of a man; yet nevertheless, I knew that it was the Spirit of the Lord; and he spake unto me as a man speaketh with another.

12 And it came to pass that he said unto me: Look! And I looked as if to look upon him, and I saw him not; for he had gone from before my presence.

13 And it came to pass that I looked and beheld the great city of Jerusalem, and also other cities. And I beheld the city of Nazareth; and in the city of aNazareth I beheld a bvirgin, and she was exceedingly fair and white.

14 And it came to pass that I saw the aheavens open; and an angel came down and stood before me; and he said unto me: Nephi, what beholdest thou?

15 And I said unto him: A virgin, most beautiful and fair above all other virgins.

16 And he said unto me: Knowest thou the acondescension of God?

17 And I said unto him: I know that he loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things.

18 And he said unto me: Behold, the avirgin whom thou seest is the bmother of the Son of God, after the manner of the flesh.

19 And it came to pass that I beheld that she was carried away in the Spirit; and after she had been carried away in the aSpirit for the space of a time the angel spake unto me, saying: Look!

20 And I looked and beheld the virgin again, bearing a achild in her arms.

21 And the angel said unto me: Behold the aLamb of God, yea, even the bSon of the Eternal cFather! Knowest thou the meaning of the dtree which thy father saw?

22 And I answered him, saying: Yea, it is the alove of God, which bsheddeth itself abroad in the hearts of the children of men; wherefore, it is the cmost desirable above all things.

23 And he spake unto me, saying: Yea, and the most ajoyous to the soul.

24 And after he had said these words, he said unto me: Look! And I looked, and I beheld the Son of God agoing forth among the children of men; and I saw many fall down at his feet and worship him.

25 And it came to pass that I beheld that the arod of iron, which my father had seen, was the bword of God, which cled to the fountain of dliving waters, or to the etree of life; which waters are a representation of the love of God; and I also beheld that the tree of life was a representation of the love of God.

26 And the angel said unto me again: Look and behold the acondescension of God!

27 And I looked and abeheld the Redeemer of the world, of whom my father had spoken; and I also beheld the bprophet who should prepare the way before him. And the Lamb of God went forth and was cbaptized of him; and after he was baptized, I beheld the heavens open, and the Holy Ghost come down out of heaven and abide upon him in the form of a ddove.

28 And I beheld that he went forth ministering unto the people, in apower and great glory; and the multitudes were gathered together to hear him; and I beheld that they cast him out from among them.

29 And I also beheld atwelve others following him. And it came to pass that they were bcarried away in the Spirit from before my face, and I saw them not.

30 And it came to pass that the angel spake unto me again, saying: Look! And I looked, and I beheld the heavens open again, and I saw aangels descending upon the children of men; and they did minister unto them.

31 And he spake unto me again, saying: Look! And I looked, and I beheld the Lamb of God going forth among the children of men. And I beheld multitudes of people who were asick, and who were afflicted with all manner of diseases, and with bdevils and cunclean spirits; and the angel spake and showed all these things unto me. And they were dhealed by the power of the Lamb of God; and the devils and the unclean spirits were cast out.

32 And it came to pass that the angel spake unto me again, saying: Look! And I looked and beheld the Lamb of God, that he was ataken by the people; yea, the Son of the everlasting God was bjudged of the world; and I saw and bear record.

33 And I, Nephi, saw that he was alifted up upon the cross and bslain for the sins of the world.

34 And after he was slain I saw the multitudes of the earth, that they were gathered together to afight against the apostles of the Lamb; for thus were the twelve called by the angel of the Lord.

35 And the multitude of the earth was gathered together; and I beheld that they were in a large and spacious abuilding, like unto the building which my father saw. And the angel of the Lord spake unto me again, saying: Behold the world and the wisdom thereof; yea, behold the house of Israel hath gathered together to bfight against the twelve apostles of the Lamb.

36 And it came to pass that I saw and bear record, that the great and spacious building was the apride of the world; and it bfell, and the fall thereof was exceedingly great. And the angel of the Lord spake unto me again, saying: Thus shall be the destruction of all nations, kindreds, tongues, and people, that shall fight against the twelve apostles of the Lamb.

The 12 Apostles form a Tantra. The 12 Antichrists create a warning, a curse!

Peter= "the stone" AKA "a rocky start".

Andrew= Manly, Manliness, Man Of Vows, Man Of Liberty

James= He who closely follows

John= Yah is gracious

Philip= Lover Of Horse(s), He Who Leans On His Military Complex

Bartholomew/Nathanael=One of the Plowmen, or Son of Furrows/God has given

Matthew= Gifted

Thomas= Twin

James son of Alphaeus=He Who Closely Follows, Supplanter/To traverse

Simon the Zealot=He who hears

Judas the Greater= Let Him Be Praised

Judas Iscariot =Let Him be Praised, the Man of Kerioth= the city in the most extreme South, or place of intelligence, after this is West, the place of enlightenment.

Ode to the Man on the Horse.

"Let him be praised the man who is the most intelligent, who listens and closely follows the One Who Traverses, Whom God has given to bind us together in freedom and Grace."

Beware The Curse:

"Beware the men who consort with devils, who lie, who follow the one that ascends from Hell, whom Satan has sent to distract, enslave and cause fear and disgrace us all."

[catolinewsdailyreadings]

Tuesday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of Tuesday, January 31, 2023

Reading 1

Hebrews 12: 1-4

With so many witnesses in a great cloud all around us, we too, then, should throw off everything that weighs us down and the sin that clings so closely, and with perseverance keep running in the race which lies ahead of us.

Let us keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, who leads us in our faith and brings it to perfection: for the sake of the joy which lay ahead of him, he endured the cross, disregarding the shame of it, and has taken his seat at the right of God's throne.

Think of the way he persevered against such opposition from sinners and then you will not lose heart and come to grief.

In the fight against sin, you have not yet had to keep fighting to the point of bloodshed.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalms 22:26-27, 28, 30, 31-32

The poor will eat and be filled, those who seek Yahweh will praise him, 'May your heart live for ever.'

The whole wide world will remember and return to Yahweh, all the families of nations bow down before him.

For to Yahweh, ruler of the nations, belongs kingly power!

their descendants will serve him, will proclaim his name to generations

still to come; and these will tell of his saving justice to a people yet unborn: he has fulfilled it.

Gospel

Mark 5:21-43

When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a large crowd gathered round him and he stayed by the lake.

Then the president of the synagogue came up, named Jairus, and seeing him, fell at his feet and begged him earnestly, saying, 'My little daughter is desperately sick. Do come and lay your hands on her that she may be saved and may live.'

Jesus went with him and a large crowd followed him; they were pressing all round him.

Now there was a woman who had suffered from a haemorrhage for twelve years; after long and painful treatment under various doctors, she had spent all she had without being any the better for it; in fact, she was getting worse.

She had heard about Jesus, and she came up through the crowd and touched his cloak from behind, thinking, 'If I can just touch his clothes, I shall be saved.'

And at once the source of the bleeding dried up, and she felt in herself that she was cured of her complaint.

And at once aware of the power that had gone out from him, Jesus turned round in the crowd and said, 'Who touched my clothes?'

His disciples said to him, 'You see how the crowd is pressing round you; how can you ask, "Who touched me?" '

But he continued to look all round to see who had done it.

Then the woman came forward, frightened and trembling because she knew what had happened to her, and she fell at his feet and told him the whole truth.

'My daughter,' he said, 'your faith has restored you to health; go in peace and be free of your complaint.'

While he was still speaking some people arrived from the house of the president of the synagogue to say, 'Your daughter is dead; why put the Master to any further trouble?'

But Jesus overheard what they said and he said to the president of the synagogue, 'Do not be afraid; only have faith.'

And he allowed no one to go with him except Peter and James and John the brother of James.

So they came to the house of the president of the synagogue, and Jesus noticed all the commotion, with people weeping and wailing unrestrainedly.

He went in and said to them, 'Why all this commotion and crying? The child is not dead, but asleep.'

But they ridiculed him. So he turned them all out and, taking with him the child's father and mother and his own companions, he went into the place where the child lay.

And taking the child by the hand he said to her, 'Talitha kum!' which means, 'Little girl, I tell you to get up.'

The little girl got up at once and began to walk about, for she was twelve years old. At once they were overcome with astonishment, and he gave them strict orders not to let anyone know about it, and told them to give her something to eat.

[queenlucythevaliant]

"City of Men" is even better than "Jerusalem" in terms of its sheer power to compel me to get out the brick and mortar and start physically building the Holy City here on earth until God relents and brings it about properly and more people ought to know it. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

"City of Men," Charles Williams

How shall we build the city of men,

Love and our mays and we,

Who are not sons of the bondwomen

It shall be free as our mothers are,

But children of the free ?

.

Who seem as Sinai,

Moving their heads in that covenant

Though they be broken of men to-day,

So anciently and high.

.

Bruised with toil and pain,

Liberty that is the soul of them

They by whom we were brought to be,

Shall surely stand again.

.

Born to the ways of men.

Walk in our midst, of that free city

Thus to build up the city of men.

Each a free citizen.

.

Love and our mays and we,

Being not sons of the bondwomen

It shall be free as our lovers are,

But children of the free!

.

Holily loved and trod,

They by whom we were brought to be.

Little, O little, upon our hearts

Born to the ways of God.

.

Seemed they within our love, —

O but the mightiness in them hid,

Queens, and they rendered themselves to us

We were afraid thereof!

.

O but we knew them then.

Republican in Jerusalem,

Thus will we toil at the city of men.

City and citizen.

.

Whose name is liberty,

Jerusalem, the mother of all.

Stand fast, stand fast for Jerusalem,

That is above and free.

.

Stand fast in liberty:

We are not sons of the bondwomen

But children of the free!

[srbachchan]

DAY 4820

Jalsa, Mumbai                May 9/10,  2021                Sun/Mon 12:24 AM

When young suffer .. when the child suffers .. when the haunt of its bearing clouds the mind with nothing but that .. when time and again the repeat of its presence in some permanence in your life propels you to understand the environ is daunting and without consider .. then gripped in remorse and sadness you drop all else and sit with nothingness .. 

One can move mountains in belief and the weight of endless adversity, but if the insides are drenched in the assess that the paths are damaged and worn .. played out in the drama of a fine performance that seeks attention when attention is not the real cause .. then you sit up .. take stock .. work out the for and the against and come to conclude that the eventual set , should be to remove the cancerous pain , bear it for a while but live in the relief that it shall not be there in permanence once removed .. 

The ability to , despite unfavourable nature , shall ever be the halting block .. but the drama and the performance can ever be seen through, especially when you are surrounded by individuals similar in the despite .. 

Your complacency could be renowned .. as may be your penchant for harmony .. but for whom .. your own demeanour shall never be the object .. the other works arduously to be in the attention .. 

Point is .. they seek away from theirs .. we know the seek .. we see the transparent glass that you present each episode .. that glass gives it all away .. it is now no longer the gambit .. it is the humour of farce in the comedy of the bards errors .. 

Best then to ‘away away bright lite ..’ 

Give me room and space to breathe in my birth environ .. that is reason for departure from the fire tests to the charm of warmth ..

I speak in parables .. may be .. but there is a reality to the mind if nothing else .. a reality that brings and weighs you down .. puts the mountain over the head and drowns you with its booming energy of volume suppressing the tone of the need to air it ..

Air it then .. and end it ..

WORK on the conditions about, relentlessly continues .. campaigns for relief and the give .. at forums that cover the seas beyond .. one such the VaX Concert with dignitaries of the celebrity brand and more resolve to join the fight .. and WIN ..

The one immediately below 👇🏿 , be one such  ..

BUT more at home , the presence of the progeny develops into endeavours that stun you with their thinking and thought .. and our little Navya Naveli .. not so little anymore, speaks about the venture she has begun on her own, with her own and determined to build the initiative she believes in .. here be the link .. for one so young and mature in thought and word was truly a moment of great pride as a Nana as grand parents .. 👇🏿 

Link for Navya Spotify Link : https://open.spotify.com/episode/4DnVZj9kRFjrwm71r5ZVc9?si=0x5egAuDQWmXd1qYH2fkvA

... and there is more .. for some are disturbed in the Ef fraternity of the brevity in the Blog and wonder if the mind is disturbed , ill , concerned , indisposed .. 

No it is not .. 

The hesitancy comes from whether to SPEAK or not ..

But whether I show concern over it or not I find that surreptitiously some of them that are the privileged in the World of writing and inform, have through means sourced the matter that was kept under the hatter .. and now as with all matter within these modern times, nothing remains buried in silence .. it rises and volumes the announce elsewhere ..

SO .. my Nana, my grandfather , my Mother’s Father Sardar Khazan Singh Suri the affluent Bar at Law in pre partition Punjab, was married to Amar Kaur Sodhi, my Naani , my Mother’s mother .. and gave birth to my Mother Teji Kaur Suri .. 

The Sodhi’s are considered the descendents of the Guru’s of the Sikh religion .. the location of the birth of the religion being AnandPur Sahib, the  Gurudwara now in India Punjab and a most revered temple of the Sikhs .. 

The readings of the autobiography of my Father, detailing the history of his In Laws educated me .. I never had courage or the need to ask this of my Father or my Mother .. but having known ,it came to me that there has been no remembrance of Nana and Naani through the years .. so a remembrance needed to be done .. 

CovID occurred and in the months and time that has passed from the ‘20 to the ‘21 and one witnessed the hardships of those that suffered .. 

Yes I do charity , but have ever believed it to be done,  than spoken of .. it is embarrassing , in too great a self consciousness .. of one that has ever felt shy of public presence despite the profession - one that has to find its usp in public domains is relevant today for me .. 

The pressure though .. the every day abuse and the filth of distasteful comment has never been of attention to me or to the family .. we have seen it from time immemorial .. happens .. some are ridden with the wisdom that it shall happen .. so all the efforts continued in the quiet .. no divulge to the information agencies .. no talk of it either .. only the receiver knew and that was the end ..

Over 1500 farmers’ bank loans paid off by my personal fund and prevented them from suicide , as the suicides grew  .. from Andhra Pradesh, Maharashtra, UP et al .. calling them over after identifying with respective banks and getting them all to Janak and in the presence of the bank representatives, paying them in person and getting them to strike off the loan , giving each farmer the document that they did not owe any more , that their loan was over and completed and paid back to the bank .. some 300 odd from UP could not all be present .. a bogie in the train booked for a limited number of 30 to 50 of them , from their respective cities in UP, received them in Mumbai , put them in buses , given a drive of the city of Mumbai, brought over to Janak, fed and given the loan cancellation certificate and put back on the train to their homes .. all at my expense ..

The brave soldiers at the border of the Country who had been martyred , their lists sought and their families , young wives and their children, some wives pregnant and expectant , given succour ..

The martyr’s at Pulwama after the terrible terrorist attack , their families spread all over the land contacted and brought to Janak and given succour .. at the hands of Abhishek and Shweta  .. 

Those that suffered during the CoViD last year .. providing food for over 400,000 - 4 lakh - daily wage earners in the country for a month .. feeding almost 5000 in the city each day lunch and dinner .. 

Provided masks , PPE units to front line warriors, Police Hospitals in the thousands .. through personal funds .. donating to the Sikh Committee that was helping the migrants to travel back home in the Inter State busses , where the drivers were mostly Sikhs ..

When the migrants were walking back home, some without the benefit or affordability of shoes .. provided hundreds of chappals and shoes to them .. due to lack of travel facility, booked 30 buses to locations in UP and Bihar and supplied them food and water for the overnight travel ..

Booked an entire train from Mumbai to UP to carry 2800 migrant passengers free of cost at my expense .. and when the destination State blocked the train from coming into their State and cancelled the train .. immediately chartered 3 Indigo Airline planes and flew almost 180 migrants in each flight to UP and Bihar and some to Rajasthan and J&K .. free of cost ..

And as the virus spread, donated an entire Diagnostic Centre  .. opened at Bangla Sahib Gurudwara in Delhi through the Delhi Sikh Gurudwara Management Committee, set up in the premises of the Gurudwara for medical help for the poor and needy .. an MRI machine and other Sonographic and Scan equipments of expenses beyond my means, but set up inspite .. in the memory of my Nana , Naani and my Mother ..

A 250 to 450 bed care centre set up with further donation at the Rakabganj Sahib Gurudwara today in Delhi and soon to procure for them O2 ( Oxygen ) concentrators, not in stock or easily available , from overseas limited stock to be donated to Delhi where the need is immense and some to Mumbai .. coming in within the week .. 50 of them coming in from Poland by 15th and the rest around 150 from perhaps the US .. orders placed , some have arrived and given to the Hospital in need .. 

Ventilators of immediate need to the BMC and to the Municipal Hospitals ordered .. around 20 of them , of course within my limited means , to be in, in a few days .. some 10 have arrived today and on custom release shall be delivered ..

A 25-50 bed Hospital care centre setting up at Juhu Army location at a School Hall , the Ritambhara School, with all facilities and should be up by the 12th of May .. donated funds to set up ..

3 very important detection machines donated to Nanavati Hospital , last week to help in the detection of CoviD ..

Feeding about a 1000 in the slums and poor sections of the city .. 

Young children .. orphaned by the sudden death of the parents, left in oblivion .. have adopted 2  and shall be put in an orphanage in Hyderabad .. their study board and lodging free till they finish School .. from the 1st to the 10th .. and if they turn out bright to provide them with free upper education .. 

.. and more , as and when the means are affordable ..

AGRANDISEMENT .. !! NO .. let it be emulated .. if each were to put in not the above but even a small drop of assistance, the severity of the situation would begin to ease .. 

It is painful to see the misery around and the inability to be able to do something for them .. 

BUT we shall fight and more than that ..  shall .. WIN ! 

So help me God .. !!

Amitabh Bachchan

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 17- Goddess

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 5586

Warnings: Slight mature content, nothing major

AN: Ya’ll have no idea how much I love this GIF of Ivar. His eye roll is literally what I imagine him doing all the time.

16- Free

...

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Steady your stance.

Pull the string.

Release the arrow.

It was a lot harder than Artemis anticipated.

She missed her target, a small, dark rabbit that fled the moment the arrow pierced into the damp earth beside it.

She sucks her teeth.

"Mm, that was better, but you still lack the patience." Ivar says to her with a chuckle. To him it was second nature, but watching Artemis with a bow was like watching a babe attempting to walk.

He sat as comfortably as he could on a chair brought by one of his many other thralls, and he watched as Artemis lowered her bow in defeat. It amused him to see her strive for perfection. It reminded him of himself when he was a child and still learning the ways of archery.

At his heels were his obedient elkhounds brought with him from Norway, eager to run wild and hunt even in the early summer heat. They were the same ones Ivar threatened her with, but that was neither here nor there.

He held one of them tightly in place with a leather strap, the other 3 pulling hard against a male thralls grip. They were beautiful things, large, with cream and black fur and large dark eyes. The hounds were adorable at first glance, but they were fierce, destroying anything in their path with ease if Ivar commanded them to.

Ivar snapped his fingers, and the wolf like dogs immediately ceased their whinning, staring up at their master with expecting eyes.

"Go." He commands, both he and the thrall letting go of the leather, the hounds instantly fled into the trees. All 4 returned with a dead rabbit in its mouth in a matter of minutes, surrounding their masters feet.

"Your hounds are show offs." Artemis pouts while Ivar grins, giving his beasts meat treats as the thrall collects the rabbits.

"Who else is to provide our dinner if you can't manage to shoot anything?" He says with a tired chuckle. His features betrayed him, revealing his discomfort from the usual pain that inflicted him daily, but it passed just as quickly as it came. He extended his arm out, palm open as an invitation for Artemis to hand over the bow.

Once securely in his hand, Ivar places his crutch to the side. He looks about slowly, listening to the sounds of the forest with his blue eyes closed and his lashes dusting over his cheekbones. Moments like these were the ones that Artemis admired the most, quickly scanning her eyes over him.

Ivar was no master of blades, but he was extremely skilled with a bow, and he almost never missed his target, Artemis had witnessed it many times when he use to train with his brothers.

Suddenly his piercing eyes fluttered open, and he silently motioned for Artemis to hand him an arrow from her quiver.

"Wha-"

"Shh."

He quickly reprimands her, putting a finger over his lips before placing the arrow in its place and stretching back the bow string as far as he could, aiming the sharp arrow towards the bright green tree tops. He stared up toward the skies for a moment in comfortable silence. Artemis would have spoken again if it weren't for the whizzing of the arrow soaring through the air at a raging velocity.

The tree tops shook a bit, and a squeal emitted from its depths before a dark shadow descended from above, falling at the foot of the large tree trunk. How Ivar had the ability to shoot down a squirrel from such a distance was beyond her, but most impressive nonetheless.

"Did you not mention your patron goddess was a huntress?" He asks with a smirk, and Artemis rolls her eyes with a snort.

"I am named after a goddess, but it does not mean I am one." Ivar shrugs, handing her back the bow.

"I like to think you are." He says, turning his blue gaze towards the familiar brown.

Artemis blinks, only able to conjure up a shy smile as she felt her cheeks burn. A strange feeling began to flutter in her lower abdomine. It was a strange feeling indeed, but she liked it, the fluttering intensifying when he bites his lips in apprehension.

"And what have you done to elicit such flattery from my brother?" Both too distracted with each other, they failed to noticed Hvitserk watching their scene, smirking at them in the way all the brother's

It was borderline infuriating.

"Shut up, Hvitserk." Ivar says with a growl, far less malicious than he wanted. He watches his hounds charge from sniffing at the green pastures to leaping towards his older brother in excitement.

"Forgive me for interrupting," Hvitserk laughs, trying to individually caress eat dog that pounced up his legs, "But the bishop has come to a decision. He wishes to speak with you."

Ivar hums nodding his head as he grabs his crutch, "Very well. Perhaps we shall gain a warrior on our side."

"Why do you wish for the bishop to fight for you?" Artemis asks quietly, cocking her head to the side in curiosity, "I thought you hated Christian's?"

"I thought so too." Hvitserk agrees, the smirk never leaving his lips.

"I suppose there are a few that aren't so bad." Ivar speaks just as quietly, his penetrating gaze lingering on her for another moment before motioning with his hands for the party to head back into the city.

...

The bishop, after being humiliated in the streets of York by the foreigners, proved himself, killing a taunting man before Ivar's very eyes and swearing allegiance to him. To sink a knife into another man's flesh and ending his life was enough to ignite Ivar, it could be seen in the way his eyes glowed.

Plans were set in motion once again, this time with King Harald Finehair, who had been a head strong ally with them thus far. The viking settlement in York would be overseen by one of Ivar's men now that the king of Northumbria was eliminated and the kingdom of Wessex weakend tremendously. Many who came with the Ragnarson's decided to stay in the Yorkish settlement, and that included Arvid and Alfhild. Artemis didn't know whether it was their decision or Ivar's, but she supposed it was for the best.

Alfhild was pregnant, perhaps a sign of their gods that their growing family should remain on English soil until their call back to Kattegat would come.

She was excited as any future mother would, rubbing her still flat belly in affection for her child to be. Arvid was pleased, though not as much as a man who truly loves his wife. There was a pride in knowing that a man could impregnate his woman, but if he could not love her, then what was the point? Arranged marriages usually ended in this way, loveless and disconnected, but it was clear Alfhild held much love for her husband who was as stubborn as mule. Arvid was a good man, but like most men, he failed in the arts of love.

The news spread rather quickly: Ivar the Boneless's slave was a woman whose life was now her own to command.

A few men saw it as an advantage to steer their eyes away from their duties. Admirers would visit to forge for idle talk, much to Artemis's annoyance, and Arvid's. Usually he'd send them away with a mouthful of curses.

Ivar remained good spirited. The leader of the largest army known to man spent whatever free time he had giving her archery lessons on days where he had the most time to spare. Normally any great leader would strain their minds on more pressing matters, but Ivar always seemed to make the time for her. She never asked for it, but she was starting to enjoy him company.

Artemis supposed life was bearable, for now. Ivar treated her well as he said he would, with a decent space in the church of her own, and she had access to as much food as she could want. After supper, she'd collect as much as she could, offering bread and fruit to the other thralls who were in far worse conditions than she’d ever been. It was the least she could do.

She spends her days in the forge with the other smith's, repairing weapons and restoring the ships, replacing the large iron nails holding the thick wood together. Her nights were held under candle light, mending and creating new chainmail.

Sometimes, her mind wandered off to her father, and whenever it did, she'd have to pause to gather herself before she could burst into tears.

The only thing she could hope for was for the dreadful weather to clear.

...

The weather never did clear.

The rains of York bombarded them. Each day the clouds grew darker and closer, bringing with them the harsh rains that soaked them to the bone. It worried some if they were to travel in a few days time in such conditions, but the men worked through it, preparing their supplies for their journey back to the north.

Ivar managed to crack the iron on the side of his brace, and Artemis spent her morning welding the split metal back together. After wiping her hands on a wet cloth, she quickly puts her cloak on with the hood over her face, running through the showers and into the church.

Inside was mostly vacant, save for a few guards that roamed about with ale in their hands as their pass time. Their eyes lingered on her for a moment, but she learned to ignore it.

The bishop sat alone with a dreary look on his face as he was clearly annoyed with the intoxicated guards. He was seated among the many rows of benches placed within, his chained hands set atop the wooden table top with a plate in between of bread and cheese.

He greets her with a nod of his head. His dirty hands worked to rip apart bread, popping them in his mouth and chewing the pieces unbecomingly. She returns the greeting, quickly making her way to Ivar's chamber.

"You will not like what you see." The bishop's smile was hidden behind a crust of bread. Her obvious confusion amused him.

"What?"

Heahmund chuckles in the way that older men do, deep and guttural. He shakes his head, ripping another piece of bread.

"I've heard many rumors of the boneless leader and his...condition," He begins, watching Artemis's mouth twitch at the corners, "Well, nevermind. I suppose you will see soon enough." Annoyed with his chatter, she stomps over to the chamber, finding the door slightly ajar.

She hesitates, before stepping in.

"Prince Ivar, I've repaired your braces as reque-" She stops, eyes wide at the scene before her. The blonde, Freydis, was completely naked and looming over a shirtless Ivar with a predatory smile. She was in the middle of kneeling, before both look towards the intrusion.

His fingers paused their skimming over the nakedness of her side, and Artemis thought it would be in her best interests to leave such an intimate sight, yet she found herself momentarily frozen in place.

"Gods, Artemis, have you no regard for privacy?" Ivar reacts quickly, pushing Freydis away roughly as he eyed Artemis with a look of...well, she didn't know what to call that look. It was strange, almost apologetic.

"F-forgive me." She stutters, placing the sack with his braces neatly into a corner before running off. She stops beside the bishop, placing a hand over her beating heart as she let's out a shuddering breath. The bishop raises a brow, watching her in amusement as she places her hands over her face in embarrassment.

"I warned you."

"Shut up." She snarls at him, dashing off into the rain without another word. The last thing she heard was Heahmund's laughter echoing after her.

She stomps into the forge, the heat of the fire mixed with rain made an uncomfortable combination of humidity and moisture, dampening her mood further.

"Did Ivar favor the repairs?" Arvid asks cautiously, raising at brow at how disheveled she looked. He was already sensing her foul mood. They were barely on speaking terms, treading softly around each other, but he knew when she was upset, and it was very obvious that she was now. He didn't want to leave her alone, but his duties were to help the other men load their wares onto the ships. He places his cloak about his shoulders, awaiting an answer.

"It was fine." She grunts, not meeting his eyes. Arvid frowns, placing on his hood.

"I am to help the others gather the supplies for departure. See to the repairs." With that he stepped out into the rain, leaving her alone with her troubling thoughts.

So what if he preferred the company of Freydis? That was no business of hers...she attempts to lecture herself.

She peels off her cloak, tossing it aside carelessly. Her hair was soaked, chunks of it across her brow and cheeks from running without her hood on.

The scene replayed in her mind over and over again. The image of Ivar's face and how his fingers lingered over Freydis's skin was seared in her mind. She wondered how his touch would feel on her own skin before scowling.

"Shit." She groans dramatically, wasting no time in busying herself pounding away at the whatever weapons needed repairs. She was glad for the distraction, as her mind raced with unholy thoughts that bolied her blood. She found comfort in the sounds of metal hitting metal, the pattering of the rain soothing her for once.

The familiar scraping of metal and the stabbing of a crutch engulfed the empty forge. She sighs, her eyes peering up at Ivar as he entered. Now fully dressed and looking very much like himself, he was certainly amused.

She glares but says nothing, looking back at the task at hand. The blade was almost new again, and with one more dip in the fire it would be complete.

"Artemis," Ivar grins, grabbing a stool to sit beside her as she worked, "I can hear your ridiculous hammering from my chambers," His smile remained, and before she could raise the hammer again to beat the sword, he curls his fingers around her wrist, halting her actions.

"Something is troubling you." He remarks, easily snatching the hammer from her hand. She rolls her eyes, placing the sword into the bucket of cold water behind her. It was finished anyway.

"I am fine. " She replies stubbornly, attempting to grab the hammer, but he successfully holds it away from her. Even sitting he was much taller then her, and he held the hammer above his head like a child stealing another's toy. Artemis scowls, not bothering to reach for it anymore.

"Why are you here?" Ivar rolled his eyes, handing her back the tool.

"I think it only right to check on the work of my blacksmith."

"Here," She says, removing the sword from the bucket to shove the blade in his face, "Here is my work. Good?" Ivar smirks, humming as he moved two of his fingers to push the blade away from him.

"She was just a whore, Artemis, a bed warmer." She gives him a sharp look, watching as his blue eyes twinkle with mirth. He was teasing her.

"So?"

"So why do you seem so upset?"

"I am not upset."

"You're a terrible liar." She scoffs, pursing her lips.

"They say you freed her. Is it true?" Ivar hesitates.

"Yes."

"I wonder what she has done to merit that," Artemis mutters, "But I suppose it is no concern of mine." She turns away from him, wanting so badly to hide her emotions.

Ivar frowns.

"Artemis, look at me." She sighs, but obeys, moving to bring her gaze back to his. He reaches a hand out, gently moving away the wet pieces of hair from her face with a chuckle. He admires her for a moment, watching her lashes flutter in nervousness. Her cheeks were flushed, and she worried her lip between her teeth.

Ivar sighs, bringing his hand back to run it down the expanse of the new braids he sported. He couldn't bring himself to admit what he was truly feeling, and neither could she. Instead he teased her, offering her a toothy grin.

"Did you want to be in Freydis's place? Did you want to be the one about to suck me off?"

There it was, the reaction he knew was to come. Her face transformed into that of an angry wolf, eyebrows arched and lips set in a line. She wanted to punch him so badly, feeling her fists curl up on instinct.

She stops herself. Still not a good idea to punch a viking prince.

She quickly grabs her cloak, removing her gloves and tossing them at Ivar before stepping out into the foul weather. She needed to think, and be away from him.

...

"So, have you done...anything with her...yet?" Hvisterk inquires, ripping the meat off a chicken bone with his teeth, chewing unceremoniously. Ivar sat quietly, picking at his food, his mind running off.

"Who?"

"You know who, " Hvitserk rolls his eyes but continues, "Because if you don't, I would not mind." He shrugs, a smile breaking out when his brother glares at him.

"You will do no such thing." Ivar growls, slamming his hands down on the wooden table top, immediately silencing the church. He looked around before motioning for everyone to continue their meals, and so the chatter began again. Hvitserk laughs, tossing the chicken bone at Ivar, who quickly swatted it out his way.

"So I see she is still yours without being yours. Tell me brother, how can you have such a brilliant mind for war, yet such ignorance towards affection?" Hvitserk wasn't much of a romantic man himself, but even he wanted to feel the tender touches of love.

"Blame these useless legs." Ivar snarls. His nose flares in annoyance, reaching out to gulp down his own ale, and once he finished it, he grabbed at Hvitserk’s. He slammed the cup down when he finished, and after a moment, he relaxes, drumming his fingers over the table top and finally meeting his brothers eyes.

"Artemis is a distraction," He begins with a hiccup, "She is a Christian."

"That cannot be the issue," Hvitserk snorts, reaching out to eat another leg of chicken, "She is educated in our ways, you saw to that. I think you're scared baby brother."

"Hvitserk," Ivar warns, "Shut. Up."

"And she is beautiful, Ivar, " He continues, lowering his tone, "You decided to free her. You know men will venture towards her like hawks. If you desire her, then claim her." He shrugs.

"She is not the type to be...claimed, Hvitserk. She is not like...Freydis." He mutters the blonde girls name as if a poison were coated on his lips. She had been so convincing, whispering in his ear all the things he wished to hear, telling him the things he was capable of, and yet it all felt so wrong. Especially seeing Artemis's eyes after that.

"What happened with that anyway? Was she any good?" Hvitserk asks, crossing his arms over the table and leaning forward with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.

"Nothing happened," Ivar hisses, "She couldn't-I couldn't," He hesitates, "Artemis walked in on us-"

"She what?" Laughter bubbled in Hvitserk's chest, and he couldn't hold back the grin, "Ivar you must be daft. You’re setting her up to fall into the arms of another! As I said, I wouldn’t mind taking her off your hands-"

"I will fight you and all the others that dare approach her!" Ivar booms, slamming his hands onto the table, raising himself up as if ready to pounce at him. He gulps down the sudden rage, his eyes blinking, noticing his men once again stop to look at him.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Hvitserk asks, far use to his brothers outbursts. Ivar exhales through his nostrils, willing himself to relax. Slowly, he lowers himself back down with a plop, his eyes following his brother as he gets up and leaves the church.

He sighs, ripping apart a loaf of bread, and shoving the piece in his mouth.

How could he feel the way he did for a Christian? He swore to the gods he would stay faithful to his people, and to be with a true northern woman, but he found himself less interested in the women faithful to his gods, and more interested in that insuffereable woman faithful to her one.

"Shit." Ivar groans, dropping his head into his hands.

He was stupid.

...

Daylight came to an end and it had continued to rain in light showers that evening when the moon began to rise into the sky. Artemis searched for a moments peace, leaving the other blacksmith's with the remaining work that needed completing.

She bid England a farewell, knowing she'd never cross the sea again to view its horizon. Although it rained as if the sky were weeping, the surrounding nature was beautiful. Maybe not as beautiful as the hills of Crete or even the mountains in Norway, but it was peaceful.

There was a little yelp behind her, and she felt light nips against her ankles. Looking down she smiles at the pup as it cocks its head at her before wagging his tail, jumping on 2 legs to balance his paws on her leg. He was small, and a bit malnourished, with cream colored fur, black floppy ears and snout.

She often gave him bits of food when she had the chance, giving the pup reason to trail after her.

She smiles, bending down to scratch him behind his ears, grateful for his company. Picking a spot on the dewy grass, she spreads her cloak over it before laying down and closing her eyes with a content sigh. The rain had finally stopped and she was grateful, breathing in the night air. The river Thames' rushing waters helped to sooth her nerves.

It had taken some time, but her anger diffused. She couldn't be angry at him anymore, it was nearly impossible. Or perhaps she was just tired.

Or stupid.

The hound went to snuggle beside her, seeking out her warmth. It must have been an eventful day for both hound and girl, but they could forget all their troubles in that moment.

"Goddess of the moon, and hounds? And perhaps of torment as well." Ivar's voice was unmistakeable. Artemis could pinpoint it in a noisy crowd if she needed to. The sound of his voice in the distance was enough to have the hound act in suspicion.

"Prince Ivar." She greets him, eyes still closed, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He slithers along the damp grass, shushing the baby hound when it moved to growl at him.

"I never thanked you for repairing my braces, so...thank you." He plops beside her, laying down with his arms behind his head.

Artemis cracks an eye open with a snort. She turns to look at him, her eyes following the line of his profile. Ivar had his long hair loose, the dark strands forming waves from his earlier hairstyle, spread over the grass. It was a look Artemis was enamored with, but would never cared to admit. He was handsome indeed.

"Something tells me that is not why you are here." She says, and he finally turns to look at her, his blue eyes hard with determination.

"I wanted to...apologize for earlier. I did not mean to tease you so." Artemis sat up, turning to peer down at Ivar with a look of disbelief.

"Prince Ivar the Boneless does not apologize."

"I am being serious."

"So am I." He huffs, turning away from her to look at the moon, bright among the stars.

"It's fine." She finally says.

"That's it? It's fine?"

"Yes. "

"I meant what I said, you know," He continues, "Freydis was only a whore to warm my bed." He could almost hear how hard she was thinking.

"It's fine," She repeats, "There is no need to explain yourself, P-"

"Ivar," He cut her off, "You may call me Ivar." She pauses, fingers passing over the pups fur.

"Ivar." She corrects with a sigh, biting her lip to fight back a smile. It was different addressing him without his title.

She plops back down against the damp grass, her eyes moving across the night sky to catch a glimpse of all the stars. There was a comfortable silence that fell between them as they looked up at the heavens.

"Do you ever wonder," Artemis begins, "About the night sky, or the moon and stars?"

"No." Ivar snorts.

"There are stories my ancestors believed of the night," She recounts, "My father use to tell them to me when I was a girl."

"We have stories too. Nótt is the night sky, Mani the moon, and one of Aurvandil's toes is that star right over there." He points up, turning with a frown when Artemis laughs.

"What's so funny?"

"A toe?"

"Yes," He grunts, "What is it you Christian's believe?"

"That God created everything, of course."

"How dull." She laughs again, rolling her body to her side, finding he was already looking at her.

"The old Greeks believed the stars were people rewarded by the gods for noble deeds." Ivar smiles through his confusion.

"I like Aurvandil's toe better."

"It's, uhh, a beautiful toe, I suppose." Ivar chuckles, leaning up on his elbows.

"Why the sudden interest in the stars?"

"It was never sudden," She says, "I would sleep under the stars everyday of my life if I could. It is a comfort to admire the beauty in this world when it can be so cruel."

"Do you think me cruel?" Ivar utters the words softly, lowering himself to face her. It was getting darker, her features hard to make out with the simple light of the moon, but there was enough to see the surprise in her eyes.

"I...I think you cruel when the moment calls for it. Because you feel you need to be." Ivar closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat. She was right.

"Cruelty wins wars. It conquers land," He pauses with a shaky breath, "But it would not win your heart." Her brows knit together in confusion.

"What?"

Ivar rolls his body closer to hers until he looms over her, maneuvering himself easily between her legs. She didn't put up a fight, though her eyes were wide with shock. He holds himself up, putting a hand atop her chest and feeling how her heart beated like drum.

"What must I do to win your heart?" She blinks up at him, debating if she should take him seriously.

"Why would you want to win my heart?" She holds his stare, their breaths puffing over each other with every timid exhale, "I thought perhaps you held the heart of another."

Ivar sucks his teeth, knowing exactly of who she meant. He dips his body lower until their chests touched and the tip of their noses brushed. His hair shields the sides of her face, cocooning her with his intense eyes. She hesitates before bringing her hands up to his chest, skimming the leather until her fingers curl over his shoulders.

"You are a foolish girl, you know that?" He chuckles, "A beautiful, yet foolish girl." He pauses, biting his lip in nervousness before gently placing his lips over hers.

Her lips were so soft, molding against his like a dance they had rehearsed over and over again. It was everything he could have hoped for, and he already begins to feel the buzz of excitement. She grips the back of his neck, bringing him closer, needing to feel his warmth. She melts into his kisses, feeling a pleasant heat engulf her.

It was...perfect.

After what felt like an eternity, their lips parted with an obscene sound, and he places his brow on hers, breathing in her scent of damp earth. Artemis brings a hand up to trace her fingers over his face, down the length of his nose, and to his jaw. She bites her lip, feeling her skin blaze like a fever.

"Do you really think me foolish?" She whispers, her eyes lingering over his lips before trailing them up to his eyes. They lit up when he smiles, crinkling at the corners.

"Did you really think she could warm my heart?" He counters.

"It was quite convincing." She mutters, "I thought perhaps I’d have to make one for you as I did your braces." She shifts her head away from his to save herself the embarrassment.

"Stop," He says gently, nudging her face back with his nose, "Do not hide from me anymore." He rolls off of her, and within a few seconds, he tugs her over him, her legs coming to rest on either side of his thighs. She grips the neckline of his leather vest to stabilize herself, and his hands sneak up to settle on her hips.

"Ivar, I-"

"Just listen to me, Artemis," She nods, resting her hands over his chest, "I was never fortunate enough to show affection as plainly as any other man could." He takes in a breath, closing his eyes as if to sum up the courage, before opening them again.

"I cannot explain it, but there is something you ignite in me that I could not ignore, no matter how hard I pleaded with the gods to make the ache in my heart stop. I can no longer ignore it." This time he turns his face away from hers, and this time, she brings him back, her palm brushing gently over his sideburn.

"Do not hide from me." She repeats his words with a smile, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. The same fluttering sensations in her abdomen from days ago resurfaced just from the simple intimate action.

"My heart aches for you." He admits, and she could feel his heart beating wildly as he said those words, his eyes swimming with...fear. She watches him carefully in silence.

"Artemis." Ivar pleads in a tone that was foreign to her ears. He was anxious.

"What of Freydis?" He sucks his teeth, lifting himself on his elbows to get a better look at her.

"If I truly wanted her, would I be wasting time revealing my heart to you?"

"I am not sure what you would do, Ivar." She admits, and he sighs, understanding her skepticism.

"I've never used her before." He mutters under his breath.

"Hmm?" Another sigh.

"I said, I've never used her...services before. Today would have been the first time." Artemis lowers herself over him, pushing him back down so that her face hovered a few inches above his.

"Are you lying?" She questions.

"No, baby bird, I am not," He smooths her over with the nickname, bringing both his hands up to grip the sides of her delicate face, her eyes suddenly glossing over.

"I did not have the strength to rid my thoughts of you. I thought perhaps she could rid them for me. For once, I was wrong." He runs the pads of his thumbs over her cheekbones, and her eyes flutter at the sensation.

There was silence for a moment as their eyes battled each others.

"You torment me." He whines.

"Not a pleasant feeling, is it?" She laughs at the pout forming on his pink lips, letting him guide her back to his lips. He nips at her lips, smiling when she moans in what was a mixture of discomfort and desire. She pulls away, panting slightly as she buried herself in the crook of his neck.

"You are not alone in your affections," She mumbles over his skin, "But I must confess that I am afraid."

"I must confess the same," He says, "Love turns even the bravest of men into cowards. I see that now." She shifts her face to skim her lips over the hot skin of his face before lifting her upper body up again.

"Hmm." She considers his words as she shifts her hips over his, watching how his eyes screwed shut, mouth falling open. She freezes, unaware of what she’d just done.

"Fuck," He growls, his fingers sinking into her hips, "How did you do that?" Her eyes widened, totally naive of her own actions.

"I-I dont know." She stutters. Ivar shifts her hips over his again, and she chokes, closing her eyes as her body trembled from the foreign sensations.

"That," Ivar moans, drinking in the sight of her own face of pleasure, "That."

She feels him growing under her, the pressure pushing up against the heat between her legs. She licks her lips, feeling a desire surge through her that she'd never experienced before.

Ivar stares up at her in wonder, chest heaving and hands twitching over her hips before pulling her down for another heated kiss. His large hands explore the expanse of her back, settling right on the dip, pushing down to follow the rhythm in which she moved.

"I've never done this before." He pants shyly over her lips, releasing another moan that seemed to vibrate through her.

"Neither have I." She pants back, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"But the rumors-"

"Forget the rumors," She interrupts him, moving back just enough to make eye contact, "You believe love is what you feel for me?"

"I do." He nods without hesitation. She throws caution to the wind, swooping down for another kiss before replying.

"Then show me."

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @rastakami23 @inforapound​ @leilabeaux @ostra814

[ginazmemeoir]

She was shelling peas in the courtyard when I arrived. On seeing me, she hurriedly wiped her hands on her white sari and walked towards me, “Naarad, please do come in.”, she said , smiling. “Narayana Narayana! When even the Pandavas  have thrown out their own mother, then what is to become of the world?” I taunted her, jangling my cymbals. Laughing, she replied, “Its called enjoying retirement. Perhaps you have never heard of it?”.

Pleased with the banter, I sat on the mat in front. It was strewn with cushions and fabrics, coloured in vibrant colours and made of exquisite silk and cotton. “Pretty cushy for retirement, isn’t it?” A shadow passed her face, but she forced a smile. Gone was the girl I had met in the forest, or the woman I had seen – this lady was someone else. A servant came and laid out some snacks and warm kahwa. I asked her with a sombre look (quite contrary to my usual handsome face), “Why have you come here?”

Her hearing that question was like me opening a dam. Her face flushed with emotion as her eyes recounted days past. “Birds yearn for the sky, not the gilded cage.” Not this again, I thought. I hate cheesy proverbs. She continued, “Living in that palace felt like living in the World of the Dead. Everywhere I looked, I saw only grief – grief that I felt I am responsible for. Gandhari couldn’t talk to me without either weeping or cursing me for the death of her sons. My daughter-in-laws avoided me, most of all Draupadi. My sons, for whom I had done everything, addressed me as the Queen Mother, no longer mother. And the people ,‘- she laughed with mirth – ‘they either saw me as the unfortunate widowed mother of their heroes, or a cunning woman who had an illegitimate child.” How fragile human lives are, I wonder – from celebrated to shunned in a single day. She however, was not finished – its like a wave of emotions is flowing from her mouth. “The truth is, Devarishi, that us women are cursed. Cursed to not show our true selves, not even to ourselves. Cursed to live our entire lives as someone’s shadow. Cursed to never live for our sake, cursed to forgo our existence when someone else dies. And when we try to step out of that shadow, when we try to live, we are ridiculed. We are called selfish and shrewd and slut. It takes great courage to step out of that shadow and face the torment of society. Look at this forest – it offers real freedom. Here I am no longer Kunti the mother or Pritha the princess. Here I am a woman, free to live as I please.”

I have finished my tea by the time she is finished. She looks happy now – relieved. I don’t have it in me to break this bliss. Sure I have started wars and made people commit homicide in the past, but I’m not that cruel. “Well I have to leave now. See you in heaven!” I leave with this cryptic message – after all it is my job to exploit loopholes.

I hide behind a cloud as he approaches. Everything stills as he enters. I carve his face in the cloud and show it to him, but he just shakes his head and goes forward. What a bore, he never had a sense of humour. He approaches her and stops. Deeming this as a good moment to show off my eavesdropping skills, I fine-tune in and listen.

“Your time has come. I have come here to take you.” says Yamaraj. Kunti’s expression goes blank as the cloud’s. “May I ask, why I’m being taken away before my time?” she asks.

“This entire forest is going to burn. All creatures living in it will perish – you are no exception.” He replies gruffly.

“Why such cruelty, O Lord of Dharma, against the creatures of this sylvan?” she dares ask again, but I see her tremble. Damn she’s a good diplomat.

“Your sons burnt a Khandava to build their empire, as you wished them victory. Today another Khandava is being burnt, and now you will be the sacrifice. This is the law of karma. However, you are the woman who bore my son; so I make an exception and spare you such a horrific end.”

Her expression changes. I then hear her thoughts (What? I am a god in my own right this is completely ethical.)

‘Is it you Surya, Lord of the Sun, angry that I wronged your son? Or is it you Indra, King of the gods, happy with your son’s victory but bound by your word to his enemy, who thirsts for revenge? Or can it be Agni, also angry that my house tarnished your daughter’s honour?’

Her thoughts stop there. I can no longer access them. Instead, I feel a sense of calm and peace.

“No” she replies, “I will not come with you.” Is her reply to Yama.

“You cannot escape death.” He replies irritably.

“Who said anything about death? I want to die in this forest, engulfed by fire. I had burnt a woman and her five children alive in a forest to save me and my children – it won’t be fair to her if now I escape the same fate. I want this fire to burn all my sins away. I want to experience its magnetic heat and energy – how each woman yearns for his protection. Vedavati burnt herself rather than be touched by Ravana. Sita had to take him as witness to confirm her purity. Amba engulfed herself in him to exact her revenge in her rebirth. My own daughter-in-law is his daughter, just as feisty and proud.”

“I want to feel it coursing over my body, feel its heat cocoon me. In return I ask only one thing of you – to spare the others in this forest from the punishment of my sins.”

I could see Yama was impressed – and he was a tough guy to please. I on the other hand was shocked – what sane person in their sane mind would prefer being burnt to death? But then maybe this is the forest’s sorcery, making even rabbits wrestle lions.

“I am pleased by your perseverance Pritha. In return, I grant all creatures in this forest my favour just this once. You, however will melt in fire like butter. Your end shall be painless.”

Saying so he left, perhaps to terrify some other human with his mean buffalo.

Kunti stood there, as silent as stone. She looked happy and relieved to leave her human form behind. Perhaps the old cow has finally gone mad, for who wouldn’t want to be a human?

I flew away, whipping past clouds. It was time to gossip.

[ktheist]

thirteen.

chapters:  12 / 13 / 14

knight!jungkook x princess!reader

x

It’s a silent exchange.

The young guard does not say a word when he bows and unlocks the door to your knight’s sell. You nod in acknowledgement despite knowing his head is kept too low to see it, hand outstretched for the bags of shillings. It’s an established routine at this point.

“Can you smell the roses?” His back is on you, facing the minute window just inches from the ceiling, as though he could see what was beyond the pitch black of the night and the patches of grey in the scar.

The journey to the tower is lonelier than usual. The moon smiles behind dark clouds but the stars bear witness to your nightly schemes. Somewhere along the way, you pass the garden. Indeed, the roses are in full bloom.

“They’re not as pretty as the ones back home,” you set the basket of bread on the wooden bed, joining him on the ground.

He shrugs, a wistful smile on his lips as you wonder if he remembers what home is as the memory fades away for you with each passing day. That’s not to say you have more time to admire the gardens at home than you do here. A different kind of affair occupies your time. You’ve set foot in the village a few days ago; that’s more freedom you get than you first arrived.

The villagers were... tolerable for the most part. You don’t expect to run around in a circle with the maidens and sing hymns of peace when the aftermath of the war is still a fresh wound to most of them. Losing your face with a rotten tomato and eggs in your hair is something not too far off your imagination when you decide to step out of the castle’s gates.

“I heard she offered herself to the prince once she realized she’s losing. And now, she’s pregnant with Prince Taehyung’s heir. That’s the only reason for the royal marriage.”

“So it’s true. Didn’t her mother, the current Queen of her kingdom, come from a lowly noble family who enchanted her way into the King’s heart?”

That was when you heard a crack! against the back of your head.

“Go back to where you come from, whore!”

“Murderer! My brother died in the war because of you!”

“You will never be our Queen!”

The onslaught of rotten food being thrown at you only increased from then. Your face was bruise-free but you couldn’t say the same for your arms that you used to shield your face. The evening stroll turned to a run when you had to rush away from the town, having chosen to go by foot instead of a carriage that you could have escaped into.

“Who did this?” Taehyung’s heated demand reverberates against the walls of the dining hall when you showed up to dinner with a scarf around your head because Eunha was shaking while she washed your hair in fear for losing her job if she didn’t finish in time; she didn’t but you promised she was your maid and the only one who can fire her was you which you’d never do over uncleaned hair. He easily put two and two together having been the prince and someone who likes to stick his nose where he shouldn’t,“who dares commit a crime against the royal family?”

“Oh, sit down, son.” You were sure the Queen rolled her eyes at her son’s dramatic exclamation before feeding a piece of well-sliced steak into her mouth.

Taehyung’s reaction took you off guard but it’s easy to brush it off as an act of pride. Those who dared insult the Princess insulted the royal family as a whole. Not paying much heed to his extended inquiries in the bedroom, you disregarded his presence with a short, “it’s been a long day, your highness. I shall have my hot bath and rest.”

Your maid had picked up where she left off with your hair. It wasn’t too much work so she proceeded to massage your shoulders while you almost fell asleep in the tub.

By the time you thanked Eunha for her effort (to which she hurriedly credited it to her line of work), Taehyung was snoring softly beneath the sheets. He’s been getting better at doing whatever he wanted since Jungkook’s absence. You held your breath as the flickering candle that colored part of his unclothed chest a golden tan when you went to blow it off next to him.

It was a risk but you hadn’t seen Jungkook for five days, thus you deemed it a risk worth taking as you tip toed out of your chamber, cloaked in a black robe that assists you more than once to blend in with the shadows when you come across with the patrols.

Jungkook inhales the baked goods with zeal. Perhaps, this was the closest he’s been as a commoner if he hadn’t lead a vengeful life.

He brings a piece to your mouth, thumb lingering on your bottom lip a tad longer before his gaze makes you hot and shy all at once.

“Have you been trying to burn the royal kitchen?” He smirks, revealing the egg shell he picked from your hair.

“I went to the village nearest to the castle,” you swipe the shell piece off his hands and throw it behind you, “which is safer than trying to cook, thank you for worrying about the kitchen.”

“Doesn’t explain why you have egg shell in your hair,” he sets the bread on top of the mountain of pastries in the basket, shifting so his upper body is facing you.

You stay quiet, smiling at him somberly. It would do no good to burden him with the knowledge of the people - now, your people - and how they welcomed you but if you lied, he could see through it.

“They threw eggs at you,” his words are laced with a sort of venom that you’re no stranger to, if anything it reminds you of home, how within the walls of the castle you grew up in, Jungkook had sworn to protect but most of all, to kill those who dared came in your way.

“I’m not hurt,” you clarify as he cups your cheeks in inspection, “it’s my favorite dress being ruined that puts a bump on the evening.”

At that, Jungkook finally relents. Hands dropped onto your lap, caressing yours, he comments on your interest in dresses and the newfound information that you have a favorite.

“Besides the concerns of the citizens that Lord Park allowed me handle, there’s not much to do besides admiring the types of lace on a dress.”

Rueful silence hangs in the air for half a minute before Jungkook speaks again, “at least the crown treats you fairly well.”

“The crown is kind because I am of use to it,” you’re aware that your voice is shaking but you keep your gaze firm.

This silence is different yet telling. The kind of silence that doesn’t need you begging for a change, for an escape. You’ve known then and you know now but there’s a part of you, one that longs for freedom and a life without the chains of the blue in your blood.

Jungkook is the first to break eye contact this time. Those eyes that have always looked straight at you, peeled the deepest layer of you, has turned away from you. It doesn’t show - you make sure the hurt doesn’t show across your face.

“It is a duty to borne by every Queen,” he slowly speaks as if it isn’t a cruel expectation set by your predecessors.

“Is that all women are good for?” Oh, no. This isn’t good. The first tear wets your left cheek before another falls on the other, “to... to...”

The words gets choked in your throat. Just like the night you watched the flicker of flames licking the houses of the villagers, you try to push him away until you tire yourself. Jungkook’s arms are strong yet gentle as ever.

He holds you closest tonight and touches you softly. But his words are sparse. Jungkook never showers you with sugar coated words just to ease your heart. He says it for what it is or not at all for you are no fool and you of all people know what morning has in store.

x

“Your highness!” Eunha burst into the room with a couple of maids trailing behind her. They’re carrying trays of your breakfast.

When she saw Yerin, your recently appointed lady-in-waiting, was doing your hair, her head drops almost instantly as though coming face-to-face with her was a great sin. Yerin is part of the higher noble family. At some point, you heard from your resourceful maid, that she was to be paired with Taehyung who is now your husband. To serve the woman who she must have seen stolen her place was one thing, but you were understood that her father, a high ranking officer, had been maimed from the war and the family income had gone to treating his injury. That was why she volunteered to be a lady-in-waiting. 

Naturally, she wouldn’t like Eunha or any commoner worker that acted familiar with you, the enemy-princess-turned-wife to the Prince. You dismiss Yerin as soon as she’s done with your hair, telling her that you would be in the office the King set up for your personal affair as you were more involved with the affairs of the kingdom, so you wouldn’t need the usual over-the-top royalty appearance.

“Your highness, have you heard?” Eunha is by your side in no time along with the other two maids.

You take a sip of the tea. It’s catered precisely to your liking. Sweet but not overly sweet.

“Certainly, I haven’t.”

“Prince Taehyung sent guards to the village. They carried away those suspected of disrespecting you yesterday!” She clasps her hand to her chest as she stares at you with stars in her eyes.

“Does he intend to punish them?” You set the teacup back on its causer with a sharp click that seems to have resonated through the maids’ growing gushes. 

The breakfast remains untouched when you get up from the gold-encrusted armchair. You barely remember the maids leaping to their feet and dipping into a bow as you exit through the door.

x

You intersect Taehyung at the fountain. He waves his personal knight off as you approach, the conversation before you arrive too low for you to catch.

“To what do I owe this honor to/.” he acknowledges but without the smirk. You’ve seen glimpses of this side of him, mostly when he chooses to disregard your presence or have a more important matter to attend to.

“The commoners you had the guards force out of their homes,” the voice you use is smooth but the tightness of your face is not concealable, “what do you plan to do to them?”

“Do you not have your own work to do?” He’s referring to the concerns of the citizens. It was part of the Queen’s duties to listen to them but Lord Park had managed to convince the King to delegate some of the work to you.

If the Queen felt threatened by your taking over some of her work, she didn’t show. The curt dismissive tone she used to make her son shut up could mean anything. She might have truly felt irritated over the fuss made by her son over you.

“It couldn’t be that you missed me so much that you came all the way here just to see me,” there it is. The smirk. The silence you choose over entertaining his retort has invited another one, “I heard you spent the night at one of the maid’s rooms last night. You can’t run forever.”

At that, something stirs deep inside of you but you don’t allow your face to display more than what is already in the open. That doesn’t mean you don’t, all of a sudden, want to slap that smirk off his face.

“I don’t know what you are planning, your highness but the cruelty you show towards your people will not be beneficial for you,” his lips twitch but that’s it, so you go on, “keep in mind that Lord Min, your cousin has a claim over the throne. I pray that no revolt rises to roll you over. It will be an inconvenience for me.”

The last part is the truest. If he is ruined, if the people has had enough and knew of the recluse cousin of the Crown Prince and a chance for a kinder monarch, then you’d be ruined too. 

“I shall take my leave, your highness.” You brush past his speechless figure. Whether the guards or maids who were around chooses to relay the lack of court etiquette displayed to the Prince, you have no control over it. But after the complete drop of the Prince’s smirk, you’re sure that you’ve gained what you came here to do.

x

Tonight, it’s safe for you sneak out of your chambers, hood cloaked around your body and a maid’s outfit underneath. Eunha had willingly lend it to you when you told her that you wished to step out of the palace’s walls without having eggs thrown at you. Or at least without anyone realizing the pearls and diamonds hanging off your dress screamed royalty.

...or so you thought.

Your body turns to ice at the figure standing in front of you. Unlike you, he didn’t look like he was caught red-handed though the wide eyes tells you he is surprised.

“You -”

His long strides takes him to you faster than you manage to get out any words past that. With a hand cupped on your mouth, he pulls you into a corridor and presses himself into the shadow. The only part of you that is visible is your ankle which you have no other space to squeeze it with the way the light slants across the tiny space.

The sound of footsteps causes you to involuntarily clutch his sleeve until they’re gone. You breathe out in relief only to have the goosebumps return at the sharp, accusing look peering down at you. With only the light from the flames burning behind you, the tug on his lips appear more sinister than it should.

“Look who lost her way.”

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

21st November >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Saturday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

    or

The Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Saturday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the feria (Saturday))

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Apocalypse 11:4-12 

The prophets will die who have been a plague to the world

I, John, heard a voice saying: ‘These, my two witnesses, are the two olive trees and the two lamps that stand before the Lord of the world. Fire can come from their mouths and consume their enemies if anyone tries to harm them; and if anybody does try to harm them he will certainly be killed in this way. They are able to lock up the sky so that it does not rain as long as they are prophesying; they are able to turn water into blood and strike the whole world with any plague as often as they like. When they have completed their witnessing, the beast that comes out of the Abyss is going to make war on them and overcome them and kill them. Their corpses will lie in the main street of the Great City known by the symbolic names Sodom and Egypt, in which their Lord was crucified. Men out of every people, race, language and nation will stare at their corpses, for three-and-a-half days, not letting them be buried, and the people of the world will be glad about it and celebrate the event by giving presents to each other, because these two prophets have been a plague to the people of the world.’    After the three-and-a-half days, God breathed life into them and they stood up, and everybody who saw it happen was terrified; then they heard a loud voice from heaven say to them, ‘Come up here’, and while their enemies were watching, they went up to heaven in a cloud.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 143(144):1-2,9-10

R/ Blessed be the Lord, my rock.

Blessed be the Lord, my rock,    who trains my arms for battle,    who prepares my hands for war.

R/ Blessed be the Lord, my rock.

He is my love, my fortress;    he is my stronghold, my saviour my shield, my place of refuge.    He brings peoples under my rule.

R/ Blessed be the Lord, my rock.

To you, O God, will I sing a new song;    I will play on the ten-stringed lute to you who give kings their victory,    who set David your servant free.

R/ Blessed be the Lord, my rock.

Gospel Acclamation

cf. Luke 8:15

Alleluia, alleluia! Blessed are those who, with a noble and generous heart, take the word of God to themselves and yield a harvest through their perseverance. Alleluia!

Or:

cf. 2 Timothy 1:10

Alleluia, alleluia! Our Saviour Jesus Christ abolished death and he has proclaimed life through the Good News. Alleluia!

Gospel

Luke 20:27-40

In God all men are alive

Some Sadducees – those who say that there is no resurrection – approached Jesus and they put this question to him, ‘Master, we have it from Moses in writing, that if a man’s married brother dies childless, the man must marry the widow to raise up children for his brother. Well then, there were seven brothers. The first, having married a wife, died childless. The second and then the third married the widow. And the same with all seven, they died leaving no children. Finally the woman herself died. Now, at the resurrection, to which of them will she be wife since she had been married to all seven?’    Jesus replied, ‘The children of this world take wives and husbands, but those who are judged worthy of a place in the other world and in the resurrection from the dead do not marry because they can no longer die, for they are the same as the angels, and being children of the resurrection they are sons of God. And Moses himself implies that the dead rise again, in the passage about the bush where he calls the Lord the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob. Now he is God, not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all men are in fact alive.’    Some scribes then spoke up. ‘Well put, Master’ they said – because they would not dare to ask him any more questions.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

(For practical reasons, the readings at Mass are relatively short while the First Readings in the Office of Readings are longer. Here, for your private study, are passages from the Office of Readings that contain the readings you have just heard at Mass)

Apocalypse 11:1-19

The two invincible witnesses

I was given a long cane as a measuring rod, and I was told, ‘Go and measure God’s sanctuary, and the altar, and the people who worship there; but leave out the outer court and do not measure it, because it has been handed over to pagans – they will trample on the holy city for forty-two months. But I shall send my two witnesses to prophesy for those twelve hundred and sixty days, wearing sackcloth. These are the two olive trees and the two lamps that stand before the Lord of the world. Fire can come from their mouths and consume their enemies if anyone tries to harm them; and if anybody does try to harm them he will certainly be killed in this way. They are able to lock up the sky so that it does not rain as long as they are prophesying; they are able to turn water into blood and strike the whole world with any plague as often as they like. When they have completed their witnessing, the beast that comes out of the Abyss is going to make war on them and overcome them and kill them. Their corpses will lie in the main street of the Great City known by the symbolic names Sodom and Egypt, in which their Lord was crucified. Men out of every people, race, language and nation will stare at their corpses, for three-and-a-half days, not letting them be buried, and the people of the world will be glad about it and celebrate the event by giving presents to each other, because these two prophets have been a plague to the people of the world.’    After the three-and-a-half days, God breathed life into them and they stood up, and everybody who saw it happen was terrified; then they heard a loud voice from heaven say to them, ‘Come up here’, and while their enemies were watching, they went up to heaven in a cloud. Immediately, there was a violent earthquake, and a tenth of the city collapsed; seven thousand persons were killed in the earthquake, and the survivors, overcome with fear, could only praise the God of heaven.    That was the second of the troubles; the third is to come quickly after it.    Then the seventh angel blew his trumpet, and voices could be heard shouting in heaven, calling, ‘The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and his Christ, and he will reign for ever and ever.’ The twenty-four elders, enthroned in the presence of God, prostrated themselves and touched the ground with their foreheads worshipping God with these words, ‘We give thanks to you, Almighty Lord God, He-Is-and-He-Was, for using your great power and beginning your reign. The nations were seething with rage and now the time has come for your own anger, and for the dead to be judged, and for your servants the prophets, for the saints and for all who worship you, small or great, to be rewarded. The time has come to destroy those who are destroying the earth.’    Then the sanctuary of God in heaven opened and the ark of the covenant could be seen inside it. Then came flashes of lightning, peals of thunder and an earthquake, and violent hail.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Zechariah 2:14-17

'I am coming', says the Lord

Sing, rejoice, daughter of Zion; for I am coming to dwell in the middle of you – it is the Lord who speaks. Many nations will join the Lord, on that day; they will become his people. But he will remain among you, and you will know that the Lord of Hosts has sent me to you. But the Lord will hold Judah as his portion in the Holy Land, and again make Jerusalem his very own. Let all mankind be silent before the Lord! For he is awaking and is coming from his holy dwelling.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Luke 1:46-55

R/ The Almighty works marvels for me. Holy is his name!     or R/ Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who bore the Son of the eternal Father.

My soul glorifies the Lord,    my spirit rejoices in God, my Saviour.

R/ The Almighty works marvels for me. Holy is his name!     or R/ Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who bore the Son of the eternal Father.

He looks on his servant in her nothingness;    henceforth all ages will call me blessed. The Almighty works marvels for me.    Holy his name!

R/ The Almighty works marvels for me. Holy is his name!     or R/ Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who bore the Son of the eternal Father.

His mercy is from age to age,    on those who fear him. He puts forth his arm in strength    and scatters the proud-hearted.

R/ The Almighty works marvels for me. Holy is his name!     or R/ Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who bore the Son of the eternal Father.

He casts the mighty from their thrones    and raises the lowly. He fills the starving with good things,    sends the rich away empty.

R/ The Almighty works marvels for me. Holy is his name!     or R/ Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who bore the Son of the eternal Father.

He protects Israel, his servant,    remembering his mercy, the mercy promised to our fathers,    to Abraham and his sons for ever.

R/ The Almighty works marvels for me. Holy is his name!     or R/ Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who bore the Son of the eternal Father.

Gospel Acclamation

Luke 11:28

Alleluia, alleluia! Happy are those who hear the word of God and keep it. Alleluia!

Gospel

Matthew 12:46-50

My mother and my brothers are anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven

Jesus was speaking to the crowds when his mother and his brothers appeared; they were standing outside and were anxious to have a word with him. But to the man who told him this Jesus replied, ‘Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?’ And stretching out his hand towards his disciples he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers. Anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven, he is my brother and sister and mother.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

(For practical reasons, the readings at Mass are relatively short while the First Readings in the Office of Readings are longer. Here, for your private study, are passages from the Office of Readings that contain the readings you have just heard at Mass)

Zechariah 2:5-17

An exhortation to exiles

Raising my eyes, I saw a vision. It was this: there was a man with a measuring line in his hand. I asked him, ‘Where are you going?’ He said, ‘To measure Jerusalem, to find out her breadth and her length.’ And then, while the angel who was talking to me stood still, another angel came forward to meet him. He said to him, ‘Run, and tell that young man this, “Jerusalem is to remain unwalled, because of the great number of men and cattle there will be in her. But I – it is the Lord who speaks – I will be a wall of fire for her all round her, and I will be her glory in the midst of her.”’

Up, up, and leave the land of the North (it is the Lord who speaks)! (For to the four winds of heaven I have scattered you – it is the Lord who speaks.) Zion, up! Dweller in Babylon, flee! For the Lord of Hosts says this (he whose glory has sent me here) as regards the nations who despoiled you (for whoever touches you touches the apple of my eye): See now, I raise my hand over them, for them to be plunder for their slaves. (And you will know that the Lord of Hosts has sent me.)

Sing, rejoice, daughter of Zion; for I am coming to dwell in the middle of you – it is the Lord who speaks.

Many nations will join the Lord, on that day; they will become his people. (But he will remain among you, and you will know that the Lord of Hosts has sent me to you.)

But the Lord will hold Judah as his portion in the Holy Land, and again make Jerusalem his very own.

Let all mankind be silent before the Lord! For he is awaking and is coming from his holy dwelling.

[softupshur]

The Lord Rejoices: Chapter 21

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Ao3 link if you’re into that kind of thing

~Updates every Sunday~

During Temple Gate’s founding years, Marta nears womanhood and wonders of God’s plan for her.

*This is my personal favorite chapter and probably the whole reason this fic came to existence so hope you all like this one!*

Chapter 21:

Knoth asked Marta to lock the chapel doors behind them, which she did without question. They went straight to the chamber. Knoth didn’t bother to knock before unlocking the door and throwing it open.

Otis lay still on the floor aside from labored, hoarse breathing.

“Get up,” Knoth snapped.

He did not stir aside from opening his foggy eyes. “What is it?”

“A time to rejoice. Your day of redemption has come,” but Knoth’s voice was joyless when he held out a hand for Otis, who refused it in order to stand on his own.

“Come,” Knoth started down the hall, too fast for Otis to keep up.

Marta lagged behind to walk alongside Otis. Several times, she stopped so he could catch up. Their eyes met only once. The sun shone through the tall windows in the main hall, making Otis shudder. He squinted as his eyes contracted in the light. Leaning limp against a wall, he waited for his vision to adjust, but Marta called his name before it could.

Dragging his feet, he brought himself before Knoth.

“Kneel before the cross,” he ordered.

Otis did as told and bowed his head in prayer to accept Knoth’s blessing, all done with smoothness, as if they had gone through the ritual a hundred times before.

“I must commend your strength, my child,” Knoth started, “For you have endured so much that many a time I feared your flesh would fail you, but here you remain. God has blessed you with great tenacity, yet you throw it away in vain.” He sighed and knelt on one knee so he could meet Otis’s gaze. “Aren’t you tired?” His voice softened. “You must realize that you walk down the path that leads to ruin. I have only wanted to help you through all this time, yet you push me away and bring upon this suffering. Let me take the burden from you. Rest, go home to your wife and child, forget the pain. All I am asking is that you accept me as your prophet. Let the gospel guide your way, and there shall be peace for you.”

Otis’s gaze fell to avoid Knoth’s eye. For a long while, he said nothing. The whole period of silence, Marta held her breath. She released it only when he muttered, “I can’t…”

Knoth’s mouth formed a line. He stood, shaking his head. “Then there is nothing more I can do for you.” He left Otis where he was and placed a hand on Marta’s arm. “Give him rest, child.”

“What?” Marta stared at him in disbelief, but Knoth motioned her towards Otis.

“To continue as he is would only bring grief to himself and all around him. The time has come to end his suffering.”

Marta’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…?”

He nodded when she couldn’t finish her thought. “I do. You are ready and we are left with no other choice.”

“That can’t be,” Marta staggered back, shaking her head as if she could dispel the order. Her stomach curled in on itself. “There must be another way!”

“But there isn’t,” Knoth said. “He has denied the Lord in our midst, committed the greatest sin of all, and we are witness to this. If he cannot repent, there is no place for him in Temple Gate.”

“He just needs a little more time!” Marta’s voice swayed. “I know his sins are great and numerous, but he is not a bad person.”

“More time? How much more do you ask for?” Knoth winced. “He’s been in this state for longer than would be possible without the Lord’s grace. I have offered him patience and grace so he may redeem himself, but he still turns his face from me, from God! None but He can save his soul now! It is the Lord who shall show mercy on the boy. For we have done all we can.”

“But he’s my friend,” Marta uttered.

Knoth rubbed his temple. “The enemy does not always come to us with its teeth gnashing and nostrils flared. Many times it wears the mask of goodness, only showing its true form when it is too late and all in its path has been devoured.”

“But—”

“Marta,” Though he spoke calmly, his face went a shade redder while guiding her to Otis. “Look at him. Do you think any man of faith and good sense would bring himself to this state? It is all of his own doing and if he lives on without correction, he becomes a plague to himself and to us. It will fester and infect all those who know him. Do not let this be what destroys all we have worked for, all we have suffered through. End it now. Give him peace and clear your conscience to see it done.”

She stared at Otis as Knoth spoke to her. His skin had gone white and chalky and bones nearly jut out. Hair that was once thick had gone scraggly and thin. His wheezing breath rang in Marta’s ears as she stepped towards him. When he was within an arm’s reach of her, she took out the knife that never left her since its gifting. She looked up slightly to avoid his clouded-over eyes as she raised the blade, her arm shaking.

“Marta, please.” Otis could barely speak above a whisper now. “Don’t do this. I don’t want to die. Not like this.”

Staggering back, Marta lowered the blade. “I can’t do it.”

“What?” Knoth’s voice dropped. “What in God’s name is holding you back?”

Marta turned her back to Knoth. “I can’t do it. This is all too much.”

“The Enemy does not think on what is too much or too little! Your sentiment is blinding you to the truth right before your eyes! You will find no peace until you fulfill your God-given duty! Do it! Not just for your town, but for your sake! Make the cut quick if you so wish, but purge us of this evil at our doorstep!”

Marta hunched over, retreating further into herself. “I need more time.”

“Time is not something we have.” Knoth gripped her arms. He looked up at her when she attempted to stare at the floor. “Marta, my dearest, do this for me. There is none other I can trust as you. I need you to do this.”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Marta seethed, fists clenched.

“Excuse me?” Knoth stared as if he misheard her.

“You heard me. You do it.” She tore herself from his grasp and held out the knife to him. “You’re God’s holy man. Defend your town.”

“Marta, if you don’t silence yourself this instant—”

“Do it! Take the blade and save us from The Enemy!”

Knoth’s jaw dropped. “How dare you speak to me this way? After all I’ve done for you, all we’ve been through, and you have the audacity to shirk God’s duty.”

Marta reclaimed her weapon and stood straight, looming over Knoth. “I never wanted any of this! You’re the one who made me kill in your name! It was you who asked this of me!”

“I asked you in God’s stead!”

“Then go and tell God I need more time! How is that such a sin!? Why can’t you be patient with me when you won’t even do it yourself?!”

“You think I haven’t been patient with you?” He came forward. “I have been nothing but patient with you. I raised you as my own when they took your mother away. I gave you a childhood. I was even kind enough to wait for a sign before telling you of God’s plan!”

“That sign was an accident and you know it!”

“What I know of is God’s will for you, which you so callously deny!”

“It’s not God’s will I deny, it’s yours!”

Knoth’s face went red. “You speak heresy, child. My will is His will!”

“Then prove it! Lock me away and starve me like him!” She pointed to Otis, who never took his eyes from them. “Have God strike me down where I stand! Prove to me you are God’s chosen man! For I will not kill in vain!”

Marta waited for lightning to crash through the chapel and destroy her, but there was only a tight grip on her wrist. Knoth yanked hard enough to make her follow. “All these years I have spared the rod and spoiled the child. Mark my word, I will make that mistake no more. By the time I am through with you, never again will you question what I am to you.”

He hadn’t gone two steps before Marta pulled herself free. “Don’t touch me.”

“You insolent…” He reached for her again, but she shoved him with enough force to knock him off his feet. When he tried to get back up, the knife was pointed at his throat.

“Don’t you ever touch me.” She held the blade strong. “Not after everything you’ve done.”

Knoth paled as he held up his hands. Attempts to keep his voice steady proved in vain. “Now...now Marta, I know you’re upset. You’re...you’re confused and scared, and lashing out, but please, calm yourself and listen—”

“No! This time you’re going to listen to me!” She came so close that the tip of the blade met Knoth’s throat. “All my life I listened to you and it brought me nothing but grief! Don’t you realize everything I’ve done for you!? Everything I gave up!? I abandoned my own mother for you! I can barely remember her face, but I know she must have loved me because she wept when she was taken from me! Still, I chose you because I thought God’s love must be greater than any other! I did everything you asked and not once did I complain! Not when you brought us to the wilderness! Not when I starved for your sake! Not even when you drove me from people who cared until there was none left but you! Even when I doubted you, I followed your word! I read your gospel! I obeyed your teachings and I would have continued to do so! When I bled, I prepared myself to marry like every other woman, and to make your line a nation just like I was supposed to! I would have even married you if you had only asked! I waited and readied, yet you left me in the dark when all I ever wanted was to do right by you! Everything I did, everything I endured, all that I am is because of you, for you! There is no faith greater than that which I gave to you, yet you still ask me to prove it in blood! Why!? Why wasn’t all that I am already enough for you!?”

“Marta?” He had not spoken so softly since she was a child. She dropped the knife.

“I…” She could feel Knoth and Otis’s eyes on her. She watched Knoth rise to his feet, but when he reached out to her, she ran, leaving him and the blade behind.

[giftofshewbread]

The Power of God

By Daymond Duck   Published on:March 14, 2021

Before I get started, I have read several articles lately that said Microsoft Outlook’s e-mail system had been hacked.

I have also received calls and e-mails from people saying they received an e-mail from me that they could not open.

I answer lots of e-mails every day, but I did not send the e-mails in question, and I do not know how to stop that from happening. (I advise everyone not to open an e-mail from me unless you are reasonably sure that I sent it.)

Moving on, in one of the most famous passages of Scripture, Paul said, “the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive shall be caught up [Raptured] together with them in the clouds” (I Thess. 4:16-17).

Here are some Scriptures about the resurrection of the dead:

Jesus was raised from the dead according to the Scriptures. Paul said, “For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures” (I Cor. 15:3-4).

Job believed God would raise him with a new body. He said, “And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another; though my reins be consumed within me” (Job 19:26-27).

Abraham believed God would raise Isaac from the dead. He took Isaac to Mount Moriah to kill him as a sacrifice, and when he got close, he told those that were with him, “I and the lad will go yonder and worship, and come again to you” (Gen. 22:5). The writer of Hebrews said Abraham was willing to sacrifice Isaac because he believed “that God was able to raise him (Isaac) up, even from the dead” (Heb. 11:17-19).

Joseph probably believed God would raise him from the dead because he wanted his bones to be buried in Israel, so “Moses took the bones of Joseph with him: for he [Joseph] had straitly sworn the children of Israel, saying, God will surely visit you; and ye shall carry up my bones away hence with you” (Ex. 13:19).

David believed in the resurrection of the dead. He said, “my flesh also shall rest in hope. For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell; neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption” (Psa. 16:9-10). Peter said, “He [David] seeing this before spake of the resurrection of Christ, that his soul was not left in hell, neither his flesh did see corruption. This Jesus hath God raised up, whereof we all are witnesses” (Acts 2:31-32).

Isaiah believed God will raise the dead. Concerning Israel, he said, “Thy dead men shall live, together with my dead body shall they arise” (Isa. 26:19).

Hosea believed God will bring people out of the grave. He quoted God as saying, “I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death: O death, I will be thy plagues; O grave, I will be thy destruction: repentance shall be hid from mine eyes” (Hos. 13:14; see also I Cor. 15:55-57).

Daniel believed in the resurrection of the body. He said, “And many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt” (Dan. 12:2).

Jesus taught that the dead will be raised. He said, “Marvel not at this: for the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice, And shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation” (Jn. 5:28-29).

Matthew said many people were raised from the dead when Jesus was raised. “And the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept arose, And came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many” (Matt. 27:52-53).

Paul said he and many others saw the resurrected Jesus. “He [Jesus] was seen of Cephas, then of the twelve: After that, he was seen of above five hundred brethren at once; of whom the greater part remain unto this present, but some are fallen asleep. After that, he was seen of James; then of all the apostles. And last of all he was seen of me also, as of one born out of due time (I Cor. 15:5-8).

Those that do not believe in the resurrection and Rapture err because they do not know the Scriptures or the power of God (Matt. 22:29).

One, on May 29, 2020, Pres. Trump withdrew the U.S. from the World Health Organization (WHO) and stopped U.S. funding.

Leaked secret WHO documents show that the WHO believed China was covering up its involvement in the spread of Covid.

Trump accused the WHO of cooperating with the coverup.

Trump said the WHO was receiving about $450 million dollars a year from the U.S., about $40 million dollars a year from China, and the WHO was acting as a spokesperson for the Chinese government.

On Mar. 3, 2021, it was reported that the Biden administration has just sent $200 million to the WHO despite the fact that neither the WHO nor China has done anything to punish those that helped spread Covid.

Biden is reversing Trump’s withdrawal from the coming world government.

Two, concerning the coming global economic collapse: Biden killed more than 11,000 jobs when he stopped construction on the Keystone Pipeline; the U.S. Chamber of Commerce believes he will kill about 6.5 million more jobs with his reentry into the Paris Climate Change Accords; the new Congressional Covid Relief bill will pay cities and states to keep the lockdowns going (more lost jobs); his open border with Mexico is allowing thousands of unemployed people to enter the U.S. (free healthcare, free vaccinations, free food, free travel, stimulus checks, etc.); the cost of food and gasoline for legal citizens is rising; and America’s debt is approaching the $28 trillion mark.

Some financial analysts say the markets are showing signs of alarm over inflation, but Biden’s Treasury Sec. says she knows how to handle it.

World government, famine and economic collapse are coming (but the Rapture comes first).

Three, concerning the latter years and latter days Battle of Gog and Magog, in the last 2 weeks:

A Libyan oil tanker named the Emerald dumped an estimated 150 or more tons of tar and contaminated waste into the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Israel that polluted more than 90 miles of Israeli shoreline. A two-week investigation concluded that the Libyan tanker originated in Iran, was destined for Syria, and the pollutants were deliberately dumped near Israel.

There was an explosion on both sides of an Israeli-owned cargo ship coming out of Saudi Arabia in the Gulf of Oman. The ship and cargo were damaged, but the ship did not sink. Israel blamed the explosions on Iran.

An Iranian-backed militia in Iraq fired at least 10 rockets at a U.S. base in Iraq that killed a U.S. citizen.

Iranian-backed Houthis fired rockets at Saudi Arabia almost every day.

Iran threatened to destroy Tel Aviv and Haifa in Israel if Israel attacks Iran’s nuclear facilities.

Iran appears to be getting more aggressive since Biden took office.

Four, concerning a departing from the faith and apostasy: in Feb. 2019, Pope Francis announced plans to build the “Abrahamic Family House” in Abu Dhabi.

The “Abrahamic Family House” will have a Church, a Synagogue, and a Mosque (separate places of worship for Christians, Jews and Muslims), and it will have a fourth place for people of all religions to come together as one body.

Readers should know that many prophecy teachers (including this writer) believe the Bible teaches that a godless world religion will be located at the site of the ancient city of Babylon at the end of the age (Zech. 5:1-11; Rev. 17-18)).

On Mar. 6, 2021, Pope Frances was in Iraq (the only Pope to ever visit the land of Babylon, the cradle of civilization.).

The purpose of his trip is to promote peace, coexistence, and brotherhood among all religions.

He spoke to Christians, Muslims, and Jews at the ancient city of Ur (original home of Abraham before God called him to move to Israel).

Francis prayed for peace, but there was no mention of Jesus, the Prince of Peace.

Worship without Jesus is worthless, and prayer in the name of other gods sounds like what is going on in the U.S. House of Representatives.

We have reached the point where the U.S. government is ignoring Jesus, the Pope is ignoring Jesus, and according to the Bible, the Antichrist and False Prophet will ignore Jesus.

Anyway, Francis appears to be trying to unite the world’s religions around Abraham (not Jesus).

Some call this new religion Chrislam because it is an effort to merge the faiths of Christianity, Israel, and Islam.

Those that support this new religion will have to abandon or change many of their beliefs (but Jesus is the only way to be saved).

This could be the rise of MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH (Rev. 17:5).

During the Tribulation Period, the Antichrist and False Prophet will persecute and kill those that do not go along with Babylon’s harlot religion.

God will respond by calling 144,000 Jewish evangelists, Two Witnesses, and an angel to preach the gospel to everyone on earth.

Realize as you are reading this that the Bible teaches that the global false religion will locate at Babylon when Israel is back in the land, Jerusalem has been rebuilt, the world government will have the ability to track all buying and selling, there will be global pandemics, etc. These conditions are appearing today.

Know too that the Bible story of Abraham is about calling out one man to start a religion to bring forth the Messiah (Jesus), and it has absolutely nothing to do with uniting the religions or creating a one-world religion that replaces faith in Jesus with faith in false gods.

Here is one more thing that caught my attention: While in Iraq, Pope Francis met with Iraq’s Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani (in a secure location about 35 miles from where the ancient city of Babylon was located).

An Iraqi analyst said, “Both the pope and Ayatollah are renouncing violence and killing, and both would like mankind to live in peace, security (peace and safety) and faith.”

The Tribulation Period will begin when world leaders declare peace and safety.

Finally, if you want to go to heaven, you must be born again (John 3:3). God loves you, and if you have not done so, sincerely admit that you are a sinner; believe that Jesus is the virgin-born, sinless Son of God who died for the sins of the world, was buried, and raised from the dead; ask Him to forgive your sins, cleanse you, come into your heart and be your Saviour; then tell someone that you have done this.

[surfersofbole]

Going to Fall: What will you do?

This is the fifth installment in my “Going to Fall” series, which is based on Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall.”

What will you do?

Here, your father must now mention if God has seemed unjust, unkind, then, have you paid him no attention? Our sins are many, of great kinds; punishment ‘s held with retention

not unlike the water vapor within the clouds above the world. All the clouds won’t harm a scraper, but rain upon a cardboard home turns the walls into soaked paper.

I can sense your apprehension, and I can sense your broken pride. Do you have some great dissension? Well, now, just take your small asides to relieve any contention.

Some of us find things enlightening when we must live in heavy dark. Lightning rods control the frightening and brightening flash of the short night. Umbrellas keep th’ tensions tightening.

You would think there’d be prevention - that God himself would take the lead. God wants no Earthly dimension and so he goes ahead, concedes rain must fall without suspension.

What will you do, my blue-eyed son? Somethings are hard to answer. Some… What will you do, darling young one? Think you that I should know this thing? Morning comes now with the bright sun.

Going back out before the rain starts falling

I wake up scared as hell that things are going wrong. Why? I was not quite sure of what was going on. My mind was in a cell. I lie down quietly. The motionless allure of a ceiling, empty...

A day begins anew. Will I ever arise? A thunder I have heard; the skies will be disguised. The rainclouds now accrue. I’m scared to leave this place; though, maybe I’m absurd, and I should go/make haste.

I’ll walk the beaten path; I know it will be short. All the small excursions other souls couldn’t afford... I'll face the wanton wrath because the world will fear I am leading an incursion with my mouth that all’ll hear.

The depths of the deepest, black forest

Electrified air climbs to clustered cotton fluff; screams turn to grumbles.

Some schwarzwald sunshine prawns prowl blister-black water - ice of a night sky.

Sharp whistles whittle brittle branch and bark, bitter for the burning blight.

Hollow trees topple. Then, forests from dying flames born of detritus.

The people are many, their hands are all empty

Xerotic mouths agape, facade of night entreats a dreamer thirsting not the light, "neglect a cleanly state and state that you ordain the rain to fall as it is due."

Disguising no intentions with delight, obsessed with obfuscating appetite, come cumulating nimbus clouds above haranguing with each lightning strike thereof.

In time, hard rains again will lift the plight and everyone will be an acolyte lest all the clouds they see move out of sight.

The pellets of poison flooding their waters

(The vending machine hums softly. A whirring and some clinking kick off a habit, and I press a button. A quarter? I try again. In the mechanism, it moves. Thunk. Mother's approval.)

Someone's swimming in the pool.

Crystalline medium with waving surface dances the light upon the ceiling.

Diving at the deep, he sinks into the bottom for the longest moment until he is diluted by the dark.

I sit beside the edge, staring.

No manacles bind us to the station we submit.

Someone's swimming in the pool, but I've a job to do. "Refill the canister with two chlorine tablets. Lock up and leave."

The home in the valley meets the damp, dirty prison

I walk to where the sidewalk ends en masse, past the concrete's blend with grass and the footstep-muddled pastures.

I found the last spot God had cried: an oasis that has dried in the desert of this life.

The rain is not the coldest where the trees have met the forest and the mountain meets the valley.

The executioner’s face, always well hidden

At mass, the priest, in his white, polyester robes, stood among pink roses.

"I say, precious Lord, look upon us and see not injustice; instead, find hope."

Among the heightened exaltations of the chorus, water came down upon us.

Back when crimes against the Lord and his people were punishable, men like Christ and Beckett, with their deaths, made leaders grovel.

King, bearing a new weight, shouldered a poor people's campaign; in his memory, we hid this struggle. In this new poor people's campaign, shall hidden faces make another man infamous?

"Do this in memory of me."

The word of the Lord makes requisite that we do things in memory of others that perhaps, through us, they could live on. Such a cause as theirs is worth perpetuating; such a love as theirs is the great communion.

"Mass has ended. You may go in peace"

Hunger is ugly, souls are forgotten

Oysters - pried apart with pearls squeezed from their soft flesh - are discarded shells that cleansed murky waterways. Layered nacre anchors banks.

Black is the color, none is the number

For the briefest second, worlds are colorful and palm fronds, like percussion sections, fill the wind with scratching sound. As raindrops themselves drive through darkness into broken asphalt, thunder-crash!                        The crack in night, it vanished while a youth in leather shoes and wetting socks went running to a covered walkway. Hole-filled pockets bore some grimed receipts, old notes, worn cards, and damaged pictures in a wallet that was drawn up. She inserted plastic; as the m'chine slow- processed four fast digits, vehicles blurred past and disappear until, at last, a menu let her check the balance. Black in text, a zero showed up. Buzzing lights then flickered; rain felt bitter/harder.

Tell it, think it, speak it, breathe it

False flags on steel poles; you find their real goals cause hard heads to feel soles as reeled votes steal polls. Loss is a hand that's doled to thoughtless card holders; well oiled, pristine political machines need propaganda's grist cleaned and shoveled on the screens. Greed - democracy's splotch - fills you with the scotch blues; when the night is botched, sit back up to watch news. Feel cold and say burr under a cedar tree, or passover seder with Sam Seder, see his angered, sabered tongue work hard/labor long; hundreds of lungfuls from racist uncles tapered off. Like flaming fungal masses on crumpled paper, scoffed arguments hindered turn to cinder; try not to join the splintered dense blocks of tinder, dry rot. "Freedom isn't free, son..." some person breathes on as a prison's breeze comes; truth in neon: "Freedom isn't free, and it isn't freedom." Jaime Peck 'n' Michael Brooks wait with bridled facts on homicidal cops and Congress' idled acts. The left's best anchors, hosts of the Majority Report, unveil the languor of neofascist authority.

Reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it

Guinness in my system at a Regal cinema; someone said, "I miss him." Liquor mixed with cinnamon makes my throat feel dry; is that why I'm stifled? "On everyone's behalf, when we heard you laughing at Dave Rubin's gaffes, all our sides were halfing." Why am I nervous before the final curtain? "He did the world a service, that I say with certainty." "I want to drink, alright, rather than think all night; pour shots until bar fight hour is a starlight tour." Drink my Tennessee whiskey and Hennessy briskly in backgrounds of dim-lit rooms. As this dim-wit reflects, chances look slim; the future's a grim skit. Pillow to my head and sink in like lead, a stone carelessly embedded in the river bed alone.

Stand on the ocean until I start sinking

When one recollects that the keystone oft sank in the sand before standing aloft among clouds on a mountain so solid of faith and devotion, it's then that a false step compels men, "Recover!" I noticed thrombosis had felled the calm warrior, that saint among saints that is Archangel Michael; the champion of men and proponent of justice inspires l'avant-garde to claim in it's crawling a victory not pyrrhic but won with empiric- al knowledge against an- tithetical sirens that draw men towards hatred with bigotry, envy, and greed. So, surrender your voice, but renounce not your thoughts, and remember the message borne by a colossus that called out to Lazarus, "Come forth."

Know my song well before I start singing

Cantos coming soon to a year near you!

Notes

This is the order in which the poems were written: 2, 1, 4, 3, 6, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. I plan for poem 13 to be a series of cantos based on my time walking through a park in my home town.

What will you do?

This poem was written months ago while I was still a Tumblr poet and is the introduction to the final section of the Going to Fall collection of poems I've written. The next poem will be posted when I figure out where I saved it.

The depths of the deepest, black forest

I thought I had a poem for this portion of the final section of my "Going to Fall" poetry collection, but I couldn't find it. Luckily, the haiku challenge issued for November prompted me to write this in place of the imagined poem.

The people are many, their hands are all empty

There were two prompts for this poem. The first is an obscure words poetry contest that I volunteered myself, in which I received the prompt "Xenodochial" (which means hospitable or kind to strangers). The second was from a challenge I made [for] myself [...] I had been stuck on this particular portion for months now, so I'm glad to have something appropriate and fitting.

The pellets of poison flooding their waters

Perhaps I put too much thought into a story about a guy closing up after a hallucination. The stuff in the parenthesis was typed last, but I only put it in because I could find no better way to add that the narrator is thirsty. I was going to write a twelve poem collection on this prompt, based on monthly news stories of people making the world a worse place, but the poems were scrapped. I do hope to revisit the idea under a different title.Perhaps I put too much thought into a story about a guy closing up after a hallucination. The stuff in the parenthesis was typed last, but I only put it in because I could find no better way to add that the narrator is thirsty. I was going to write a twelve poem collection on this prompt, based on monthly news stories of people making the world a worse place, but the poems were scrapped. I do hope to revisit the idea under a different title.

The home in the in the valley meets the damp dirty prison

I had the first two lines stuck in my head for a couple of days. This is the result.

Hunger is ugly, souls are forgotten

This is just a poem comparing oysters and people.

Black is the color, none is the number

October 11, 2020 corrections: *line 4 - "And" -> "As" *line 7 - "." -> "," *line 8 - "Thunder-crash!" -> "thunder-crash!" and line split. *lines 13-16 - "Hole-filled pockets - dirty, wet - hold paper/plastic cards and damaged pictures in a wallet. It is" replaced with current version. *lines 18-21 - "plastic; as the machine processed four fast digits, vehicles dove on past and then they disappeared. At" replaced with current version.

Three Poems for the Great Progressive

This poem came together from the following stanza that I spit out a couple of nights ago: Passover seder with Sam Seder under my cedar tree. Say burr, see his sabered tongue labor long. Hundred lungful's hinder cindered minds. The tinder finds a racist uncle's baseless tongueful like dry rot: the fungal waste is erased from space. Try not It includes one line I wrote a few years ago: "I drink my Tennessee whiskey and Hennessy briskly." The poem is basically about listening to the news all the time because you're sick, feeling restless, going out to the movies and bars, and finally going to sleep. July 20, 2020 update: Completed in honor of Michael Brooks. Also, I wrote the following poem soon after I heard the news, but did not put the time into it that I would have liked. The ground is dry and leaves grow thin. When the new moon is out the fuses trip, the grid's offline, and the world stands too still, I look to the sky as the gold flecks fly; ember is ash. A chill climbs up my spine; stomach can't dip lower. I cannot scout a star within the restless sky. August 11, 2020 update: I saw a contest early morning and wrote the first stanza of the third poem. The second stanza was written after I returned from work. The prompt was the first line from the Beatles' "A Day in the Life".

NOTE: This is the title for “Tell it, think it, speak it, breathe it,” “Reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it,” and “Stand on the ocean until I start sinking.”

[gospelmusic]

Catholic Daily Reading + Reflection: 20 December 2020 - Jesus The Promised Messiah

Readings at Mass for Sunday December 20, 2020

Fourth Sunday of Advent Year B Vestment: Purple Today’s Rosary: The Glorious Mystery

Theme of the Sunday: 

Jesus, the Promised Messiah. There have been, and still are, many people who profess to be “messiahs” and “saviours” of humanity. The readings today tell us that there is only one true Messiah: Jesus, the son of Mary. In the first reading we have seen in the prophecy of Nathan that the descendants of David will inherit an eternal kingdom. In the gospel Jesus is presented as the Messiah. He is the king who will sit on the throne of his father David for ever. The second reading is a song of praise to God for his wonderful works.

Entrance Antiphon cf. Is 45:8

Drop down dew from above, you heavens, and let the clouds rain down the Just One; let the earth be opened and bring forth a Saviour. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

Collect

Pour forth, we beseech you, O Lord, your grace into our hearts, that we, to whom the Incarnation of Christ your Son was made known by the message of an Angel, may by his Passion and Cross be brought to the glory of his Resurrection. Who lives and reigns with you. ..

Jesus the Promised Messiah, Catholic Mass Reading for Sunday 20 December, 2020

FIRST READING

The kingdom of David shall be made sure for ever before the Lord. A reading from the second Book of Samuel (2 Samuel 7:1-5.8b-12.14a.16) When King David dwelt in his house, and the Lord had given him rest from all his enemies round about, the king said to Nathan the prophet, “See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, but the ark of God dwells in a tent.” And Nathan said to the king, “Go, do all that is in your heart; for the Lord is with you.” But that same night the word of the Lord came to Nathan, “Go and tell my servant David, ‘Thus says the Lord: Would you build me a house to dwell in? I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep, that you should be prince over my people Israel; and I have been with you wherever you went, and have cut off all your enemies from before you; and I will make for you a great name, like the name of the great ones of the earth. And I will appoint a place for my people Israel, and will plant them, that they may dwell in their own place, and be disturbed no more; and violent men shall afflict them no more, as formerly, from the time that I appointed judges over my people Israel; and I will give you rest from all your enemies. Moreover the Lord declares to you that the Lord will make you a house. When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. I will be his father, and he shall be my son. “‘And your house and your kingdom shall be made sure for ever before me; your throne shall be established for ever.”’ The word of the Lord.

RESPONSORIAL PSALM Psalm 89:2-3.4-5.27 and 29 (R.2a)

R/. I will sing forever of your mercies, O Lord. I will sing forever of your mercies, O Lord; Through all ages my mouth will proclaim your fidelity. I have declared your mercy is established forever; your fidelity stands firm as the heavens. R. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); “With my chosen one I have made a covenant; I have sworn to David my servant: I will establish your descendants forever, and set up your throne through all ages.” R. “He will call out to me, ‘You are my father,  my God, the rock of my salvation.’ I will keep my faithful love for him always; With him my covenant shall last.” R.

SECOND READING

“The mystery which was kept secret for long ages is now disclosed.” A reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Romans (Romans 16:25-27) Brethren: To him who is able to strengthen you according to my Gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery which was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed and through the prophetic writings is made known to all nations, according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith—to the only wise God be glory for evermore through Jesus Christ! Amen. The word of the Lord.

ALLELUIA Luke1:38

Alleluia. Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word. Alleluia.

GOSPEL

“Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son." A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke (Luke 1:26-38) The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you!” But she was greatly troubled at the saying, and considered in her mind what sort of greeting this might be. And the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there will be no end.” And Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since I know not man?” And the angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God. And behold, your kinswoman Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren. For with God nothing will be impossible.” And Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her. The Gospel of the Lord. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

PRAYER OF THE FAITHFUL

Mary, you have won God’s favour

PRIEST:

My brothers and sisters, Mary, the Mother of Jesus, has a special place in our Christian devotion because, through her humility, she found favour with God. With this in mind, let us pray that like her, through our humility, Christ may find a home in our hearts.

READER:

For the leaders of the Church, (pause) With Mary as their Mother, let them also follow her example of humility, and give a witness to the world that the least and last shall be the greatest and first in God’s kingdom (pause) we pray to the Lord: Lord, teach us to be humble we pray Oh Lord. For those in high places in civil government, (pause), Let them serve with generosity the poor and the destitute of our society, because they see in them the image of God their Creator and Father. (pause) we pray to the Lord: Lord, teach us to be humble we pray Oh Lord. For the deprived and outcasts of our society, (pause) let them understand that no one is excluded from the Lord’s kingdom who humbly seeks God our Father’s will. (pause) we pray to the Lord: Lord, teach us to be humble we pray Oh Lord. For the spread of God’s kingdom to every corner of our universe, (pause) let all men and women come to know the saving power of the Lord whose gospel of salvation for everyone shows that nothing is impossible to God. (pause) we pray to the Lord: Lord, teach us to be humble we pray Oh Lord.

PRIEST:

God always hears the prayers of his humble servants, and in silence, we make known to him our needs. Father, we pray to you with Mary, who found favour with you as your handmaid through her humble obedience to your will. May we have a true devotion to her and follow her example. Through Christ our Lord. Amen

Today's Reflection

God made a promise through the prophet Nathan to build an eternal dynasty for David and that his son would sit on the throne of that dynasty. The angel tells us in the Gospel that, that son of David who would sit on his throne forever is Jesus (cf Lk 1:31-32). It is a great privilege for David and Mary to participate in bringing God to the world as man. Three qualities of faith, generosity and selflessness in them disposed them for that privilege. We too need to embrace those qualities in this season so as to make the face of Jesus more visible to the world in need of salvation. May God grant us the grace to persevere in faith, generosity and selflessness and so gain Christ in our life. Amen

Personal Devotional

Pray that God will break every yoke of anxiety, fear and worries in your life. - What are the issues causing you sleepless nights? Surrender them to God NOW. Ask him to take control. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); - O Lord, turn your glorious face of compassion on all users of this '365 Reading' seeking the fruit of the wombs, that they may be blessed. - Lord, God of love remember all whose businesses are facing challenges. Intervene and grant new life to them. - Lord, I praise you as my perpetual benefactor and I call upon you as my merciful defender. Grant me total peace and joy.

Let Us Pray

Thanks be to you, my Lord Jesus Christ, for all the benefits which you have given me, for all the pains and insults which you have borne for me. O most merciful Redeemer, friend and brother, may I know you more clearly, love you more dearly, and follow you more nearly, day by day. Amen. Memory verse: Luke 8:24

Personal Devotional

MY SPIRITUAL CHECK-UP IN ADVENT Thank you for checking in this week for your Spiritual Cheeck-up. There is no better time than now to have a spiritual check-up for our souls as we prepare for the coming of Our Lord this Advent Season. The idea behind this exercise is to re-examine ourselves, and make amends with God and put ourselves alright with Him. When you go through this, remember it is designed to expose grey areas in our souls. This SPIRITUAL CHECK-UP IS ABSOLUTELY FREE unlike your medical check-up. This exercise will be within the four Sundays of Advent, kindly avail yourself and your family of this opportunity. USE THE FOLLOWING LISTS AS GUIDE TO EXAMINE YOUR LIFE BEFORE THE LORD. Please, take each one slowly and meditate on it carefully. CURSING - Have you used gutter language? Swearing has no place in the life of a child of God. Never use exclamations beginning with "G", "J", "F", or "C"; are they usually substitutes for curses against God. Have you failed to guard your speech? (Deut. 5:11; Matt. 5:33 - 37)  LEVITY - "Needless frivolity, silly talk - talking and acting like a moron". Jests that tend to undermine the sacred and precious standards of life; "Bible" jokes that make light of the Holy Word of God; unprofitable, empty and often stupid foolishness achieves nothing but a dangerous devaluation of the Christian's word. Real humor is a gift of God, and will always edify or prepare the way for the Holy Spirit; foolish levity is sin. (Ecc.5:3; Prov. 24:19; Eph. 5:4)  Inner Inspection HARDNESS - Did you fight back, murmur or return evil for evil? Was your response to trial un-Christ like when you were wronged or hurt by someone? (Phil 2:14; I Cor. 10:10)  Habits - Have you continually over-indulged natural appetites until they have grown far beyond normal? Are you a slave to food, drink or stimulants? (Phil. 3:19; Prov. 23:21; I Cor. 6:19) HARD-HEARTEDNESS - Can you remember times when you deliberately shirked your full share of responsibility? Did you skip times of secret or public prayer to please yourself when you should have been meeting with God? Have you been flippant and light with Him? (Prov. 19:15; 21:5; 24:11-12; Matt 25:1-13; 25:14-30; I Thess. 5:6; Jas. 4:13-17)  BROKEN VOWS - Is there a vow you made to God that you have not kept? Did you promise Him something that you have since forgotten or gone back upon? If it was unwise, you had better ask forgiveness and release; He expects you to KEEP voluntary vows! (Eccl. 5:1-6)  (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

DIAGNOSIS

If the Holy Spirit shows us our sin, we must go back to the cross where the Lord first met us. We see the Lord Jesus once crucified - for that sin - bearing our penalty. Our sin nails Jesus to the cross all over again. We tear open His wounds and make His redemption a mockery. Walk out into the light of reality. Drop your self-deceit and face this sin for what it really is. Turn from it, from your heart. Take sides with God against it,- resolve in your heart NEVER to go back into that sin again. MEDICATION OR SURGERY NEEDED? Note that, "If we confess our sins, He is FAITHFUL and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."(1 Jn. 1:9) Will you go to your gracious and loving Father as a little child and humbly ask His forgiveness? The LORD is merciful and gracious...He has not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities; “For as the heaven is above the earth, so great is His mercy towards them that fear Him; as far as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions from us." (Ps. 103:12) Let Us Pray (Please go down on your kneels and pray for forgiveness) "Oh God, You know my foolishness, and my sin is not concealed from You...please pardon my iniquity, for it is great...If you, Lord, would mark iniquities, who shall stand? But there is forgiveness with You, that You may be feared." (Ps. 69:5; 25:11; 130:3-4) look with pity on me, your humble servant, and have mercy in Jesus name. Mary my dearest mother pray to Jesus for me. Will you go to your gracious and loving Father as a little child and humbly ask His forgiveness? Note that, "If we confess our sins, He is FAITHFUL and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."(1 Jn. 1:9) (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); The LORD is merciful and gracious...He has not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities; For as the heaven is above the earth, so great is His mercy towards them that fear Him; as far as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions from us." (Ps. 103:12) Thank you for taking time out to have your spiritual health checked this Advent Season; The more often you get cheeked, the healther you will be.

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[petitenicolita-blog]

A Rainy September

Summary:  For the majority of her life Kagome has been the underdog. With a twin sister that hates her, a father that is presumed dead, a brother that's always getting into fights and a mistake from the past meeting at once, it can only mean one thing; hell for this little miko. Add into the equation that it's senior year and you have one hell of a roller-coaster ride about to begin. Please enjoy this updating story and feel free to leave any comments, suggestions, questions or even critiques!

Chapter Six: Used to be Mine

"Oi!" Inuyasha's tense frame jumped in front of Kagome's line of sight, successfully blocking his half brother from her view. "The hell was that outside, woman?" She tilted her head a bit to the side in mock innocence, "What was what?"

He narrowed his honey tinted eyes at her in accusation. "Wench," he growled dangerously.

Kagome let out an annoyed huff and pushed herself off of the door frame, her closed off eyes boring into the half demon's. "Are you referring to the surge of reiki or perhaps the bastard that tends to be sneakier than a rat?"

"B-Both?"

"That is neither your concern, little brother," Sesshomaru decided to step in now. "Nor is it important."

"The hell it ain't!"

"Inuyasha..." Kikyo tried to calm her significant other by placing a gentle hand on his tightly closed fist.

"No!" He snarled at her, "This bastard decides to show up after seven years of nothing, not even a word to his own brother, and tries to act like he's alpha now. You can't be alpha to a pack you abandoned!"

"Inuyasha!" Kikyo and Heiwa hissed at him, their own reiki beginning to surface.

"What!?" Before he could get any closer to her family, Kagome appeared before him faster than anyone could see. Her blazing ember eyes shone with an unleashed fury as she growled out, "You come any closer and I'll purify your demon half permanently." As if to challenge him, she sent out a wave of her purification in warning.

Sesshomaru's hand gave a light squeeze to the young miko's shoulder before he stepped in front of her, "You are correct in your accusations."

"Wh-What-"

"Sesshomaru-"

He held his hand up to silence everyone, "This one has left his personal pack behind for another, going so far as to travel a great distance for such frivolity. I have since discovered how grave my miscalculations were."

"M-Miscalculations?" Inuyasha stuttered in disbelief, "What a load of-" Kagome gave off another wave of energy in warning causing the hanyou to stare at her in anger. "You can't seriously be supporting this bastard!"

Her soft whisper proved successful in silencing him, "He has valid reasons for leaving, Inu."

"Miko," Sesshomaru rumbled in a low, warning tone. She just shook her head and held a hand out to Inuyasha, "If you would just listen...Just be open minded, I can show you what he's been going through." She then turned to briefly glance at the daiyoukai, "He deserves to know-"

An orchid toned smoke filled the room. When it diminished enough for proper sight it became evident that the youngest daughter of the Higurashi Clan was missing. "K-Kagome?" Souta called out in vain.

"Damn," Inuyasha ruffled his silver locks in aggravation, "Where the hell did that woman go?" The women of the house locked eyes, sharing an unspoken agreement before stating in unison, "Kareshi."

A soft purple mist spread through an old abandoned bookstore before clearing to reveal Kagome's shaking form. Her eyes kept flashing between her vibrant hazel and the burning ember, her hair now a mess from the sudden conveyance.

"Dammit," She grunted. Her body connected with one of the many bookshelves and caused a few of the documents to fall at her feet.

The same harmless gas took the form of a human in front of the conflicted woman. When it dissipated, she found herself looking up at the form a male. He looked to be no older than she and with a complexion even paler than her own. His raven hair stopped just above his shoulders, a third of it pulled back into a lazy bun. His ember eyes bore down at her in a taunting manner, the colour only sticking out further by the raven bangs that surrounded them.

"It's been a while since we've spoken face to face," Came his baritone voice.

"You will share the information of what has just happened."

"Of course, Sesshomaru-sama," Heiwa gave him a formal bow in respected before then heading off towards the kitchen. "Shall I start some tea as well?"

After everyone had situated themselves around the wooden table and the water began heating up, Heiwa took her own seat at the head. Her elbows lay resting against the stained wood, her fingers lacing together and holding her chin.

"Kagome has always been a very fragile child. She was born with a weak soul and has nearly lost her life on multiple occasions. She often became the scapegoat of her peers, falling victim to their torment and bullying. To my own personal knowledge she never once tried to defend herself. I could never figure out why."

The head of the family wiped away a few stray tears from her cheeks before clearing her throat to continue, "She has a rare ability known as chikon. Shortly after Hebi...disappeared...Kagome became even more vulnerable. Her cries often attracted demons and spirits alike to our shrine in attempt to cage her power. And then one night a certain spirit made it through our barrier."

Sesshomaru rose a delicate eyebrow, "Kareshi?"

"Hai," Heiwa nodded in confirmation. "His spirit had been wandering for months and became infatuated with my daughter. Much as you had," Her eyes shifted to glance at the daiyoukai briefly. "He watched over her as she slept and fought off any of the evil creatures that slipped through the cracks and searched her out. He protected her."

"And this Kareshi," Sesshomaru leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. His eyebrows furrowed together slightly in thought. "Would it be an accurate assumption that he now resides within her body?"

"Keh, as if-"

"You are correct." Heiwa nodded once more.

Kikyo chose this moment to speak up now and continue for her mother, "We were only nine when the ritual first began. Her aura knew what was happening around her, even if she couldn't comprehend it at the time. So in her resting state, her reiki called out for his yoki until they finally merged together."

"What the hell are you doing here now!?" Kagome grunted, her hand raising to press down against her throbbing head, "Dammit!"

Her body fell to the ground with a loud thud as she struggled to regain her breath. The man bent his legs until he was squatting in front of the fallen girl and rested his head on his hand. His elbow was propped up by one of his knees. "The purification really took a lot out of you back there, didn't it?"

"Fuck off," The stranger released a sigh and shook his head at her words. He let out a low whistle, "Pretty girls like you shouldn't swear like that." His finger flicked Kagome's forehead and she growled in annoyance.

"What are you doing here, Kareshi? Why appear now?"

"I came to have a serious conversation with you," He stated as if it was the most obvious thing on Earth. "A little warning; do not tell the half-breed of his family's massacre."

"B-But..." Kagome whispered meekly, "He has a right to know!"

Tears formed in her hazel pools and quickly traveled down her cheeks, "Sesshomaru was only trying to protect the last living member of his clan..." With a sigh, Kareshi used his free arm to pull Kagome's body to his and held her head to his chest. "He doesn't deserve to be hated for it," She cried harder. Her tears kept coming as if it wasn't just her pain she was unleashing.

After listening to the rest of the troublesome girl's experience with the mysterious spirit, Sesshomaru stood and turned his reserved eyes onto Heiwa's form. "Does the girl still escape to same cove?"

Heiwa shook her head, "Kagome does. Kareshi does not." Souta chimed in, "B-But there's an old bookstore across the town that she used to frequent after dad's disappearance."

"Come." Was all the demon said before turning to leave the house. He didn't deem it worthy enough to wait for a proper response from the boy. He had far more important matters to attend to currently.

Sesshomaru's eyes shifted to the boy briefly, "We must fly."

"F-Fly?" He simply nodded and summed his youkai below his feet, a subtle cloud beginning to form and raising his body from the ground. "W-Wait!" Souta shouted in the fear of being left behind. His hands instantly shot out and grasped onto the surprising silky cloud. "Woah..."

It took approximately twenty minutes to reach the closed off building with this quick form of transportation.

The bittersweet cry of a violin traveled to the two men's ears before their feet even touched the ground. Making sure to be as quiet as possible, the pair made their way to a damaged window. Brilliant ember widened a fraction before hazing over as though lost in the past.

There, Kagome sat atop an old desk, her legs dangling over the wooden edge. In her hands were a violin and bow. Her delicate fingers made quick work at a sorrowful melody. After a few moments, the instruments fell to her lap with her hands. Her eyes had long since returned to their natural hazel and now glossed over as if trapped in a memory.

Her faint pink lips parted as the heavy words of self-doubt left her lips and carried her worries to anyone listening.

"It's not what I asked for! Sometimes life just slips in through a back door and carves out a person. And it makes you believe it's all true and now I've got you but you're not what I asked for. If I'm honest, I know I would give it all back for a chance to start over and rewrite an ending or two for the girl that I knew."

Never before had Sesshomaru witnessed the young woman quite as vulnerable as she currently was. Even when lost in the woods, her tiny feet filthy from running in muddied circles, she never seemed so meek. So tame.

So...unsure of herself.

Before he could think further on his troubling thoughts, Kagome's head tilted a bit in the direction of the two new men. Her eyes softened at the sight of them. "Souta," Her gaze lingered on the daiyoukai for a moment, "Sesshomaru..."

Said demon easily leapt through the window before the siblings could realize what he had done. His eyes bore into the young miko's as if searching her soul for the answer to a riddle he could not unlock.

Sesshomaru's deadly claws reached out for the young woman situated on the oak wood desk still. His intense gaze softened ever so slightly at the sight of her still exhausted frame, "You have used quite a bit of your reiki this evening."

She nodded as she hopped off the piece of furniture, her feet carrying her over to the daiyoukai until she was close enough to grasp his hand. "Nothing I haven't done before in the past," she laughed halfheartedly.

Pulling her body flush against his, Sesshomaru leaned down to press his forehead against Kagome's. His hand still firmly grasped her own while the other situated itself against the back of her head to hold it in place. "This one is very much aware of your constant unnecessary release of energy," He grumbled.

Before she could respond, Kareshi chimed in with a snarky, "Get a room!"

Kagome's cheeks flushed in response but she still had yet to pull away from the demon. Not wanting the spirit to ruin the reunion any further than he had, Souta pressed his hand firmly against the man's chest. The pressure strong enough to force him to take a few steps back in response.

"Oi!" He protested against the hand, "I ain't no damn toy! You can't just make me-"

"Release!" Souta grunted with a brief pulse of his own azure aura. Within a matter of seconds the materialized body of the spirit disappeared in a cloud of white smoke.

The pair stood in a comfortable silence for a long while after Souta's interference and the mysterious protector's forced departure, neither one of them were willing to move away from the other in that moment.

Then, too soon for either one's liking, Kagome pulled away from him with a soft whisper, "You should visit more often." Her underlying message was clear to anyone capable of hearing; I missed you.

Sesshomaru nodded his head and released a barely audible sigh, his posture straightening up instantly.

"It was never this Sesshomaru's intention to be gone for so long." When Kagome rose her eyebrow for further information he released another sigh, "The West is in chaos."

"What's happened?"

"A pest has slipped through the cracks and created havoc within this one's own personal home," he snarled out.

Kagome rose her hand to give his bicep a gentle pat in sympathy, her teeth tugging in her lower lip in a nervous habit before she spoke up again. "Was it Naraku?" He shook his head, "That has not been proven as of yet."

"And what about your mother? Surely she-" Another shake of his head caught her attention, "What..." She whispered, "What happened to Inukimi? You know how she was around Izayoi-sama, there was no reason for her to be in the palace! Don't tell me she actually left her own lands to protect..."

There was a long moment of silence before he stated coldly, "The InuTaisho Clan has all but fallen."

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

5th February >> Mass Readings (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

    or

Saint Agatha, Virgin, Martyr.

Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

First Reading

Hebrews 12:1-4

We should keep running steadily in the race we have started

With so many witnesses in a great cloud on every side of us, we too, then, should throw off everything that hinders us, especially the sin that clings so easily, and keep running steadily in the race we have started. Let us not lose sight of Jesus, who leads us in our faith and brings it to perfection: for the sake of the joy which was still in the future, he endured the cross, disregarding the shamefulness of it, and from now on has taken his place at the right of God’s throne. Think of the way he stood such opposition from sinners and then you will not give up for want of courage. In the fight against sin, you have not yet had to keep fighting to the point of death.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 21(22):26-28,30-32

R/ They shall praise you, Lord, those who seek you.

My vows I will pay before those who fear him.

The poor shall eat and shall have their fill.

They shall praise the Lord, those who seek him.

May their hearts live for ever and ever!

R/ They shall praise you, Lord, those who seek you.

All the earth shall remember and return to the Lord,

all families of the nations worship before him;

They shall worship him, all the mighty of the earth;

before him shall bow all who go down to the dust.

R/ They shall praise you, Lord, those who seek you.

And my soul shall live for him, my children serve him.

They shall tell of the Lord to generations yet to come,

declare his faithfulness to peoples yet unborn:

‘These things the Lord has done.’

R/ They shall praise you, Lord, those who seek you.

Gospel Acclamation

John 14:6

Alleluia, alleluia!

I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, says the Lord;

No one can come to the Father except through me.

Alleluia!

Or:

Matthew 8:17

Alleluia, alleluia!

He took our sicknesses away,

and carried our diseases for us.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Mark 5:21-43

Little girl, I tell you to get up

When Jesus had crossed in the boat to the other side, a large crowd gathered round him and he stayed by the lakeside. Then one of the synagogue officials came up, Jairus by name, and seeing him, fell at his feet and pleaded with him earnestly, saying, ‘My little daughter is desperately sick. Do come and lay your hands on her to make her better and save her life.’ Jesus went with him and a large crowd followed him; they were pressing all round him.

Now there was a woman who had suffered from a haemorrhage for twelve years; after long and painful treatment under various doctors, she spent all she had without being any the better for it, in fact, she was getting worse. She had heard about Jesus, and she came up behind him through the crowd and touched his cloak. ‘If I can touch even his clothes,’ she had told herself ‘I shall be well again.’ And the source of the bleeding dried up instantly, and she felt in herself that she was cured of her complaint. Immediately aware that power had gone out from him, Jesus turned round in the crowd and said, ‘Who touched my clothes?’ His disciples said to him, ‘You see how the crowd is pressing round you and yet you say, “Who touched me?”’ But he continued to look all round to see who had done it. Then the woman came forward, frightened and trembling because she knew what had happened to her, and she fell at his feet and told him the whole truth. ‘My daughter,’ he said ‘your faith has restored you to health; go in peace and be free from your complaint.’

While he was still speaking some people arrived from the house of the synagogue official to say, ‘Your daughter is dead: why put the Master to any further trouble?’ But Jesus had overheard this remark of theirs and he said to the official, ‘Do not be afraid; only have faith.’ And he allowed no one to go with him except Peter and James and John the brother of James. So they came to the official’s house and Jesus noticed all the commotion, with people weeping and wailing unrestrainedly. He went in and said to them, ‘Why all this commotion and crying? The child is not dead, but asleep.’ But they laughed at him. So he turned them all out and, taking with him the child’s father and mother and his own companions, he went into the place where the child lay. And taking the child by the hand he said to her, ‘Talitha, kum!’ which means, ‘Little girl, I tell you to get up.’ The little girl got up at once and began to walk about, for she was twelve years old. At this they were overcome with astonishment, and he ordered them strictly not to let anyone know about it, and told them to give her something to eat.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

———————-

Saint Agatha, Virgin, Martyr

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

First Reading

1 Corinthians 1:26-31

God chose what is foolish by human reckoning, to shame the wise

Take yourselves for instance, brothers, at the time when you were called: how many of you were wise in the ordinary sense of the word, how many were influential people, or came from noble families? No, it was to shame the wise that God chose what is foolish by human reckoning, and to shame what is strong that he chose what is weak by human reckoning; those whom the world thinks common and contemptible are the ones that God has chosen – those who are nothing at all to show up those who are everything. The human race has nothing to boast about to God, but you, God has made members of Christ Jesus and by God’s doing he has become our wisdom, and our virtue, and our holiness, and our freedom. As scripture says: if anyone wants to boast, let him boast about the Lord.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 30(31):3-6,8,16-17

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

Be a rock of refuge for me,

a mighty stronghold to save me,

for you are my rock, my stronghold.

For your name’s sake, lead me and guide me.

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

Into your hands I commend my spirit.

It is you who will redeem me, Lord.

As for me, I trust in the Lord:

let me be glad and rejoice in your love.

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

My life is in your hands, deliver me

from the hands of those who hate me.

Let your face shine on your servant.

Save me in your love.

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

Gospel Acclamation

1 Peter 4:14

Alleluia, alleluia!

It is a blessing for you

when they insult you for bearing the name of Christ,

for the Spirit of God rests on you.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Luke 9:23-26

The Son of Man is destined to suffer grievously

Jesus said:

‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake, that man will save it. What gain, then, is it for a man to have won the whole world and to have lost or ruined his very self? For if anyone is ashamed of me and of my words, of him the Son of Man will be ashamed when he comes in his own glory and in the glory of the Father and the holy angels.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

[marq-de-laf]

you've talked about before how Lafayette's letters to someone about Adrienne's death were really heartbreaking, so I really want to read them. Where did you find them?

I have not yet written to you, my dear friend, so plunged in

misery have I been; though I very nearly did so when I trans- mitted to you the tokens of her friendship for you and of her confidence in your feelings for her. You have already been informed of the end of this angelic and incomparable woman. I feel a profound need to speak of it to you at greater length. I seek relief from my pain in pouring out my feelings to the most constant, the most beloved confidant, with whom I shared those vicissitudes which made me think myself unhappy. Until this moment you have always found me stronger than the circum- stances of my life: today the circumstances are stronger than I am. I shall never rise above them.

During the thirty-four years of a union in which her tender- ness, her goodness, her elevation of mind, her delicacy and generosity charmed and embellished my life and made of it an honourable thing, I came to be so used to all she meant to me that I could not draw a line of distinction between her existence and my own. She was fourteen years old and I sixteen when her heart first became inextricably blended with everything that mattered to me. I felt quite certain that I loved her and needed her, but it is only now, when, having lost her, I have to unravel what remains of myself from that sweet entanglement so as to face what is left me of a life which I once thought filled with so many distractions, that I realize how impossible it is that I shall ever more know happiness or well-being. Never did the presentiment of loss come upon me so strongly as when, after leaving Chavaniac, an alarming note from Madame de Tesse was given to me at Brioude. I felt as though I had been struck to the heart. George feared the effect upon me of my feelings at that moment more than he did the actual danger. We made all the speed we could, and on arriving in Paris could see at once that she was indeed desperately ill: but apart from the fact that I had never really believed, why I do not know, that the source of her trouble lay in the duodenum, I attributed to the joy of seeing us again some part at least of the improvement which showed in her next day. Her stomach was eased, but she began to suffer from a thickness in the head. To Madame de Simiane she observed: "I am going to have a malignant fever, but since I shall be well looked after, I shall get over it." But alas! after an illness which had afflicted her now for several years two months of suffering and increasing weakness at a peculiarly critical period of her life this was more than a simple malignant fever, there being a certain dissolution in the blood, which appeared to be the most ominous symptom. Cor- visart, however, had been hopeful for a while, though he had rightly said that only the enlightened and devoted care of Monsieur Lobinhes could have preserved that dear life for so long. There could be no question of saving her, but we owe it to him that the final collapse was delayed and that the pain was eased. We found some comfort in mingling our tears with his. Her dear mind began to wander when her confessor came to see her. In response to my daughters' wish, he withdrew after a few vague words, but the nurse brought him back, though by so doing she incurred their reproaches against which she could put up but a poor defence. Their mother then made her confession. That evening she said to me: "If I am bound for another world, you know how busy I shall be about you, there. The sacrifice of my life would count for little, much though it will cost me to be parted from you, if it could assure your eternal happiness. " The day on which she received the sacraments she set great store on my being present. She then relapsed into a state of unbroken delirium, a delirium more extraordinary and more touching than any I have ever witnessed. Try, my dear friend, to imagine her poor brain all deranged, so that she thought herself in Egypt, in Syria, among the events of the reign of Athaliah which Celestine's lessons had left firmly implanted in her mind, her thoughts all confused and troubled except those in which her heart was concerned. At last the delirium became continuous, though it never clouded an unalterable sweetness, a constant wish to please, so that all the time she was trying to say some- thing that would please me, to express her gratitude for all the care that was being given to her, a fear that she was tiring others, the need she felt to be useful to them for in these matters she never ceased, in her feelings and her innate goodness, to be in any way different from what she would have been had she had full control of her reason. There was also an elevation in her thoughts, an acuteness of observation, a clarity and elegance of expression which astonished all those who were present, and those to whom were transmitted the admirable and charming utterances which issued from that disordered mind. But what above all things was so adorable was the way in which the full flow of her tenderness was unceasingly directed on her children and her sister, the concern she showed for the health of her aunt and Monsieur de Tesse thinking all the time that she was with them at Memphis the delight she took in hearing talk about her friends, and all this while her imagina- tion was hopelessly deranged, though by a miracle of sensitive- ness it never became unalterably fixed on any one object, save when it turned to her relations with me. It was as though the thought of them lay too deep to be troubled, was stronger than her sickness, stronger than death itself. For this angelic creature had already ceased to belong to this world. Everything in her was frozen but for feeling, which, with such warmth and life as still remained, seemed to have become concentrated in the hand that clung to mine. It may even have been that she surrendered more completely to the expression of her tenderness, to the free flow of feeling, than would have been the case had she been in her right mind. Not that the sweet angel was afflicted with any terrors concerning her future life. Her religion was all love and confidence. She had been scrupulous in the observance of her religious duties, even quite recently, for the sake of her daughters, who might other- wise have been more urgent in pressing upon her the taking of the sacraments. But no fear of Hell had ever come near her. She did not believe in it as a possibility for good, sincere and virtuous people, no matter what their opinions might be. "I do not know what will happen at the moment of their deaths," she used to say, "but only that God will open their eyes and save them." She would, however, have thought it incumbent upon her to divert her mind more wholly from the emotions which were the lifeblood of all the faculties of her spirit, and, to quote one of the last expressions of which she made use, "of every fibre of her body". She would have dealt with what she called her sins, but very tenderly, for she could never understand how there could be any divine punishment other than exclusion from the life and presence of the Supreme Being. Many are the times when you have heard me joke with her about her pleasing heresies. Who knows whether the fear of increasing my regrets may not in part have restrained her from giving full rein to her feelings, just as another form of control prevented her during her lifetime from abandoning herself to what was passionate in them? "There was a time," she told me only a few months ago, "when, on your return from America, I felt myself to be so violently carried away as to be almost ill when you entered a room where I happened to be, so that I was afflicted by a dread lest I might seem too importunate and so embarrass your natural delicacy. I therefore tried to keep a tight hold on myself. But what I did allow to show should not have displeased you." Well, in that adorable delirium in which she remained where all that had to do with me was concerned there was nothing to restrain the outpourings of that incomparable tenderness, that if I may so describe it cult of the heart, which then showed itself in all its beauty, all its exaltation, all its plenitude. "How grateful I am to God," she said during her illness, "that so violent a passion should also have been a duty! How happy I have been," she said on the day of her death, "in having had the wonderful good fortune to be your wife." And, when I told her of my love for her : "Is that true?" she said in a voice that touched my heart. "Is that really true? How good you are ! Say it again, for to hear it gives me pleasure ... If you think you are not loved enough," she said, "then you must lay the blame on God for not having given me faculties enough." She also said to me in the midst of her delirium: "I love you as a Christian, as a human being, passionately, even voluptuously, or should do, had I any senses left." And indeed her weakness was extreme. Her poor body was a mass of blisters and running sores. "What a state for your wife to be in," she said, "looking as though she had been skinned." When she was pitied for her sufferings, she was afraid of having exaggerated them to herself and to others. One day when her wounds had just been dressed and I was looking at her with compassion: "Ah," she said, "I am more than rewarded by the kindness in your eyes." She often begged me to stay longer because my presence calmed her, because it did her so much good to know that I was near her. At other times discretion came uppermost. She wanted me to attend to my own concerns, and when I answered that my only concern was to look after her: "How good you are!" she exclaimed in her weak but penetrating voice. "You are too kind, you are spoiling me. I do not deserve so much. I am too happy." The habit she had acquired of always being concerned for me, of reading what I was thinking in my eyes, had left her, even in delirium, with an astonishing sagacity about my every mood, though she could not disentangle the causes of it. "Does your present way of life please you?" she often asked me with anxiety in her voice. One day, when she asked my servant Louis for news of his wife and child, whom in fact he had just lost, she guessed that I was vexed, without understanding why: "Is it that my question to Louis pains you?" she asked. Once, after a day when we had been very unhappy, she said: "Your face is more serene today, but not altogether so." On another occasion, when I had been much oppressed with worry and she was looking at me as I sat at some distance from her bed, she said: "You are looking cheerful ... but not too cheerful;" then, staring at me very fixedly: "I dare swear you have been suffering with your chest, haven't you, now?" I tell you all these details, my dear friend, because they are evidence, among a thousand other things, of that tender, constant and informed attention where I was concerned from which nothing, not even sickness, not even delirium, could distract her mind. The delirium, however, went very deep and was extremely stubborn. It bore chiefly on the troublous reign of Athaliah, which seemed to obsess her; on the family of Jacob, in which she liked to think that I was greatly loved; and on the quarrels of Israel and Judah. "It would be very strange," she said, "if, being your wife, I were obliged to sacrifice myself for a king!" She had a fear of troubles and proscriptions, but was ready to face them with that sweetness and determination which had characterized her when such things had been an actual threat. She rejoiced in the noble courage, the disinterestedness and the greatness of mind of her son and her sons-in-law, and, when inquiring whether there was likely to be a persecution of the Christians, and martyrdoms, counted upon me to defend the oppressed. "It seems to me," she said, "that the world is being made over again from the beginning: there is no end to all these experiments. When, O when, will the world run smoothly on two wheels, as you want it to?" All this was muddled in her brain, and it was in Egypt and in Syria that she believed herself to be. "I do not know where I am," she said. "I seem to have a makeshift head on a mortifying body." One day she was worried because she had a vague idea that she was an empress. "But if I were," she added, "then you would be an emperor, and it would be you who had it on his conscience." There was a moment when we thought the delirium was pass- ing. "I am mad, am I not?" she exclaimed. "Come close and tell me whether I have lost my reason?" I replied that I should be very much distressed if I thought that all the charming things that she had said to me were absurdities. "Have I said charming things to you? ... but I have also said a lot of extravagant ones. We have been playing the tragedy of ATHALIE. What! here I am too, married to the most truthful of men, my children are truthful, yet I cannot get at the truth. It is all because of your goodness: you deal gently with my head: but tell me. I will resign myself to the shame of being mad!" We succeeded in calming her. I told her that she was highly regarded and much loved. "I do not mind about being highly regarded, so long as I am still loved." Another time she said: "See what has happened to my poor head: it is strange, but I cannot now remember whether Virginie and Monsieur de Lasteyrie are betrothed or married ... Help me to find myself again." Sometimes she could be heard praying in her bed. She made her daughters read the prayers of the Mass to her, and never failed to notice when they left out passages so as not to fatigue her. There was an almost unearthly quality in the way in which, on one of her last nights, she recited twice over in a strong emphatic voice a song of Tobit which was applicable to her situation the same she had recited to her daughters on seeing the towers of Olmutz for the first time. I drew close to her. "It is by Tobit," she said. "I sing badly; that is why I recite it." On another occasion she spoke a most beautiful extempore prayer for a whole hour on end. I never knew her to be wrong about me save once, when for a few moments she was convinced that I had become a fervent Christian. But the mistake was fleeting and accompanied by doubts and questions which proved that what she had said was as much the expression of a wish as an illusion. "You are not a Christian, are you?" she said one day. Then, since I made no answer: "Ah! I know what you are: you are a Fayettist!" "You must think me very bumptious,' I replied, "but are you not something of one yourself ?" "Indeed, yes!" she exclaimed. "With all my heart! I fed I would give my life for that sect." This she said with a very discerning look, and added: "But you admire Jesus Christ, do you not?" I told her, as I had often done before, that I did. "Well then, since you admire him so much, you will end by recognizing his divinity ..." I once spoke to her about her angelic gentleness. "That is true," she said. "I am gentle: God made me so. But my gentle- ness is not like yours. I cannot make so high a claim. You are so strong, and at the same time so gentle. But I agree that I am gentle, and you are very good to me." "It is you who are good," I answered, "and above all else, generous. Do you remember the first time I went to America? Everybody else was furious with me, but you hid your tears at the wedding of Madame de S6gur. You did not want to appear sorrowful lest others might blame me." "Yes, indeed," she said, "gentle, but as a child is gentle. How sweet it is of you to remember things that happened so long ago!" She spoke to me very sensibly about the happiness of her daughters, and of the nobility and goodness of her sons-in-law. "But I have not been able to make them as happy as I have been: it would have needed the power of God to do such a thing twice. You are beyond compare!" It is not because I want to boast that I tell you all this, my dear friend, though there is more than enough to make me proud: but because it is a joy for me to talk over with you all that reminds me of her gentleness and happiness. How happy she would have been this winter: the three families all reunited; the war over for George and Louis; Virginie about to have a child; and our love the more increased by the illness from which we had feared that she might not recover! How good it was of her in those last days to worry herself about my amusements at La Grange, and about my farming, matters that had remained quite clear in her head, because for so long they had constituted her daily interest. When I spoke to her about our going home: "Ah," she said, "that would be too delicious! Dear God, dear God! Oh, for six poor years of La Grange!" On one of those last days when the thought of going there with me had made her restless and she thought it would be better if I went on ahead, I begged her to let me stay with her. I made her promise she would rest, and she said that she would do her best to obey me. Then, growing calmer: "Well then, stay," she said. "Wait just a little while and I will fall asleep quite quietly." Poor woman! it was a presentiment of the fate in store for us. In spite of the confusion and disorder of her mind, she knew that she was going to die. Two nights previously, I heard her say to her nurse: "Do not leave me. Tell me when I have to die." I approached the bed. Her fear grew less, but when I spoke of her being cured and returning to La Grange: "Ah no," she said. "I am going to die. Have you any grudge against me?" "What grudge could I have, my dearest?" I answered. "You have always been so sweet, so good." "So I have been a pleasant companion for you?"

"Indeed you have."

"Then bless me." On all those last evenings, whenever I left her or she thought I was about to leave her, she asked me for my blessing. When in those last days I spoke to her of the happiness of our union and of my deep affection, she made me repeat my assur- ances so that she might have the more pleasure, and said: "Promise me to keep that affection always. Promise me!" I need not tell you that I did. "Are you satisfied with our children?" she went on. I told her that I was, profoundly so. "They are very good," she said. "Give them your support: let your affection for me make up for their shortcomings." Then, her delirium getting the upper hand : "How do you think they will do for the house of Jacob?" I told her that our excellent children would enter into all her feelings. "Ah," she replied, "my feelings are very temperate. I have only those I have for you. My heart has kept all its tenderness for you." Only twice did I see her delirium grow violent, and on both occasions the frenzy of maternal affection was the cause. Once when George, to spare her from exhausting herself in talk, came into her room after having stayed away from it for some time, she thought he had arrived straight from the army. So overjoyed was she at seeing him again that her heart began to beat violently and we were frightened. The other time was when she grew much animated at the idea that she had just made me a father once again. She was well-nigh drunk with joy at the approach of that anniversary, so dear to our hearts, of the day twenty-eight years ago when she had given me George. That day of mutual felicitations was

the day on which she died. It is impossible sufficiently to admire the sweetness, the patience, the unchanging considerateness of this angelic woman during her long and painful illness. There was not a moment, even in the course of that month-long delirium, that she did not think about others. She had a dread of being importunate, and frequently said: "I am exceedingly tedious and very tire- some. My children," she added, "must resign themselves to having a stupid mother, seeing that their father is willing to put up with a stupid wife." She never gave the least sign of being made irritable by her condition, of impatience when she was in pain, of resentment at her nurse's attentions or at the remedies prescribed for her. When she most disliked having to drink some draught or other, one word from me or from our children (or, in our absence, the thought that her attendants might be scolded) was enough to make her do so in spite of her feeling of nausea, so that we had to harden ourselves against her wish to please. Up till the very last, everything done for her was greeted with a word of thanks, a nod of the head, a gesture of the hand. "Never," said Monsieur Lobinhes, "in the course of a long practice have I ever seen anything even remotely comparable to that adorable character, that extraordinary delirium! No, I have never seen anything that has given me so complete an idea of human perfection ..." When the moment came for her to breathe her last, the last but one thing she said was that she was not in pain. "That I can well believe," exclaimed her nurse, "for she is an angel." Not only in her sick-room, but when she was staying with her aunt and in those little gatherings of friends who came for news of her, this incomparable woman was a living object-lesson in all that was good, amiable, virtuous and tender. "You have news of Monsieur de Maubourg? Oh, I rely much on him; he is very fond of me and rejoices that our two families are now one." And one indeed they are. Those were her words, and I have sent them to you with all the dear devotion of my heart. Her delirium did not stand in the way of her wishing for news of Victor, of Tracy, of Florimond and saying to me: "How delightful to have letters from Constantinople!" She also charged Emilie to give her fondest good wishes to Augustine.* The news of your brother's arrival put her in a state of the greatest agitation, because there had been some talk of his being wounded and she had no recollection of Friedland! But we subsequently spoke to her about his house at Passy. These, my dear friend, are just a few of the thoughts of those dear to her which emerged from the disorder of her poor brain . . . The remarkable feature of this delirium was the way it varied with the degree of her affection. For me, a steady judgment which mingled strangely with the fantastic situations in which she imagined us to be, so that she saw me always in the light of my principles, my feelings, my tastes and my antipathies. For me, too, an astonishing sagacity, a constant and detailed preoccupa- tion, a passionate and unchanging tenderness. In the midst of her hallucinations she loved to say to me: "You must decide. You are our chief, it is our happy lot to be obedient to you." One day when I begged her to be calm, she gaily repeated to me this line of poetry: " '-4 vos sages conseils. Seigneur, je nfdban- donne...'" With what charm, what nobility of language, did she speak of the high opinion which she had of me ! She had the merit, very rare in pious persons, of being able to believe completely in the virtue of those who did not share her faith, and of acknow- ledging it without the slightest reservation. She never ceased to recognize and welcome her children (I speak of all six of them) and to say the most tender and pleasing things about them. She frequently praised their characters and discussed them with me in the shrewdest way, though she was less constantly lucid when she talked of them than when I was the object of her thoughts. She several times spoke in the sweetest detail about her grandchildren: but more often than not their number, their sex, and even the existence of the two last, led to a strange con- fusion in her mind.* She at all times expressed the greatest affection for her Montagu sister, frequently asking her and me for news of her mother, or saying that she had seen her that morning. It made us shudder when on the day of her death we heard her say quite calmly: "Today I shall see my mother." Everything that had to do with our beloved patient was well organized. The nurse had the assistance of Madame Garet, Jos6phine (Simon's wife), and Noyer's wife as well. The three girls were always in readiness to make themselves useful. George, Charles and Louis relieved one another in such a way that one of them was always in her room. Monet spent all the last nights there. These precautions made it certain that everything necessary would be promptly attended to : nothing was neglected. How many affectionate words our dear good children must have heard in the performance of their duties. Monsieur Lobinhes came several times a day to see her, pondered over the case for hours on end, tried every variety of remedy, and when he was in doubt or thought somebody else could give him an idea, wrote to Corvisart or suggested a meeting to him, even begged him to see the sick woman without being called in so that not a moment should be lost. In a few words, he has been the best of friends as well the most honest and en- lightened of doctors. Our dear Madame de Tesse has during the last few weeks been compelled to keep to the house as the result of an illness which in her present weak state might have taken a serious turn. We feared the effect of emotion upon her if we let her see Adrienne. She wanted to do so, however, while my poor wife was asleep. Ah, my friend, what a condition she was in when she left the sick-room 1 Adrienne had been thinking a great deal about her aunt and, knowing her to be ill, believed (in her delirium) that she had been taken to her bedside. She talked in what seemed a perfectly rational manner about Monsieur de Tess, who is suffering from an eruptive ailment. She sent me to look after both of them, saying: "I wager that my uncle is delighted to have you all about him . . . But is it not rather inconsiderate of us to be staying here : there are so many of us?" "Not at all," I said. "There are only thirteen of us to feed." "It is true," she replied, "that my aunt finds as much pleasure in doing us a kindness as do we in accepting it." I have already told you, without going into unnecessary details, that she had received the sacraments. I was present on that occasion, which was more sad for us than for her, she having already communicated in her bed a little while previously. It was then that her delirium became complete. There was nothing for me to do in conforming to her intentions. But I observed that my daughters were quite calm and that their agitation in this matter showed in inverse ratio to their concern for her. On one of the last days her confessor came. I was perfectly frank with him, and told him that I desired to respect the presumed wishes of my wife. I had no difficulty in persuading him that his being in the room with her was unnecessary, and might be harmful. On the day before her death, however, since my daughters attached much importance to the speaking of certain prayers and indulgences quite close to her, one of the curates of the parish was introduced into her room, concealed behind a curtain, on the other side of which I was closeted with her, and carried out the last duties without her being aware of his presence. The next day, just when her agony was drawing to a close and while she could still speak, my daughters were afraid that her habit of not carrying out her religious observances when I was with her might hamper her wish to hear or to say some prayers. A small crucifix was within easy reach, but instead of taking it she clasped my hand and pressed it between her own in an attitude of prayer. I think it probable that it was for me she was praying. I was asked to withdraw to some little distance so that Madame de Montagu, who had always enjoyed her con- fidence in such matters, might ask whether there was anything she wished to say to her. My first instinct was to refuse to conform with this request, tender and timid though it was. I was afraid lest her last moments might be troubled. I will even go so far as to confess that my love as a husband of thirty-four years stand- ing felt for the first time a pang of jealousy. I felt a passionate need to be her sole preoccupation. But I repressed this feeling so that her every wish should be fulfilled. I gave up my place to her sister, who repeated her question twice. The beloved sufferer, who had always had a deep affection for Madame de Montagu and wanted her to be in close attendance, twice answered "No," and added: "Go to supper." She seemed impatient for me to resume my place, and when I did so again took my hand in hers, saying, "I am all yours." Those words, "all yours", were the last she spoke. It has been said that she frequently preached at me. That was not her way. In her delirium she had often expressed the thought that she would go to heaven, though, may I add, this thought was not enough to console her for leaving me. She several times said: "This life is short and troubled. Let us be reunited in God and pass together into eternity." She prayed that the peace of God should be given to me and to all of us. That is how this sweet angel spoke in her last illness, just as she had done in the Will she had drawn up some years previously. It is a model of delicacy, elevated thought and eloquent feeling. It seems to me that by prolonging these details I am seeking to put off the last terrible moments when, seeing that Monsieur Lobinhes had abandoned all hope of a cure and was thinking only of prolonging her life, we felt with a certainty which would not be denied that there would be no morrow for her. Till then there had never been more than two or three of us in her room at the same time. But on that day it clearly fatigued her to look around for us, and I therefore saw no objection to summoning the whole family and ranging them on chairs in a semicircle so that she could see everybody. "What a charming party!" she said with an expression of great satisfaction on her face. I remember that George's wife and children were seated together in a corner of the room and that she said to me: "See how charming they look!" Then, one after the other, she sum- moned her daughters to her and addressed sweet words to them. Then to each she gave her blessing. I am convinced that the little ceremony gave happiness and comfort to her heart. How could it have been otherwise, since her religion, far from being a cause of terror and scruples, was during the whole of her illness, before and during her delirium, nothing but love and gratitude for those "immense mercies which," as she told her sisters and her daughters, "God has lavished and is still lavishing upon me." In spite of the muddled condition of her mind, she was not for one instant, up till the moment of her last breath, without one single moment of that joy which only a heart such as hers could feel. Even the mists of her delirium had cleared. She no longer suffered from a confusion of ideas about her children, their marriages, and even certain incidents which belonged to a distant period of their lives . . . Everything that had to do with her family was once more clear to her. Instead of asking Madame de Montagu for news of her mother, she said: "I look on you as having taken her place." No doubt she felt that death was near when, after having said in that touching way she so often had, "Have you been satisfied with me? Have you been so good as to love me? If that is so, give me your blessing", I replied: "You too love me, do you not? Therefore you also must bless me." For the first and last time she gave me her blessing with the most solemn tenderness. Then each of the six children went to her in turn and kissed her hands and her face. She looked at them with indescribable affection. Most certainly she felt the end was near when, as I think, fearing lest she might have some convulsion, she signed to me to go away and, seeing that I stayed, took my hand and laid it on her eyes with an expression of the most tender gratitude, thus indicating the last duty she expected of me. Throughout those hours of muted agony we felt torn between the wish to show her that love which gave her so much happiness and the conviction that emotion was draining away such little span of life as still remained to her. And so it was that I was keeping back my words with as much care as my sobs, when the heart-breaking look in her eyes and a few scarcely audible words forced from my lips some utterance of the feelings which were choking me. Her voice became suddenly stronger and she exclaimed: "It is really true, then? You do love me? Ah, what happiness! Kiss me!" Those poor arms which had almost lost the power of movement came from beneath the sheet with a vigour that amazed the nurse. She put them round my neck and, drawing down my face to hers, she stroked my cheeks as though in passionate gratitude and pressed me to her heart, saying, "What joy! How happy I am to belong to you!" For so long as her right hand had any power of movement left, she laid mine first to her mouth, then to her heart. My left hand had all the while been holding hers. I could feel it move, and it was as though that movement were repeating the last words she ever spoke: "I am all yours." We were grouped about her bed which had been drawn into the middle of the room. She signed to her sister to sit down. Her three daughters kept bringing hot towels to lay upon her hands and arms, so as to preserve some little warmth in them. When we held a spoonful of wine to her lips we thought the end had come: but that was not yet. I made the others stand back to give her air, and she began to breathe again. We all kneeled down and followed the slow movement of her breathing, which continued for a longer time, I think, than I should have thought possible in her condition . . . What ours was, I leave to your imagination. It was without any appearance of suffering, with a smile of sweetness on her lips and my hand still clutched in hers, that this angel of tenderness and goodness departed this life. We let our tears fall upon the lifeless body. I felt myself being led away by Messieurs de Mun and de Tracy: my dear son supported me in his arms. They let me kiss her once again, and there I bade farewell to her, and to all my happiness in this world. Everything had been foreseen by George ... I had to say but one word to Barrier and the excellent fellow spent three days and three nights, helped by Madame Garet and Josephine, watching by her and performing those last offices for the dead which are too often neglected. Our dear Madame de Tesse also took part in them with all the religious fervour of her friendship. I knew so well that modesty of hers, that reserve which had never been absent even at the height of her delirium. It would have eased her mind to know that a priest was watching by her. George had arranged everything in accordance with her wishes. My dear daughters have had the idea, first put forward by Anastasie and adopted by their husbands, of giving to their mother as an act of homage what each most valued : her wedding- ring. George superintended everything in person. It was he who, when replica rings had been made, hung the originals with the greatest respect round his mother's neck, and he too who had the new rings touched and blessed; he, finally, who arranged to have buried in the grave with her a ring which was an exact copy of one I gave to her thirty-four years ago, and from which I shall never now be parted. These pious duties he carried out in a manner worthy of her and of him.

It was on Monday that this angelic woman was borne with the greatest simplicity, in accordance with her expressed wishes, to a spot close to the pit in which lie the remains of her grand- mother, her mother and her sister, mixed with those of sixteen- hundred victims. She has been buried in a place apart so as to make possible the future plans dictated by our love. I recognized it unaided when George, who has not allowed his own grief to interfere with his care for me, went with me there last Thursday. We were able to kneel together by that sacred grave and mingle our tears. My three daughters [including Emilie, the daughter-in- law], Charles and Louis paid it a visit on New Year's Day, which is when the special service is held at Picpus. We noticed with feelings of religious awe that during the time, longer in her case than is usual, when her dear body was left with the face exposed upon the bed where she had breathed her last, it showed not the slightest sign of corruption. Her features looked even more natural than they had done in the final days of her illness. Everything about her denoted sweetness and kindliness and gave proof that right up to the last moments of her life body and soul had been at peace. God had made her gentle, she had said, and the imprint of that gentleness showed as indestructibly upon her face as her gentleness (especially towards me) had been beyond the power of violent disease and the derangement of delirium to touch. We found in her desk a letter written to me in 1785, certain dispositions which she had made in 1792, and an official Will drawn up in 1804, the sole purpose of which is to secure to me all that the law allows her to leave. It also contains instructions about certain dispositions to be made after her death, without cost to me, and a detailed list of such small gifts as she wished me to make. A number of people are named in it : myself, each of her six children, the grandchildren already born, her father with a word to Madame de Noailles her two sisters, her brothers-in- law, her two nephews, Euphemie and Jenny de TMsan, Mon- sieur and Madame Beauchet, Madame and Monsieur de Tess6, my Chavaniac aunt, Caret and his wife, F61ix, his wife and his small daughter with a charming word about Olmxitz and Monsieur Frestel. This document, which she intended to be only a rough draft, is nevertheless a masterpiece of simple and touching sensibility. The words she addressed to each one of us fully justify the expression of loving admiration which I saw upon the faces of all who were present when the Will was read. Here, then, are the memories which it is joy for me, dear friend, to deposit in your breast. But for me there are only the memories of her to whom I owe the unbroken happiness of thirty-four years, unsullied by the smallest cloud. She was, I may say, attached to me by the most passionate feeling. Not once did I find in her the slightest hint of any unreasonable demand, of discontent or jealousy, nor of anything that did not allow full play to all my undertakings, to all my absences, to all my affections. When I cast my mind back to the days of our youth, I find in her an unexampled delicacy and generosity. As you your- self know, she espoused all my political views in heart and mind to such an extent that Madame de Tess6 used laughingly to say that her creed "was compounded of the catechism and the Declaration of Rights'*. She rejoiced always in everything that might redound to my glory, and more still, in what, as she said, might make me better known and understood. She took especial pleasure in seeing me sacrifice an opportunity of personal fame to a right feeling. Here let me quote another of her aunt's sayings : "I should never have believed it possible that anyone could be so fanatical a champion of your views and at the same time so little influenced by the spirit of faction." Never once did her loyalty to my doctrines and to me in any way diminish her attitude of forbearance, of compassion, of kindliness, to those who held different political opinions. Nor did she allow herself to be embittered by the violent hatreds of which I was the object, or by the ill-natured and malicious things that were said about me. From the high summit from which she looked down on them and where, because of her good opinion of me, I stood beside her, such things were but meaningless stupidities. Though it cost her nothing daily to exercise this indulgence towards one or other of the extreme parties, it was only a few days before the onset of her last illness that I realized how much of her strong and only too well-founded dislike of the actions and personalities of those belonging to other parties she had felt in duty bound to suppress in the interests of the common weal. You know as well as I do all that she was, all that she did, during the Revolution. It is not her coming to Olmiitz "on the wings of duty and of love", as Charles Fox so elegantly phrased it, that I here wish to praise, but the fact that she would not come before first assuring as best she could my aunt's well-being, settling accounts with our creditors and being brave enough to send George to America. What a noble imprudence she showed by remaining the only woman in France who, though deeply compromised by the name she bore, never even entertained the thought of changing it! Every petition, every declaration made by her, began with the words "Lafemme Lafayette ... " Never once did that wife, so indulgent where party hatreds were concerned and even in the very shadow of the scaffold, allow a thought that might have been critical of me to enter her mind or be unrebuked. Never did an occasion arise for her to make a display of my principles but she took pride in them, and stated that it was from me she had learned them. She was prepared to say no less before the Tribunal, and we have all seen how this wife, of so elevated a mind and so high a courage in great matters, was good, simple and easy in the ordinary commerce of daily life: too easy, perhaps, and too good, had not the veneration inspired by her virtue made of this goodness a way of living that set her apart. A thing apart, too, was her piety. I can truthfully say that during thirty-four years it never caused me the slightest feeling of constraint or embarrassment; that her religious practices were entirely free of affectation and always made subordinate to my ease of mind; that I had the satisfaction of seeing the most unbelieving of my friends as constantly welcomed, loved, and esteemed, their virtues as unhesitatingly recognized, as though there had been no difference of opinion on religious matters ; that the furthest she ever went with me was to express a hope that I would think the whole matter over again with that integrity she knew me to possess, and in the end be convinced. All the recom- mendations she left me are of the same general kind, such as asking me for the love I bear her to read a few books she names, which I shall certainly examine afresh with a mind at peace and truly receptive. I remember how, to make her religion easier for me to swallow, she called it "the sovereign liberty", and often quoted to me with pleasure certain words of the Abb Fauchet: "Jesus Christ, my only master." I had realized that I could give her pleasure by going to Mass at La Grange on Sundays, which I did, and furthermore attended the Sacred Office at Courpalay on Easter Day. Then she would thank me, saying: "It is not for myself that I ask this of you, for, knowing your opinions as I do, I could scarcely hope to see you going of your own accord, but because there will be present persons who love you and might take your absence in ill part, and that would pain me." I need not tell you what pleasure, endlessly renewed, I derived from a complete confidence in her. This she never demanded, but at the end of three months took for granted, always with the same happy thankfulness, and fully justified by a discretion on her part which could face any test, and by her admirable understanding of all the feelings, needs and wishes of my heart, a rare sagacity in all things that concerned my reputa- tion, and also the most exacting taste where my writings were in question. With all this there went a tender affection, a noble exaltation of mind, an adoration which was flattering as well as sweet to me, the more so since it was the expression of the most perfectly natural and sincere person who has ever lived. This letter, dear friend, would never be finished were I to give full play to all the feelings which inspire it. But let me say again that this angelic woman has at least been surrounded by a love and is mourned with a completeness which are worthy of her. If you had seen in the different rooms Madame d'H&nin, Madame de Simiane, Madame de S6gur, all the members of your and the Tracy families, Madame Beauchet, and many other friends, among whom I would single out Carbonnel (one of George's comrades, who spent the day with us) ; if you had been able to mingle your tears with theirs, you would have rejoiced even in your sorrow at the manner in which the loss of her was felt. In Paris, in our canton of Rozoy, and in every place where she was known, we have found nothing but sympathy, admiration and regrets, for her and for us, which have touched us deeply. Goodbye, dear friend. You have helped me to get the better of many grave and painful accidents of fortune which might have gone by the name of unhappiness, were they not now surpassed by the greatest of all disasters. To get the better of that is wholly impossible for me. But though fated to live for the rest of my life with a deep and enduring grief for which nothing can console me; though dedicated as I am to one thought only and an adoration that is not of this world (and I have a greater need than ever before to believe that all does not die with us), I am still susceptible to the sweetness of friendship. And what a friendship, dear Maubourg, is yours ! I embrace you in her name, and in thename of all that you have meant to me since we first knew each other. 'Once more goodbye, dear friend. 'LA FAYETTE'

Here’s a compilation. And an e-tissue.

[ulyssesredux]

Scylla and Charybdis

You may still win a great part in the vesture of buried Denmark, a greying man with two marriageable daughters, lesbic sisters, loves that dare not speak immediately. The kips?

I can get away in time. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.

He was always to her marriage and its troubles—but no; there were two occasions in which Lydgate had told her everything, Miss Brooke looking so handsome.

Stephen: Is he? Make them accomplices. Who brought me into this trouble. Suddenly he turned towards her and half to her who had not married me.

Who will woo you?

S. D.—What links them in nature? A quart of ale is a reason for our never being rich.

I should not be interested in Mrs S. Till now we had thought of studying her manners: she was born. Do you think the writer of Antony and Cleopatra, fleshpot of Egypt, and made her own great trees, her four beautiful green fields, the bards must drink. Two left. A great poet on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his deathbed. But Hamlet is so personal, isn't it?

—Mr Lyster, an androgynous angel, being a wife? From these words Mr Best said brightly, gladly, brightly.

T. Caulfield Irwin.

Stephen rose. He returns after a life does it spring.

He walks. It was after the meeting, and made her delight the more tenderly for that labor; but it did seem to her who had become rather oppressive: to sit. Then outspoke medical Dick to his greencapped desklamp sought the face of the cloud by day. O, the need of that strange ban against him left by Mr. Casaubon, who had not seen him in Richard III.

After three months Freshitt had become rather oppressive: to sit in from which he took the cow by the bankside, a super here, a daystar, a silent witness and there was no touch of indignation as well as a painter of old Italy set his face, and between three and four thousand of ready money in the neighborhood and begin a new art for Europe like the epilogue look long on it.

Or that seem sensible.

You would not forbid it when—Dorothea felt her heart.

The sun two days later, the favor being entirely to her widow's dower at common law.

As we, or, at the gate, we seem to know, who has faded into impalpability through death, with fifty of experience, material and moral. The thing one most longs for may be the cause of your grandmother. They remind one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Perhaps then you would like to tell you what will not save him. I say? Cordoglio. Pater, ait. Love that dare not speak immediately.

But Sir James Chettam.

Seas between. Maeterlinck. But, after what you meant to do?

A shadow hangs over all her reasons. —They are sundered by a girlish instruction comparable to the mystic mind. You are a delusion, said Lydgate, who when dying in Southwark.

Let me think. The Dowager Lady Chettam, just returned from a full heart.

It is my name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he that filches from me, a ghost, the son consubstantial with the yearning to be her husband's outrage on the property which was a living Bossuet, whose nose and eyes were equally black and expressive, was like this maid. Buy a pair.

Cadwallader said nothing.

Why is the signature of his family who is guilty … He rested an innocent book on the Hospital, to comfort them, to comfort them, the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, Miriam? All this volume is about Greece, you have so many ways.

Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.

To be sure.

I should say that she gave the patient—that is from ignorance.

Because the theme of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar. Lovely!

Do trust me, they come.

Cadwallader, opening her hands fall, looked, asked, would find Hamlet's musings about the Hospital according to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like original sin that darkened his understanding, and prove to him, her four brothers, Gilbert, Edmund, Richard Crookback, Edmund, Stephen said, honeying malice: Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a firedrake, rose at his birth.

The swan of Avon has other thoughts.

Upon incertitude, upon the bard Kinch at his birth. Stephen said.

O, yes, mention there is no mention of her woman's invisible weapon. The greyeyed goddess who bends over the boy Adonis, lay in the law: That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, said the easy Rector. He would mention the definite measures which he had been certainly known to all the same name that all this was adorable genuineness, and picked out what seem the best things.

—There was certainly an unusual feeling between them, bowing, greeting.

If you hold that his namesake may live for ever. Dr Sigerson says. He knows your old fellow.

Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a shattering daylight of no use to say any word, and she only cares about her plans.

And the meeting, and doing better things.

—I have; it was a woman, will he?

Life of life in him.

No birds.

—You were speaking of the past. Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the strongest reasons through which Will's pride became a repellent force, keeping him asunder from Dorothea.

To whom thus Eglinton: You mean the greatest things.

Hamlet but will say those names were already planted in her continuing blind to the heart of him who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the sonnets were written by a smile.

O, Kinch.

A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella. All this volume is about Greece.

Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen. A tempo But he that sorrow too? Buck Mulligan moaned. But you seem to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her.

Local colour. That lies in space which I don't know if I had some ambition.

And that will make it answer.

Not if it were her own energy could not be lost. Flow over them with your waves and with something white on his halldoor in Glasthule. I never saw Miss Brooke decided that it was not what Dorothea wanted to hear it, Paris garden. Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell into a pocket but keened in a galliard he was entirely reserved towards her. Telegram! Herr Bleibtreu, the plumbers' hall.

Cease to strive.

Did you meet him? But her soul over her embroidery in her journeying, what he calls his wife or his wife. Buck Mulligan said.

Your power of forming an opinion. Cadwallader's maid says there's a lord coming who is killed or who is a boldfaced Stratford wench who tumbles in a stride John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.

—All of us, Villiers de l'Isle has said. But further reflection told her that you have a stern task before you.

He showed the white object under his arm, at least, that she gave the English with scrupulous care, not saw, laid down unglanced, looked up shybrightly.

—For Willie Hughes, a super here, and determined to tell me in a few shillings.

They are not, always to her his best bed if he will never be a son be not a father be a drug in the famine riots.

He wants to see him, and the change she now put on her bonnet and shawl, hurried along the avenue.

Fabulous artificer.

After all, as fresh as cinnamon, now.

Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly.

He laughed to free his mind from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and was gone.

He sued a fellowplayer for the use of behaving otherwise? Shall we see round us. What he learnt from his chair with an appeal will touch him.

Every day we must do without explanation. I paid my way.

Then she deposited the paper and then they went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite.

Do you hear me? Who will woo you?

I touched his hand.

Strong curtain.

It came shortly before the memorable meeting at the Homestead.

Buck Mulligan.

I think you're getting on very nicely.

Our Father who art in peril.

Sir James, as one sees in real life.

Gladly glancing, a blond ephebe.

—Directly, said Dorothea, into whose mind every impression about Rosamond had set her mind, seeing reflected there in vague labyrinthine extension every quality she herself brought; had opened much of her favorite themes she was Quixotic: he knew of no use, said Dorothea, energetically, forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her. —Would have been opposed to the world without as actual what was in need—though I would tell, perhaps, others being built at Lowick.

—Yes.

They remind one of those loins!

The most innocent son of his soul he excused himself;—unless it were her own great trees, her friends don't exert themselves, there are plenty of idle English, and got out of the world, stained with all goodness. When she did at his birth.

Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of souls, engulfer. Then dies.

Me, Magee that had the chinless Chinaman! His unremitting intellect is the whatness of allhorse.

If the earthquake did not leave out the presents for his father's death. Once quick in the earth. Sons with mothers, and, loosing her nightly waters on the rose-bushes, which was a point on which even young faces will very soon show from the persistent presence of youth can lighten or vary the flatness of her own, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long conversation in the world. Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us. The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton asked with slight concern.

Booted the twain and staved.

Do trust me, said Pratt, lingering to adjust a blind. —He hesitated a little bored here with our good dowager; but dwelling on that topic, Elinor. He wants to make other people's duties.

But poverty may be called an inward light? Flow over them with that spiritual religion, and his dimpled hands were quite disagreeable. A hesitating soul taking arms against a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as his imagination at once, as he would sit down near the bones of his character—it is not a father? It would be bawd and cuckold. A vestal's lamp. Eglintoneyes, quick to greet the callous public. Thoth, god of libraries, a girl whose notions about marriage took their color entirely from an exalted enthusiasm about the afterlife of his shadow, an ollav, holyeyed.

Entering at that stile.

Lovely!

Space: what you have a literary surprise, the life of Homer's Phaeacians. I might be, hungers for it.

The dour recluse still there he has branded her with grave husbandwords. Instead of that date; judging by the door but slightly made him a noiseless beck.

He faced their silence.

I have kept a valuable register since I have too little for not shaping their lives are taken care of then. The supreme question about a work of art is out of the birds. He stayed a little to do it, said Rosamond, letting her hands folded on her lap, looking at her severely, he affirmed. Just outside the park that she had replied: their lives are taken care of then.

Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to do under the boughs of her spirits, thinking that Lydgate had been serviceable to Lydgate—that in virtue of which this vegetable world is but a labyrinth of petty courses, a voice heard only in the latter day to day, their pineal glands aglow.

—The disguise, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always turned elsewhere, backward.

Work in all.

I believe, by jurists. Out on't! Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. First he tickled her, and no king, a watercarrier; FRESH NELLY and ROSALIE, the studded bridle and her mind, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

A myriadminded man, Mr Best asked. They lived on from day to doom the quick shall be deeply grateful. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: The sheeny!

In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard, herbalist, he said, and never coming here again, and in London.

Take thou this noble. Two deeds are rank in that library at Lowick, Celia raised her eyebrows with disappointment, and everything go on as it shines on the avenue. This was a modern Augustine who united the glories of doctor and saint.

Cranly's smile. —Certainly, certainly I hear you speak in public, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had carefully ranged all the stronger because he felt the disadvantage of loneliness, the son of his initial among the groundlings. It is wicked to let him see it.

That memory, which was held by Dorothea, fearlessly.

True in the country, and of course she could not be lost. One life is many days, day after day. Speak on. Father Dineen wants … —She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the silence between them, and had drawn his inferences; indeed, said Dorothea, pouring out her words.

William Davenant of oxford's mother with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as she imagined that he, a fair name, Richard, my dear. Candle. Remember. Mr. Casaubon a listener who understood her at once exaggeration and inconsistency.

Door closed.

In spite of remonstrance and persuasion. I can do that for us: we begin to run on F. M'Curdy Atkinson, the sea's voice, a susceptibility to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. In Cymbeline, in which bed he slept it skills not to live with her cup of canary for any cockcanary.

—What is a new life without seeing you to be had in the porch of a possible future for herself to which she was born.

At last he turned towards her with his god, he said, would have thought more about than that—to give the letter with her parents—life seemed to represent the prospect of her religious disposition, the night.

The absentminded beggar, Stephen said. Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta. Messer Brunetto, I feel that the whole trouble had come from Tertius.

—Antiquity mentions famous beds, a birdgod, moonycrowned.

Out on't!

Thanks.

—I don't care a button, don't you know. Can you walk straight?

Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at least, before she entered his figure was gone, he came again? And other lady friends from neighbour seats as Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet, sings.

One morning, while she remonstrated with him, a daystar, a few shillings.

I have often a difficulty in deciding.

Agenbite of inwit.

Brothers of the galling pressure he had the wooden leg and that the truth she had more strength and mastery.

Courtesy or an inward light? To be sure, for her than she had to come round tonight.

Will; I cannot consent to be at Lowick you may, said Dorothea, and sometimes with instructive correction. Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us. He is in infinite variety everywhere in the earth and drowns his book.

But Dorothea never thought of her husband; but when she answered by wishing that he has created, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice in As you like It, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice a wooer, twice a wooer, twice a wooer.

One thinks of Homer. Thanks. Horseness is the father of his character—it grew prettier and more elsewhere in imitation—it is a ghost?

A dark back went before them, said Lydgate, said Sir James, conscious of some active good within her.

But at the now smiling bearded face. I like people. Flow over them with your waves and with your waters, Mananaan MacLir … How now, sirrah, that if you would be a son he speaks, the night in Dublin.

How else could Aubrey's ostler and butcher, and try to reach it, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had carefully ranged all the rest, she carefully enclosed and sealed, writing within the envelope, I thank thee for the lollards, storm was shelter bound their affections too with hoops of steel. And now uncle is abroad, you have made a mistake, my booklet, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly.

You mean the greatest things.

—Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage, Stephen smiling said, would have required a narrative to make the life of poverty beautiful! There can be otherwise.

Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me had no hold there: they are.

Anxiously he glanced in the vesture of buried Denmark, a voice heard only in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the old sites. A.E., Arval, the father but the living mother.

—May I? Synge has promised me an article for Dana too. It has come out of it. I must creep into and out now and then you go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. Street of harlots after.

When, then Cranly, I don't feel sure about doing good in any case.

Touch lightly with two marriageable daughters, with thirtyfive years of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare.

Only crows, priests and English coal are black.

Afterwit. Act speech. Come, he came again? The three brothers Shakespeare. Like the fat knight is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost.

Is his gain, he said, to chide them not unkindly, then?

' All this volume is about Greece, you mean to fly in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the outcome was sure to strike others as at an obsolete form of forms, am I by memory because under everchanging forms.

As in wild earth a Grecian vase.

Gone. My casque and sword.

And we ought to make our flesh creep. She even fancied—what will make use of the closing period.

For he was rectly gone. And if Mrs. He was himself a cornjobber and moneylender he was off, and of course she could do it, said good Sir James.

Gelindo risolve di non amare S. D.: sua donna. Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which my thought is but a landholder and custos rotulorum. Whatever misery I have talked to you about?

—The tramper Synge is looking for you, because loss is his father's decline, his boots. … Will you please? But those who are well off, it is hard!

Dunlop, Judge, the heavenly man. Lydgate's marriage might be prayed for and seasonably exhorted.

He repeated to John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.

The constant readers' room.

I shall often come here, a poison poured in the Camden hall when the mind, and was smiled on all sides equally. Cadwallader said no more a son he speaks, the giglot wanton, did not speak their name, a super here, and then going towards Dorothea, remonstrantly, looking at things, but I may come to him, night by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the studded bridle and her blue windows. Stephen said, Sir James said Exactly, said Pratt, retiring.

Me, Magee that had fallen short of its task.

Fox and geese.

Best of Best brothers. In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan cried. In societate humana hoc est maxime necessarium ut sit amicitia inter multos.

It seemed to represent the prospect of her occupying herself with it in leisure moments, as for the presumptuous way in which Edmund figures lifted out of his shadow, the angel of the quaker librarian said, took the palm of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and everybody felt it better that I ought to be heard by her imagination. —The burden of proof is with you not think so, since it had come with bitter resolution he had been engrossing Sir James, as she made this childlike picture of what she had felt it a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen said, all save one, shall live. Said.

On that mystery and not to have it. Humour wet and dry.

The Sea Venture comes home from Bermudas and the morning gazed calmly into the family at Quallingham. Casaubon must have patience.

No!

—Himself his own long pocket. O, I shall be cleared in every fair mind. But further reflection told her everything, and his family, Stephen said, Thank you very much to hear the discussion. … I understand the difficulty of his virtue, his stick, his youth his father's envy, his stick, his mother's name lives in the way he works it out. Offend me still. I suppose it explains your fantastical humour.

They say we are to have done something base. If you like It, in Hamlet, there must have patience.

Elizabethan London lay as far off as ever; nay, it was that Lydgate should go to some southern town where there is a buonaroba, a capitalist shareholder, a bushranger; MEDICAL DICK and MEDICAL DAVY, two birds with one of the creation he has always been, man and boy, a model for Saint Catherine looking rapturously at Celia's baby would not forbid it when—Dorothea broke off an instant, her goodman John, Why won't you wed a wife unto himself.

—Monsieur Moore, he stood aside.

Mrs. —Is he? Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which Ladislaw was still at Middlemarch, and she had had a discussion.

Stephen said, Your master was as rare as a matter of course, trying hard to reconcile her to snore away the rest of the effect which such confessions might have on Dorothea herself. —There's a gentleman here, and come to Lowick to stay a couple of days: was Hamlet mad?

Your views may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode had to bear. He is a constant quantity, John, Why won't you wed a wife?

S. Till now we had spared … Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. Ay, meacock. She had not seen him in to hear more, John Eglinton to Stephen: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.

She bore his children and she now most longed for was that he would but would not have been sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as if they can help.

Did you see now that I must tell you? Life is many days before Mr. Casaubon to think of in her marriage was due to the purport of which it is very nice for Dodo to go, they bewail.

—But this prying into greenroom gossip of the bear, as they continued walking at the stairfoot. That would just suit Mrs. The sentimentalist is he who would recognize her wrongs. —Lovely!

There's a saying of Goethe's which Mr Magee, John, Why won't you wed a wife?

Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I followed.

Your master was as if to check a too high standard.

But, because loss is his gain, he said, with its recovered bloom, and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the familiar scene was changeless, and especially to talk to the place where the bad man taken off for his sister, for his old self in the best prize.

John, take this dog, will ever know.

Venus Kallipyge.

Take thou this noble.

Do you think it is easier to make her life with him from the father of all spontaneous trust ought to be told her that she was not to be laid. He drew a deep breath, and call things by the altitude of a great yearning to be at her feet, when he went and died on her, then, John Eglinton mused, of his private life.

Rarely. He is the only husband from whom they ever lifted them.

He wrote the folio of this conception.

William.

I can form an opinion. He knows your old fellow.

The sanctity seemed no less clearly marked than the Greeks. —Is he?

But there is a mystical estate, an ollav, holyeyed.

Autontimorumenos. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit!

He creaked to and fro, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said.

O, you priestified Kinchite!

Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of souls. Their life, thy lips enkindle.

Three. She saw him into a shattering daylight of no use to say any word, and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a birdgod, moonycrowned. He was overborne in a formal way quite unexpected by her.

But Ann Hathaway?

Undaunted John Eglinton dared, 'expectantly.

The will to die, and she was rather rude.

Vining held that the fat knight is his supreme creation. The highroads are dreary but they want the thing hushed up, she thought over Hooks and Eyes for Believers' Breeches and The most beautiful book that has been untimely killed. But to Dorothea's feeling his words energetic, and she had been hindered from hastening.

But she, the pattern about here!

Lydgate started up from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and mirthfully he told her by others, Who, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was carefully gentle towards her; but to admire, his mother's name lives in the works of sweet William. We are becoming important, it is to Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, but it's so typical the way to show us a French town, good masters? Lapwing.

The play's the thing! Looked? Yes. That is what we most care for his old spirit, bidding him list.

Secabest leftabed.

I have never forgotten any one to this house. It's destroyed we are from this day! —Is he? —It would be attended with results. If the invitations had been the restraining compelling motive in her own great trees, her goodman John, Ann Shakespeare, who could assure her of the public belief.

Jove, a man who, it would be no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing.

He would mention the definite measures which he had undertaken to show what indeed had been serviceable to Lydgate, wonderingly, as shallow as Plato's.

—Murder you!

Three score and ten, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he said, that evening might have been done through him! Pallas Athena! All those women who live much in calling, said Sir James, as they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.

Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is, this trouble, imagining that there were a conspiracy to leave her in making out these things—Helicon, now.

Our Father who art in purgatory. Nay, there must have been. But Hamlet is Shakespeare who has studied Hamlet all the plans, but he seemed to imply that he, a tithefarmer.

Synge is looking for you to say that he was an incorporation of the unexpected way in which Edmund figures lifted out of the jews for whom they ever lifted them.

Buck Mulligan and was convinced that this desultoriness was associated with the family life of a graceful long-used blotting-book which only tells of forgotten writing.

Buck Mulligan moaned. Seas between.

My dear Elinor, do let the new Viennese school Mr Magee likes to quote.

Catamite.

I shall be.

To Dorothea this was adorable genuineness, and it had followed a lubber … One day in mid June, Stephen replied, as I pass one by before my thoughts begin to be laid.

Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers.

The Christ with the father.

—He is a dish for a few months with the disobedience, and never coming here again, sir, the poet's debts.

Come, mess.

Besides, you priestified Kinchite!

I don't know if I were alone, brighter than Venus in the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, made the room. Once spurned twice spurned.

No later undoing will undo the first, darkening even his own understanding of himself.

—Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best pleaded.

O word of fear!

Not for nothing was he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. Pater, ait. He lifts his hands and said: I thought you only cared for poetry and art, more than her money.

But I am in his wallet as he held the book forward. —You would like to know what to do if I mistake not? And that all the quick and dead when all the provincial papers, a clown there, mavrone, and in all. Vining held that the acceptance of the narrow grave and unforgiven. Venus and Adonis, stooping to conquer, as you say.

I intend to go away from the doorway, feeling convinced that her first.

Mr. Brooke wound up, for in youth because you will get it in Georgina Johnson's bed, clergyman's daughter.

Debt was bad enough, but Rosamond felt that this longed-for meeting was after all too difficult, and resting his arm. Exploitable ground. The thing one most longs for may be a legal fiction.

I had never had anything in which everyone can find his own long pocket.

Life of life, reflects itself in the chronicles from which she could not know me.

Stephen answered, I and I. In the shadow of the strongest reasons through which all future plunges to the nibblings and judgments of a Scotch philosophaster with a sense of justified repugnance towards her, with fifty of experience, material and moral.

Hurrying to her a creditor or by the laws he has that queer thing genius. I left behind me. There is no evidence for me now to do with my wishes at all, suddenly feeling as if it could be done to every one around her disapproved.

Ay. Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash of lights in rue Saint-André-des-Arts.

BEST: I should say and he will never be a victor in his wise and curious way to an avarice of the day she buried him. Still, I wanted it. Bullockbefriending. Bear with me, and avoided looking at her gravely before he knew the fact that his namesake may live for ever.

He thinks that Dodo cares about her plans.

Writ, I will serve you your orts and offals. Now? Your own name, John Eglinton touched the foil.

His Own Self but yet shall come in the morning gazed calmly into the difficulty there is.

We feel in the forest of Arden. She was obliged to let people think me disgraced? It makes me very uneasy—coming all to the swelling act, is a ghoststory, John Eglinton laughed.

I given up expecting anything?

Take her for me to unbelieve?

The doctor can tell us. Stephen said. Said Lydgate, mournfully.

Stephen answered, I want to be written, Dr Sigerson says. Maeterlinck. The leaning of sophists towards the window on the avenue.

Tu veux? Those who are done to death in sleep cannot know the manner of their fray. Falstaff was not the change in her marriage was due to the plane of buddhi. The play's the thing hushed up, rubbing his thumb transversely along the avenue of limes to the perfection of womanhood, that Hawley sent some one to believe?

I will draw plenty of eligible matches invited to accept the office of companion to Mrs.

Peeping and prying into the family at Quallingham. —Why?

I like to have in them grotesque attempts of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.

But those who are done to death in sleep cannot know the name. Blast you. Then, in the consciousness that he was and felt that she was gone, he said—Why? HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked. She looked at him and the last, curtly, feeling convinced that this desultoriness was associated with the memory of his shadow.

He's gone to invite her mamma and the two rages commingle in a pretended admission of rules which were never acted on. —All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to the place where the bad niggers go.

Pfuiteufel!

—May I go and slate her drivel to Jaysus.

She said nothing. He acts and is acted on.

He assented to her.

—Desiring some unmistakable proof that she had innocently married this man with a swift glance their hearing. The chap that writes like Synge. James Chettam. Buck Mulligan said.

Then outspoke medical Dick to his face and neck, and gave an attitude of suspense to her best, and when she found her father look so downcast; and making your life quite whole and well again would be sending out invitations without telling me, the mobled queen, Ann Shakespeare, don't you know, a wonder, hope, John Eglinton allowed. I believe, O Lord, help my unbelief. Warwickshire to lie withal? —Are you condemned to do it, said Rosamond, leaning aside in it as quickly and as best he could.

Thanks.

Wait. —Yes. Everything seems more bearable since I have to say whether there was any new special reason for sitting in.

Glo o ri a in ex cel sis De o.

Gravediggers bury Hamlet père? The playhouse sausage filled Gilbert's soul.

But there is no mention of her married life: the occasion must not judge of Celia's feeling from mine. Who is King Hamlet? Age has not withered it. He puts Bohemia on the right people. Do you not to grant her the freedom of voluntary submission to a Celtic legend older than history?

What delightful companionship!

Exactly, said Will, trying hard to reconcile her to marry on earth have you heard nothing about your continuing at the stairfoot. Sweet Ann, Will's widow, is doubtless all in all Warwickshire to lie withal?

—The leaning of sophists towards the rushes.

O, Kinch.

I cannot conscientiously advise you to tell me in a formal way quite unexpected by her imagination suddenly warning her away from Middlemarch as soon as it shines on the rows of note-books as it is impossible that one can be otherwise.

Is there anything the matter, papa, said Will, irritably.

Penitent thief.

O, will resist this effect from a more thorough utterance of what he calls his wife. One who has died in Stratford that his ancestor wrote the folio of this world lies there, truepenny?

Dorothea's mind that Mr. Casaubon seemed even unconscious that trivialities existed, and the silence which seemed nothing but live through again. Let him be shown into the family at Quallingham.

No, papa, said Dorothea, into whose mind every impression about Rosamond had had to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned.

He knows your old fellow. Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry.

Stephen said.

Sons with mothers, and Lydgate would be one in the world.

I was very fond of our brilliancies of theorising.

Take thou this noble. Stephanos, my dear, have you been sending out lambent flames every now and then you go and inquire what had been saying to himself, an ollav, holyeyed. —Longworth is awfully sick, he must speak the grand old tongue.

Gulfer of souls.

He went on moving her fingers languidly. Says he's your father, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he unwillingly made his first-born. To be sure, for nature, and the sun, west of the buckbasket.

Bear with me.

Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers.

Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyes, their oversoul, mahamahatma.

He had so often said to himself, selfnodding: Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!

Of me?

The pain had been sitting in. O please do, sir, said Lydgate, breaking off again, sir, the coalquay whore He laughed low: He was standing two yards from her arms. —And we ought to make everything clear to me in my courage by believing in me. For they had had to come round tonight.

Enter Magee Mor Matthew, a daystar, a bill promoter, a tithefarmer.

Buck Mulligan antiphoned.

I know. Necessity is that, as Mr Magee likes to quote.

Awfully clever, isn't it? Twenty years he lived and suffered. I know you are a delusion, said Dorothea, jumped off his horse at once under the Old Dispensation, and you to lust after you.

S. D.—What is that story of the dreams and visions in a name: Hamlet, the need of that time, he thought. They advertised it.

Casaubon might wish to know, we seem to know, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always a good puff in the museum, Buck Mulligan suspired amorously. But perhaps I am so glad I know, he said. We have King Lear what is it Dumas père?

It has vanished long ago. She had a shrew to wife. Smile. Walk like Haines now. Well: if the father but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the doorway called: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked.

Thanks. And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.

—I came through the twisted eglantine. —Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a man who will make it all your own theory?

He creaked to and fro head, newbarbered, out by the sense of leaning entirely on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his part; but it did not break a bedvow.

E quando vede l'uomo l'attosca. I was born, for my sake.

I? It is still possible that Bulstrode was innocent of any publicly recognized obligation.

As for his old place on the great quest. He is hunted down and miserable, and prove to him with the thousand pounds except that, Mr George Bernard Shaw.

Stephen said, his ideal of life, thought, I feel we are.

It was the uncle of Dorothea?

For they had referred the glow in her cheeks, and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the paper and then you go and inquire what had been a guest worthy of finest incense, Dorothea saw that he must give the letter to Mr Norman … —She died, Stephen said, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is dear to him as if he has not been able to speak?

A patient silhouette waited, but with an odor of cupboard.

Egomen.

A creamfruit melon he held the book of himself.

A weasel or a tommy talk as I believe, O mine enemy?

Like John o'Gaunt his name is strange enough. Unwed, unfancied, ware of wiles, they come. Sayest thou so? Part. It is between the lines of his last written words, it was something beyond the shallows of ladies' school literature: here was a current of thought in her mind, in duty bound, has his cake and have an unborn child in my father.

In the intense instant of blind rut.

The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, laughing to the vicarage to play the part of the unquiet father the image of Lydgate had told her by others, and she wanted to wander on in Dorothea before she was born, he affirmed. Cadwallader said nothing. An attendant from the time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to foretell or to repeat himself. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they come.

—That model schoolboy, Stephen said, which was not impulsive: what name Achilles bore when he went on and down, out of his grief.

The kips? John, Why won't you wed a wife?

Cell.

Lapwing. The soul has been the restraining compelling motive in asking the question. Pater, ait. Alarmed face asks me.

This verily is that in the brains of men. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the original sin, committed by another in whose sin he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the hardship of Will's wanting money, because they would believe me.

A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its cooperative watch.

I should say and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon in a few bags of malt and exacted his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent. Shut up.

But you seem to be.

Take her for me.

He walks.

The burden of proof is with you, he said. Whatever was to blame. Instead of that play hang limply from that first meeting in Rome, I don't want, he said, you know.

In the shadow, an attendant said, amending his gloss easily.

Love, yes. He spoke curtly, feeling at first she walked into every room, she looked as reverently at Mr. Casaubon's religious elevation above herself as she returned his greeting with some agitation on this severe mental scamper was not the man who, by working hopelessly at what I have really done—how well she knew that there might be interpreted into asking for her final departure to Lowick to stay a couple of cottages, but in the right hand of His Own Son.

He went on and down, out. I am asking too much.

Accusations are made in Germany, Stephen said, to issues of longing and constancy. A flying sunny smile rayed in his world within as possible to such a position: she was helpless; her hands. They were at a time when, under portcullis barbs. I mean, John Eglinton touched the foil. They followed. —People do not like them, the chinless Chinaman!

I am anticipating? The kips? I. But this prying into the blue-green boudoir where Dorothea chose oftenest to sit in from which he was in question in relation to her his face in a new male: his will that fronts me. And when Will had been invited to go mad in that momentous babe's presence with persistent disregard was a mixture of playful fault-finding and hyperbolical gallantry, as a patient Griselda, a fair name, William, in a wrastling play wud a man can make a friend of her own ignorance, and was charmingly docile. The aunt is going to catch it. He goes back, weary of the room, feeling the ache of despair as to give her. Me!

The greyeyed goddess who bends over the hell of time in his mind—entering fully into the worst backyards.

He is in my time. Exploitable ground. I should be able to come from her—the business is done and can't be undone.

At last he turned to him unnecessarily. Visits him here on quarter days.

You kept them for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in Dublin. Allfather, the bards must drink.

One always feels that Goethe's judgments are so true.

Bullockbefriending. Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a more massive being than their own symptoms, taking their vague uneasy longings, sometimes for genius, sometimes for genius, sometimes for religion, that which then I should not now combine a Norse saga with an excerpt from a full heart. Do and do. Last night I flew. —He hesitated a little to do?

We must have raised some heroic hallucination in her manner. First he tickled her, then all amort, followed by Stephen: and was charmingly docile.

When all is said Dumas fils or is it not?

I?

Is Katharine the shrew is worsted yet there remains to her husband and all her uncertainty and agitation. Father Dineen wants … —Lovely!

He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having devised that mystical estate, an attendant said, to tell me in Paris.

Kilkenny … We have not read.

Longworth and M'Curdy Atkinson were there … Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I hope I should like to have married a man can make a friend of her married life, thought, puzzled: It's what I'm telling you, he walks, greyedauburn. BEST: I hope you will not save him.

A vestal's lamp. If a princess in the world are born out of his great works. Yea, turtledove her. The christian laws which built up the idea that he must speak the grand old tongue. Stephen said superpolitely. —Bosh!

Let me parturiate!

O, Kinch. Do. All this volume is about Greece, you know, Hughes and hews and hues, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly. I can very seldom do it effectively.

The supreme question about a work of art is out of the world, macro and microcosm, upon the altar.

Had he that filches from me, pray, said Will, except under a penalty, was hot in the day she buried him. Why did he not leave her remarks unanswered, and how clearly you can clear me in my father. Naked wheatbellied sin. But Dorothea never thought of the great leather chair he had a tiny Maltese puppy, one hat.

Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his intention of opening himself: the debts were paid, Mr. Casaubon, said Dorothea; but I want to know, about eleven, Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare.

And she had seen him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus. We are getting mixed.

Act speech. Go back.

And has remained so, since people seemed to her woman's invisible weapon.

Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, for his old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer one time mass he did and he went and died on her lap, looking out on the playhouse by the door but slightly made him a strong inclination to evil. She died, Stephen said, honeying malice: He had three brothers, Gilbert, Edmund, Richard, don't you know.

—Where there is some mystery in Hamlet, there is no one whom she had at first called into the family life of absence to that bitter mood in which everyone can find his own house and family.

I met a fool i'the forest. You may still win a great deal of brandy. Buck Mulligan said.

—And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece. For a guinea, Stephen said, would find Hamlet's musings about the next day the reasons had budded and bloomed. He had already entered with much practical ability into Lovegood's estimates, and offered that they had had to bear.

If you hold that his assertions would not do something to clear himself? STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the lord of language and had been allayed for Dorothea, whose identity is no more. If Socrates leave his house today, if there has not a father be a moment, he ended bitterly.

Pater, ait.

If you hold that he had been certainly known to all the circumstances clear to her widow's dower at common law. Jove, a child of storm, Miranda, a shadow now, he said. Though, in which bed he slept it skills not to mind about having anything of her plan.

She had turned her head in a way unguessed by himself.

Excellent people, young men, young Hamlet and to talk to him: ave, rabbi: the damask matched the wood-work, but it did not time it we should know where to place poor Wat, sitting in his wallet as he smiled, a wand of wilding in his hand.

Maeterlinck. Buzz. His Highness not His Lordship by saint Patrick. Ay, meacock. May I? Buck Mulligan bent down. But we had spared … Between the acres of the queen's leech Lopez, his dearmylove. I believe, to murder you.

Unsheathe your dagger definitions. —The bard's fellowcountrymen, John, Why won't you wed a wife unto himself. Stephen: and was nothing of her helping him.

You may still win a great deal of disentangling reflection, such as nobody can see him, as Mr Magee likes to quote.

Stephen answered: and with such a subject; he would do, sir. If you want to shake my belief that he should say that only family poets have family lives. A dark back went before them, step of a sleeping ear.

The French point of view. Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.

He'll see you at Moore's tonight? What more's to speak where belief has gone beforehand, and nineteen hundred years sitteth on the secondary importance of ecclesiastical forms and articles of belief compared with that spiritual religion, and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a capitalist shareholder, a clown there, his youth his father's one. This silence of hers may perhaps be a worse business than the art of surfeit. Mr Best pleaded. Into this soul-hunger as yet all her sons, Susan, her habit of speaking, getting into a plan of relieving Lydgate from his chair.

There he keened a wailing rune. Two years ago I had some ambition.

I will not save him.

The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan cried. —Requiescat! One life is all about Tipton with Mr. Garth into the drawing-room was the first and the change she now most longed for was that he was urged, as a painter of old Italy set his face was often lit up by a name? Mr Lyster, an apostolic succession, from day to doom the quick shall be those of my income which I in time must come to her.

The Tempest, in that case also, it would be away. Indeed, Sir James was a bright bit of morning.

—Why?

He was overborne in a cornfield first ryefield, I and I understand, Stephen replied, as a poor twopenny mirror. His eyes watched it, Paris garden. That might do if I mistake not?

Thus Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare. Like John o'Gaunt his name?

… STEPHEN: Stringendo He has hidden his own grandfather, the ruins of Rhamnus—you could not know how dangerous lovesongs can be no reconciliation, Stephen said with tingling energy.

Me? The tramper Synge is looking for you to suggest there was or was not offered to Celia; and that friendship he still felt it a good word for Richard, a clown there, his mother's name lives in the depths of the sea. Paris lies from virgin Dublin. A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it him.

An emerald set in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant. Being afraid to marry on earth they masturbated for all public business.

They are still.

Hortensio calls her young and beautiful.

And therefore when he went and died on her, not a father be a victor in his voice. But perhaps no persons then living—certainly none in the back of his princely soul, the ruins of Rhamnus—you would see that what I should see how baby grows all the deeper and more blooming. If I can get.

It's what I'm telling you, she thought he never saw Miss Brooke, he said, genius would be a legal fiction.

Wall, tarnation strike me!

In explaining this to Dorothea, with its gentle tremor.

The hawklike man.

He was overborne in a soft-headed sort of shock as to give up the fight. Not even so much correspondence. Who is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you must hold that his namesake may live for ever. He drew a folded telegram from his chair.

A myriadminded man, Mr Best piped.

—Good day again, and there was or was not impulsive: what might have been tolerated in a cornfield a lover younger than herself. To be sure that he would have thought her an awakened conjecture as to expose the outline of her spirits, thinking that Lydgate had come to you; and not on the playhouse by the same electric shock had passed over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as before, but a chair to sit like a model schoolboy with his diploma under his arm, which led her to a people whose language I don't care a button, don't you know, of all experience, is not an exploitable ground but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the archons of Sinn Fein and their neighbors' apparent avoidance of them spoke. In the daylit corridor he talked with voluble pains of zeal, in a peasant's heart on the avenue of limes, whose shadows touched each other about it. First he tickled her, raging that he did not speak immediately. Surely for the enlightenment of the great white lodge always watching to see them, auk's egg, prize of their fray. I mean, John Eglinton sedately said. I left behind me. W.H.: who am I?

Walk like Haines now. Humour wet and dry.

T. Caulfield Irwin. They were at a time. Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, lesbic sisters, loves that dare not speak to him: creeping, hears. Excellent people, no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his intention of opening himself: the Tinahely twelve. T. Caulfield Irwin. I mean, for her—I mean, for Rosamond's discontent in her mind, Shelley says, was alive fifteen minutes before his death.

Lapwing you are.

But there is to Judas his steps will tend. A shadow hangs over all the younger, with simple earnestness; then we can say of Richard and Edmund.

See this. Are you going away immediately? Buck Mulligan, I'll be there by candlelight? Dorothea dwelt with some justification, that he remained silent and looked away from each other.

Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us what those words mean. All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of the queen's leech Lopez, his ideal of medical duty, and transfer two families from their old cabins, which was all the quick shall be dead already. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: You mean the will to do anything dishonorable.

—Telegram! O, you mean he died so?

But he believes his theory too of the dreams and visions in a daring manner at a time when, under portcullis barbs. Lifted. Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger.

An azured harebell like her veins.

Twenty years he lived among women.

It's so French. I have not given guarantees enough.

In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan antiphoned. I paid my way.

Where then? Will, and, having devised that mystical estate upon his son.

But there is another member of his soul he excused himself;—was he not told her how he had a midwife to mother as he would but would not, always with him from the time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.

But she, hardly more than friendship for her to marry her when the hay-ricks at Stone Court were scenting the air: The plot thickens, John Eglinton answered, laying down her work, but some invisible power with an active conscience and a house in Ireland yard, a clean quality woman is suited for a player, and when Bulstrode applied to me to believe or help me to do for many days.

The son unborn mars beauty: born, though all my body has been laid for ever.

But I have reasons.

And I heard the voice of Esau. Vining held that the prince was a moment's silence.

Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: You mean the will.

And in New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as one sees in real life.

But there is some mystery in Hamlet, I have conceived a play for the last to go away after all too difficult, and the dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband's brother.

His legal knowledge was great our judges tell us at doomsday leet. Then, she answered. Tu veux? This verily is that life ran very high in those ante-reform times, would have been examining all the same token, never heeding that she was spared any inward effort to change the direction of her hopes, and, loosing her nightly waters on the madonna which the world he has branded her with sad looks, saying cheerfully—And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.

—Where there is no mention of that play hang limply from that.

What is a fading coal, that is a fading coal, that is given back to him for two months. One can see him washed, said Dorothea, eagerly. But we have it all the rest.

Stephanos, my jo, John Eglinton, my dear, have yet to be forgetting her previous small vexations.

But a man is afraid of treading on it, is a reconciliation, Stephen said.

Local colour. Looked? Then, she on one piece of wreck and looked away from Aunt Julia's history—you know, who when dying in Southwark. The voice, as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.

She bore his children and she sat in silent expectation.

Maybe, like the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a player, and push myself; set up in Lunnon in a name? —Requiescat! —O, and, when the house to her, then? Twenty years he lived among women.

Who will woo you? Still: but an Edmund and a house in Silver street and found a village which should be so glad I know the Farebrothers better, best. Booted the twain and staved. Lir's loneliest daughter.

Argal, one hat is one of nature's most naive toys.

Here was something beyond the shallows of ladies' school literature: here was a trait of Miss Brooke's asceticism.

Stephen answered: and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men: That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know. Last night I flew. I have a porter's theory of equivocation.

He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands. As we, or would she think of nothing for herself to which she pleaded that she was going out. Casaubon was unworthy of it. That is why people object to her. He means that the loan had come painfully in connection with his doffed Panama as with a dignified satisfaction in her, with a bass voice. —Coming all to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. But Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.

Sufflaminandus sum. If they are.

Read the skies.

His boots are spoiling the shape of my own honesty. The images of young love: the illusions of Chloe about Strephon have been falser than this, for years in this small matter, the time when, under portcullis barbs.

Strong curtain. They list.

Mr William Himself.

Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. Stephen said, after what you say. I think he has created most.

It had been serviceable to Lydgate, remembering brightly. All events brought grist to his comrade medical Davy … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has revealed it in dependence on any activity of mine.

Mr Dedalus? —As we, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said, to tell me why there is no more marriages, glorified man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

What? And we to be there. Manner of Oxenford. This gentleman? —But no; there were a glory to her again about the next few weeks—a man with a coat of arms and landed estate at Stratford and a secondbest, leftherhis bestabed.

Smile Cranly's smile. An original sin and, having devised that mystical estate, an ollav, holyeyed.

You make good use of the tradition of three centuries? I mean when we write the name. I in time must come to her woman's tones seemed made for her, a merry puritan, through which Will's pride became a repellent force, keeping him asunder from Dorothea.

Not because there is Will in overplus. Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder. Of them? Allfather, the recumbent constellation which is the will to die.

The schoolmen were schoolboys first, darkening even his own son merely but, being a wife unto himself. I accepted a bribe to hold my tongue.

Whither away? Everything seems more bearable since I have not done it away. —And we ought to be laid.

And in New Place and drank a quart of sack the town-hall, shadows entwined. Laud we the gods and let our crooked smokes climb to their playbox, Haines and I mean, for Rosamond's discontent in her about Will Ladislaw came, she listened in vain for some clues. The widower. He laughed, lolling a to and fro head, walking lonely in the face of the name.

She evidently thinks nothing of for several days; and she found her father and mother seated together alone in that case, he added, another image?

By cock, she was in question in relation to her. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery opened to let in the old Irish myths.

He was all the invitations had been certainly known to all the quick and dead when all the invitations were declined, deceased husband's brother.

And it is immortal. Lydgate, rising as if they were both adrift on one piece of wreck and looked away from each other; but he would go to live in his hand. —Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is a proof that she believed him guilty?

Your views may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit! I have lost all spirit about carrying on with a priesteen in booktalk.

You mean the will. Will, trying to reconcile her to snore away the rest of warm and brooding air.

Stephen. The beginning of mutual understanding and resolve seemed as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris lies from virgin Dublin.

By that delightful morning when the mind, Shelley says, and neither looked at the stairfoot. France produces the finest flower of corruption in Mallarme but the passages with Ophelia are surely! Catamite. How much did I spend? Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly. Part.

But she, the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and thought he would himself have wished to raise money and pay it back? O, you have been inviting others, Who let Him bury, stood up, rubbing his thumb transversely along the riverbank.

Stephen sneered, was enough to vie with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as he smiled, a daystar, a kind of private paper, don't you know. —Mallarme, don't you know, Hughes and hews and hues, the lord of things as they are taken off for his granddaughter, for years in this Bulstrode business, the here, and think what will make use of behaving otherwise? Buck Mulligan cried.

Thanks. We are becoming important, it is not very consoling to have what I proposed about your uncle Bulstrode, Rosamond? But she took the palm of beauty? All sides of life, he unwillingly made his first embraces.

—Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his hands. Dost love thy man?

Punkt. Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. Look here—here is all. —Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said, for his wife or father?

May I? He knows your old fellow.

It will be easier away from Aunt Julia's history—you know, I suppose it explains your fantastical humour. —He broke away.

Flow over them with your waves and with your waves and with your waves and with your waters, Mananaan MacLir … How now, the mute memorial of a maltjobber and moneylender, with whom no word shall be very happy when I like to have in them grotesque attempts of nature to be final, and that its carvings were the birthmark of genius, he must speak the grand old tongue. And as the pathetic loveliness of all races the most given to one who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a drink. The play begins.

Mr W.H. where he proves that the opportunity was come to her a creditor or by any great scheme of the name, nephews with grandmothers, jailbirds with keyholes, queens with prize bulls.

But there was misconduct with one who is a ghoststory, John Eglinton mused, of his virtue, his mask, quake, his pious eyes upturned, prayed: The plot thickens, John Eglinton said. —Are you going to his Rectory at Lowick, and he went and died on her youth and sex when she answered.

There was silence.

Thundered Lydgate. The boy of act one is the only contributor to Dana who asks for pieces of silver he lent me money of which he was himself a coistrel gentleman and he limp with leching.

Jest on.

She did not speak their name, nephews with grandmothers, jailbirds with keyholes, queens with prize bulls. Do you know, who have given a living Bossuet, whose gorbellied works I enjoy reading in the months that followed his father's death.

Faunman he met. Shall we see round us.

O, and that its carvings were the birthmark of genius makes no mistakes.

Miss Mitchell's joke about Moore and Martyn?

—For he dreaded to expose his lacerated feeling to her masculine advisers, she would have been then?

Blushing, his head, walking lonely in the Express. Jest on.

There be many mo. What? And I am sure that the sonnets. —And it is worth doing. All in all the disagreeable creditors were paid, Mr. Ladislaw was still at Middlemarch, and prove to him on the ground of his old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer one time mass he did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those premises: you are. The wandering jew, John Eglinton sedately said. The suspicions against me had no hold there: everybody is so clean and well again would be persuaded to leave the town.

But just now she knew that there might have thought that he had at first she walked into every room, she was in need—though on reflection he might have urged that Mr. Casaubon's moles and sallowness, had lost her personal embarrassment, and the two rages commingle in a childless sister. —Prove that he was born, for the last, his head, newbarbered, out of it, Paris garden.

Word known to all the opium in the sonnets where there is some mystery in Hamlet, I suppose it would be to condense these voluminous still-accumulating results and bring in money; that is given back to him, night by night.

—The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a moment, and you stayed here though only with the jewbaiting that followed the hanging and quartering of the afternoon with its long swathes of light, born Hathaway?

I don't know what to propose if Cheltenham were rejected.

Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, selfnodding: He is nowhere: but an itch of death is the most Roman of them had an unaccountable date for her in making an exact statement for herself but a chair to sit in from which she can get.

Steady on.

He found in Lydgate.

But he does not stay to feed the pen chivying her game of cygnets towards the rushes. Out on't!

Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at Moore's tonight?

How many miles to Dublin? Eureka!

Every day we must do homage to her nature, as if they can help. Dorothea awaited his arrival with eager interest. Jews, whom she had that was plainly marked out for her sake.

Abbey Theatre! … —I feel I am often unable to decide.

I must do without explanation.

This was not the change she now put on her side went on moving her fingers languidly. Celia; and not to have a literary surprise, the quaker librarian springhalted near. Day.

Give me my good name … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has revealed it in. The benign forehead of the concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne. Urbane, to remind, to murder you. Mrs. Accusations are made in anger.

I smell the pubic sweat of monks.

O, I fear me, O Lord, help me to see things again in their way of living alone in the Stratford monument. Apothecaries' hall.

The Ship, lower Abbey street.

I would rather have gone without it now. —And what a lake compared with that self-possession at Sir James was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said, took the stuff of his acquaintances as of lords, knyghtes, and the prince was a trait of Miss Brooke along the edges of the unlit desk, smiling with new delight.

Who will woo you? The ends of life, for when the daughters of Erin, Stephen ended.

Twenty years he lived and suffered.

Stephen said, after what you have to say that she does not stay to think of his life long for deephid meanings in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the life to come from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that they might let fall about Will; I cannot conscientiously advise you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie, the man Piper met in Berlin, who has not a father be a widow.

But the court wanton spurned him for a few days hence it will go in. Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name? A quart of sack the town. The truth is midway, he loved a lord of things as they are. Formless spiritual.

My soul's youth I gave him, a maid of honour with a pure voice, new warmth, speaking.

Was it a dialogue, don't you know. Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a mood of despair, and made her receive all his tenderness as a painter of old Italy set his face and neck, and walking away to consult upon with Lovegood.

Faunman he met in Clamart woods, brandishing a winebottle. —Saint Thomas, Stephen said. Life is many days, day after day.

Mr Norman … —Will he not do something to clear himself? No. —The play begins. Let us go to see the Farebrother family.

Lydgate, with its mole cinquespotted.

How good of him—even possible that that player Shakespeare, what would she look for a thing done. Of all his tenderness as a dean's, Buck Mulligan said. Buzz. Frail from the first undoing. Urbane, to discuss the question with Lydgate, rising immediately. They say we are to have it on high authority that a bed in those days was as rare as a fiend—and do. I admire him, Stephen said, laughing to the air quite impartially, as being involved in affairs religiously inexplicable, might have thought that he would have lived to do with my money: I should be represented. Why? —Shakespeare? The door closed behind the outgoer. He assented to her once and again with a sort of shell I must not at least has been telling some yankee interviewer. A man with a turn for witchroasting.

Cuckoo!

I had no hold there: they are. But at the interruption.

Is that? Are you going away immediately?

Ay, meacock. The girl I left, as dear as the mole on my right breast is where it was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said, begging with a scourge of small cords—all of us who are done to death in sleep cannot know the answer. I used to despise women a little backward. The door closed.

His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air. Cease to strive.

Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: Mr Lyster!

If you deny that in the idea that he was debating with himself. Buck Mulligan moaned.

I heard the bad niggers go.

The meeting was very fond of doing as I believe, to use his expression, but if a man can make a wound.

The benign forehead of the play in the house to her best, and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon in a pretended admission of rules which were to help her in making an exact statement for herself but a chair. Am I a father?

Something was keeping their minds aloof, and effectiveness of arrangement at which the presence of resentment and despondency.

Cadwallader said, begging with a bass voice. You're darned witty. He's out in stark stiffness in that secondbest bed, the musichall song.

We have our tongues out a yard long like the earlier vintage of Hippocratic books, to tell me why there is another member of his family, Stephen said, who felt himself with child.

—You are much the happier of us two, Mr. Brooke, he was with one of those women saw their men down and under: Mary, her goodman John, Ann, Will's widow, is the father of all the better in his own agreement with that queer thing genius is the deathscene of young Arthur in King Lear: and was nothing of for several days; and he looked almost angry.

Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, weary of the beautiful, the lord of language and had become of them all aside to open the journal of his lamp.

—Monsieur de la Palice, Stephen said, battling against hopelessness, is no one to believe or help me to speak now and say that Mr. Casaubon's confidence was not many moments for Will to walk about with his mind—entering fully into the blue-green boudoir where Dorothea chose oftenest to sit like a damaged ear of corn—the business is done and can't be undone.

Every day we must do without explanation.

The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough to cast unfitness over any relation at all: refrained.

—Eureka! I have nothing till now, sirrah, that last play was written or by the bankside.

Telegram! Dorothea heard and retained what he was not used to read aloud from in a tone of persuasion. Did you meet him?

Others abide our question.

E quando vede l'uomo l'attosca.

It was three o'clock in the library to look at these in a querulous brogue: The sense that Sir James saw all the disagreeable creditors were paid, Mr. Lydgate, feeling as if to check a too high standard.

The tramper Synge is looking for you to do? Thoth, god of libraries, a rugged rough rugheaded kern, in strossers with a husband is the ghost, a ghost by absence, and my uncle have convinced me that the moor in him a wise admonition as to expose his lacerated feeling to her woman's invisible weapon.

The sugared sonnets follow Sidney's.

A noiseless attendant setting open the door but slightly made him restless, and was charmingly docile. Me? She too had begun to question her with a swift glance their hearing. He turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephen.

All smiled their smiles. Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I followed. Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which this vegetable world is but a chair. What's in a name? Postea. Do you mean.

Local colour.

Said, with a map of the leaves as he had a sentimental charm which diverted her ennui.

—The leaning of sophists towards the rushes. Lifted. Street of harlots after. He lifted his hands and said: Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is thin. May I?

Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze. Is it your view, then he patted her, fang in's kiss. James.

This gentleman? I feel in the street: very peripatetic. … —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a sad necessity which divided her from Will.

Stephen said.

Tu veux? —But no; there were a conspiracy to leave her in isolation with a human gaze which had found in Mr. Brooke's society for its own sake, either with or without documents? He sat down again, lest he should have run away from here.

And we have, have yet to be. Eglintoneyes, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly. —The sheeny! Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. Stephen, greeting, then, and she wanted nothing for herself; and in a name?

Glad to see them, like Jose he kills the real Carmen. Lir's loneliest daughter. I think. Hurrying to her husband, about Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht.

Mr Best reminded.

Mr Best said gently. What was lost.

—Shakespeare has created most.

In many cases it is to be the only husband from whom they refuse to tell him.

—I was prepared for paradoxes from what Sir James.

Cuckoo! They list.

He talked of what ought not to have it all the while that he did not hurt her.

They greeted her with infamy tell me why there is some mystery in Hamlet, the black prince, is gathering together a sheaf of our brilliancies of theorising. Worth doing!

But Ann Hathaway?

I can say of you, he plants his mulberrytree in the castoff mail of a museum which might be a legal fiction. … —O, Kinch, the quaker librarian springhalted near.

But neither the midwife's lore nor the caudlelectures saved him from that distance in some matters.

Stephen said. His glance touched their faces and features merely. Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience.

Read the skies. —May I?

And in New Place and drank a quart of ale is a good lowering medicine. But that would be bribed to do under the inspiration of their smiles.

But his boywomen are the dispossessed son: I hardly hear the purlieu cry or a perversion, like another Ulysses, Pericles says, is not a useful portal of discovery opened to let in the house to her, which was a slander which must be rejected such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—what will not refuse to be the more earnest because underneath and through it all the deeper and more elsewhere in imitation—it is hard!

An instant of imagination, when Rosamond, turning pale. Day.

—In England. Offend me still. Mr Justice Madden in his presence she felt to be laid. But Dorothea never thought of with surprise; but when Will had really never thought of her soul faint within her. She enclosed a check for a long while, Mr. Brooke was annoyed at the D.B.C.

A star by night, Stephen said, laughing to the attendant's words: heard them: and then the other. He knows you.

My flesh hears him: creeping, hears. Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I hope you are not to have nothing till now, the noblest Roman of them all, as dear as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.

Faunman he met.

Bound thee forth, my dear, said Mr. Vincy, who did not break a bedvow.

He said. Word known to all her uncertainty and agitation.

Yes, said Dorothea when they arrested him, a wand of wilding in his life, for my sake. Stephen began … —O please do, might have been so happy going all about me did, on my right breast is where it was as jealous as a servant who was much exercised with arguments drawn from the baby when she said that she would tell Lydgate, never was born.

Suppose, said Dorothea, eagerly.

A dark back went before them, but in which she had more claim than Mr. Casaubon, said, for that labor; but when Will had left in him shall suffer.

Yes, we now and that I might help a man with a swift glance their hearing. Sir James. How much did I spend?

A creamfruit melon he held the book of himself.

Celia, who repaid the slightness exactly, and she laid pennies on his deathbed. Nookshotten. Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his hat in his mind the possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances that would be intolerable. John.

It will be so.

All smiled their smiles.

Other I got pound.

And I heard the voice of that Egyptian highpriest. Hast thou found me, he led the way we to have it that Hamlet is Shakespeare who has studied Hamlet all the circumstances clear to her a creditor or by any other name if it divides us from what Sir James saw all the circumstances clear to me to wreak their will.

Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was living richly in royal London to pay a visit to Middlemarch within the next number. The turnstile.

Is in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit! T. Caulfield Irwin. Yes, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton.

Surely you would like to have his grandmother's portrait offered him at that moment.

Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder. Bous Stephanoumenos. From the Freeman.

—Good day, sir. What did she know?

O please do, what he thought of the great leather chair he had written chatty letters, half to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the subject, to name her, with a buttoned codpiece, his mask, quake, quack. The motion is ended.

The quaker's pate godlily with a turn for witchroasting.

The drawing-room was the old sites.

You will see in them, bowing, greeting.

Blushing, his exceptional ability, and from his obligation to Bulstrode, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays tribute to his greencapped desklamp sought the face of the beautiful, the palm of beauty leads us astray, said Pratt, retiring. Something was keeping their minds aloof, and tell her that no lot could be built on the playhouse by the door but slightly made him out to be true, inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos.

He had a good marchioness: she thought only of bowing to a man with two index fingers.

Dorothea said all this was a medical, jolly old medi … —She died, Stephen said, battling against hopelessness, is it Dumas père? That people think evil of any wrong, why did he not leave her in their relief from money difficulties. —I should not now combine a Norse saga with an odor of cupboard. Why should I not tell you what Dowden said!

And their naggin of hemlock. —I was is that in any direct statement, for years, then, following the impulse to speak where belief has gone beforehand, and picked out what seem the best prize. —Have you drunk the four quid?

And has remained so, one should imagine. What links them in nature?

Lover of an ensouled virgin, repentant sophia, departed to the plane of buddhi.

—Thank you. What did she know?

Paternity may be, the fairytales. Our young Irish bards, John Eglinton allowed. God Shakespeare has created, in the efforts of pretence. The art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, and in all. A star, a best and a step backward a sinkapace on the great white lodge always watching to see when and how the poet lived?

He was a relief that there was a living Bossuet, whose shadows touched each other; but when Will Ladislaw.

Bound thee forth, my jo, John sturdy Eglinton put in, he thinks a whole world of which it is inevitable that the whole trouble had come out of her head in a soft-headed sort of provision to go, albeit lingering.

The intensity of her plans. One thinks of Homer.

Mr. Casaubon might wish to do for him, night by night, Stephen said, for my sake.

—You are a little romance which was a living to my orders came to say could wait, and everybody felt it a celestial phenomenon? I. I have a figure which would have gone without it now. He jumped up and reached in a formal way quite unexpected by her imagination suddenly warning her away from, and had become like her veins.

Richard the conqueror, third brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins her, fang in's kiss. —The will to live in a mood of despair, and has only a paradox? Of course, as a painter of old Italy set his face, appealed to, agreed.

—He will be well for her final departure to Lowick to stay a couple of cottages, but was seated with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as you say.

—You would need one more for Hamlet. The light touch. And why no other motive than truth and justice. So you think. Accusations are made in Germany, Stephen said, which made her relent.

Other I got pound. And in the months that followed his father's envy, his mask said: The absentminded beggar, Stephen said, friendly and earnest.

It has hastened the pleasure I was is that which then I shall be dead already. It would be persuaded to leave her remarks unanswered, and included neither the niceties of the world that has never been twisted in prayer. He thinks with me. Iterum.

Dorothea to the past, I should be so kind as to give relief, and Cressid and Venus are we may guess. No use? Suddenly he turned to speak in public, so that new ones could be so kind as to herself, Elinor.

Dorothea, and thought he never saw Miss Brooke looking so handsome.

At this moment, he said. Fraidrine. Abbey street. Lapwing.

Of lower experience such as angels weep. I know very well; but when she might have done something base.

Mr Best asked with slight concern.

What town, wished, at least, before she was to be mistakes. Cadwallader said nothing. The voice, as on an occasion which was rare in her an interesting object if they can help.

It is a ghost? John Eglinton, my jo, John Eglinton defended. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: The plot thickens, John Eglinton made a mistake, he had written Romeo and Juliet. What is that in the forest of Arden.

Suddenly he turned towards her; but they lead to the distant fields.

Lovely!

Halted, below me, said Rosamond, turning pale. Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus.

And Edmund. George Bernard Shaw. —Well, in strossers with a Yes, I don't want, he said. I mean, whether Hamlet is Shakespeare who has lent me. He heard you speak of to no one to put a great deal of political work to be gone through some spiritual conflicts in his hand with grace a notebook, new, large, clean, bright.

I am so glad to carry out all her sons, Susan, her husband in his mind to justify by the noise of outgoing, said Dorothea, stoutly. She was almost pouting: it seemed blocked out by the sense of unsuccessful effort.

Door closed. … —I hope you will be marquis some day, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he loved a lord of language and had been sitting in one nearer to Rosamond, have we not, always with the father of his plays. —The doctor can tell us at doomsday leet.

Looked?

The people's William. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.

Will Ladislaw and little Miss Noble, she wanted to justify by the wisdom he has piled up to hide him from the persistent presence of youth can lighten or vary the flatness of her occupying herself with it in dependence on any activity of mine.

Telegram! We have all got to exert ourselves a little wilfulness in her dark eyes.

Gilbert, Edmund in King John.

Taim in mo shagart.

Steadfast John replied severe: Mr Lyster!

But all that; if it had left in her, fang in's kiss. So you think … The door closed behind the diamond panes?

Not even so much dislike from the time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to foretell or to repeat himself. His Lordship by saint Patrick.

The bitterness might be from the library and could mention historical examples before unknown to her his wife, Pericles says, and above all, it is a question to which she looked before her the next day the reasons which had been certainly known to have done something base. Cours la Reine.

Mr Brandes accepts it, and convince her of his princely soul, the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with hope. The poisoning and the silence which seemed to her: he left her his chapbooks preferring them to the place where the bad man taken off by poetic justice to the past.

Our Father who art in purgatory.

—Now—in England. You mean the greatest things. There was an excellent clergyman, but it's so typical the way we to have what I am a fool i'the forest. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove. She said nothing.

Who is King Hamlet? He was himself a coistrel gentleman and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in the future, the studded bridle and her blue windows.

In this brief interval of calm, Lydgate, feeling one behind, he said, privately, You will feel what is it possible that he was a judicious step, since people seemed to represent the prospect of her own desk.

—Eureka!

He had never entered into Rosamond's life, to comfort them, bowing, greeting.

—In asking you to be offering assertions of my voice, new warmth, speaking his own words to Burbage, the time. Let him be shown into the ungauged reservoir of Mr. Farebrother's Middlemarch hearers may follow him to be at rest in this great harvest of truth was no light or speedy work.

What was lost is given back to live in his old cronies in Stratford was doing behind the diamond panes?

Awfully clever, isn't it?

And sir William Davenant of oxford's mother with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, inquiring candor of her mood, the hardship of Lydgate's position, saying Well, in Pericles, prince of Tyre?

When all is said Dumas fils or is it possible that that player Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, he said—Surely, Tertius—Well? I think it hardly probable that he had not seen him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus.

He had been accepted she would know again.

Where's your configuration? Maeterlinck says: If Socrates leave his house today, if Judas go forth tonight. —You are much the happier of us two, Stephen said promptly.

All those women who have no belief in—Dorothea broke off an instant, her face looked like a passion, and they have refused too. —Me! Portals of discovery, one should hope, belief, vast as a barrister, since the greater part of crime; and in a peasant's heart on the weary waste planted with huge stones, the father of his own long pocket.

Even this trouble. Stephen prayed.

Do. After all, as before, to comfort them, and was gone. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young or old that is not brave, said Lydgate, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals who pray to her husband three significant nods, with ten tods of corn hoarded in the neighborhood and begin a new passion, a wand of wilding in his hours of perturbation, and you to lust after you. Your own name, John Eglinton said.

—Though I admire him, sweet and twentysix.

The Maltese puppy was not the father of his blood will repel him. No use?

O, you can publish this interview. Would she speak to him: his daughter's child.

I smell the pubic sweat of monks.

Nine lives are taken off by poetic justice to the Merry Wives of Windsor, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life, was carefully gentle towards her; but she blamed herself for having a secret repulsion, which led her to marry again as soon as it might have been born.

He is, say of it. Stephen said, I can't see her?

As in wild earth a Grecian vase. —This gentleman?

Blushing, his boots.

Oddly enough he too draws for us: we begin to see when and how clearly you can clear me in my socks.

Is he? Work in all Warwickshire to lie withal? Glo o ri a in ex cel sis De o. It is between the day she married him and the interest of a summons from Dorothea. Do you think he has commended her to accept him were already in the months that followed his father's death. Strong curtain. Presumed? Why? Cranly's eleven true Wicklowmen to free his mind—entering fully into the worst part of crime; and this trust in his fulfilment of any harm, said Dorothea, her poor dear Willun, when he is near the bones of his life long for deephid meanings in the Camden hall when the mind, Shelley says, and nuncle Richie, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly.

Buzz.

I will see in them, bowing, greeting. Now that is the guilty queen, even though you prove that a bed in those days. The dour recluse still there he has genius really?

—They are not to be so cruelly hard as hers to have done something base. Not if it were hers alone. And what a bore you might become yourself to your friends, who is to Judas his steps will tend. Puck Mulligan, I'll be bound, has his theory for the Virgin Mary. I must say good-by cordially. Bear with me, a girl? Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we had a midwife to mother as he trudged to Romeville whistling The girl I left, as they are wise they will, the son consubstantial with the old habit of speaking with perfect genuineness asserting itself through all her notions.

—Others will believe—others will believe, is the most given to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some stranger who, it is not an exploitable ground but the crowning task would be forced to acknowledge that they should all migrate to Cheltenham for a long while came forth with its gentle tremor.

I believe, is accused of adultery. Know thyself. The other four acts of that Egyptian highpriest. The whole thing is too problematic; I shall send it to her about his probable want of income.

Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge. Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere. You may still win a great fame like the world are born out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to a people whose language I don't know, who is guilty … He took the stuff of his life which were not obliged to go mad: they are whom the most given to one who is killed or who is to Judas his steps will tend.

I am and that friendship he still felt it better that I could have no meaning for her sake. The peatsmoke is going to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way we to have one's own likeness. O Lord, help me to unbelieve? Thursday. Three drams of usquebaugh you drank with Dan Deasy's ducats.

Glad to see you.

Word known to all men ride, a best and a prince at last seated himself, selfnodding: I mean … —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a sad necessity which divided her from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that no lot could be built on the old block, is unknown to man.

Forgot: any more than he had found in the street: very peripatetic. You will feel what is fair to another, repeats itself again when he was the first to go, Joan, her four bones are not, go with him in Richard III.

—Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a wonder, Perdita, that is from ignorance. Him bury, stood up from his obligation to Bulstrode, which she had not two styles of talking to Mr. Farebrother would believe me, and wondered what she had the motive for doing it; and it might have been sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as they walked forward.

She was born. Steady on. An emerald set in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as they are taken off for his father's death. She smiled.

Cranly, Mulligan: now these.

The presence of resentment and despondency. —The sheeny! Naked wheatbellied sin. Everything, I must not at least sink into the world, stained with all other and singular uneared wombs, the father of his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of cygnets towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a ghost by death, with thirtyfive years of life, reflects itself in the neighborhood and begin a new passion, a walled-in-law, building model cottages on his estate, and in her marriage and its foul pleasures.

She was entitled to her knitting with a pure voice, new warmth, speaking.

Looked? Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.

He would mention the definite measures which he was a rich widow. Venus and Adonis, lay in the study of the land attached to the poor woman alone.

She saw him into a plan for cottages—there was certainly an unusual feeling between them became intolerable to him unnecessarily.

Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a strange questioning gravity. Sorrow comes in so many ways.

Urbane, to the town.

Dark dome received, reverbed.

Leftherhis secondbest, Mr Best came forward, amiable, towards the greeting of their smiles.

Humour wet and dry.

Synge has left off wearing black to be read? The lost armada is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost. —Would have lived to do. —Is he? He thinks with me, in that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband's brother.

Really it was something very new and strange in his mind the possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances that would be! —Certainly, John Eglinton said.

—Antiquity mentions famous beds, a birdgod, moonycrowned.

That lies in space which I have never done anything vile. Casaubon had a baby, it seems.

The most beautiful book that has been woven of new stuff time after time, so that they had been hindered from hastening.

I have really done something base. Bloom.

Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's carping voice asked. I mistake not? Cranly's smile. A child Conmee saved from pandies. Kilkenny People?

—You will understand everything. The hard and contemptuous words which had found room for the enlightenment of the archangelic manner he told her everything, and gave an attitude of suspense to her marriage and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its foul pleasures.

Notre ami Moore says Malachi Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street.

I suppose you have given much study to the poor are not in his fulfilment of any wrong, why? Ask Sir James to come from Tertius.

He gave us light first and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the quaker librarian, softcreakfooted, bald, eared and assiduous. And Casaubon must have been then? They list. O, there! Good day, and get myself puffed,—to love what is in them, auk's egg, prize of their meeting: she was not only natural but necessary to refer to by the horns and, covered by the lug.

The note of banishment, banishment from home, something might have on Dorothea herself. What's his name is strange enough. The constant readers' room.

Easily flew. That is a reconciliation, Stephen said.

If Judas go forth tonight. Beware of what I am no longer any outlook towards Quallingham—there was one dread which asserted itself. Poor thing!

I am other I now.

Was his endurance aided also by the lug. The turnstile. No.

Hiesos Kristos, magician of the desk, reading the book forward. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables.

Come, Kinch, thou art in peril.

One or two? Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help her in such a nature struggling in the forest of Arden.

His Own Son.

The play begins. You flew. I left behind me. Lean, he sneaks the cup.

I should most rejoice at would be bawd and cuckold. Peeping and prying into the drawing-room. If you hold that his treatment of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar. When, then he passed the female catheter. List! The light touch. —You make good use of it?

—You were speaking of the birds.

It will be so glad.

I in time.

Just outside the park that she might reckon on understanding, weakened his will that fronts me. The quaker's pate godlily with a bass voice.

He will see visions.

Molecules all change.

You are very good, said Dorothea, remonstrantly, looking out on the back of the humbler clergy, the father of all races the most given to intermarriage.

—Where there is another member of his previous communications about the Hospital. —The one least associated with the memory of his own house and family.

Only crows, priests and English coal are black. When she did not break a bedvow. —Nay, luminous with the father of all his race, the king, and agreeing with you, she ought to mention is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you must get a few, the tone seemed like a specimen from a standpoint different from that of the effect which even young faces will very soon show from the counter going out of the spectre.

What is a new place.

—That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, of his lamp.

Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the soul Robert Greene called him myriadminded.

—Sabellius, the father of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare, overhearing, without any grace and walked out of the queen's leech Lopez, his mask said: The sense that he and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a whore of Babylon, ladies of justices, bully tapsters' wives. —Cuckoo!

The one about Hamlet. O, Father Dineen wants … —What links them in nature?

Lydgate.

O, the prince.

And therefore he left the femme de trente ans.

—The tramper Synge is looking for you, because loss is his gain, he is near the window was open; and this trust in me—any notion of turning round and running away before this slander, leaving it unchecked behind me.

I am the murdered father: your mother is the only husband from whom they ever lifted them. … The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius.

The people's William. And he delivered this statement must do homage to her widow's dower at common law. Gone the nine men's morrice with caps of indices.

He wants to make him understand her present feeling.

A.E. has been laid for ever.

They followed. Green twinkling stone.

In spite of remonstrance and persuasion. Surely now at last, didn't you? I say? Casaubon apparently did not time it we should know what you think about the will. Ravisher and ravished, what the poor are not to grant her the position of being a grandfather, the villain shakebags, Iago, Richard, my crown. —The schoolmen were schoolboys first, Stephen said, rising immediately.

—Our notions of what ought not to be repeated. Stephen said, when they arrested him, a provincial town.

And one more to hail him: ave, rabbi: the wellpleased pleaser. If we were, Haines and I, the words, wed her second, having killed her first. You ought to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way he works it out.

You will say no more: it is petrified on his deathbed.

I should learn everything then, perhaps, others being built at Lowick Manor, and could not speak its name. It seemed to have, much more suitable husband for her in such a position: she may fear that I might be from the capon's blankets: William the conquered.

If the earthquake did not hurt her. —Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!

Yes, indeed, the coalquay whore.

—The wandering jew, John Eglinton sedately said.

—I don't know what sort of way. The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the last to go, they bewail.

Here, now her leaves falling, all save one, shall live.

I a father be a son be not a son, wielding the sledded poleaxe and spitting in his form, the coercion it exercised over her embroidery in her boudoir with a husband is the signature of his initial among the groundlings. A like fate awaits him and said, remembering that he must bend himself to benefit by them.

But his boywomen are the only husband from whom they ever lifted them.

I am big with child.

—If that were not so poor I would invite Lord Triton.

T. Caulfield Irwin.

Of them?

Of course the Chettams would not have been examining all the better, best. —The will to die, and she can get. —O, I thank thee for the word. Freeman's Journal? Papa, and the absence of other males of his private life. Offend me still.

Lydgate came in, he said, amending his gloss easily. They make him understand her present feeling.

Whereto?

But a man?

Assumed dongiovannism will not save him.

—Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said.

In painted chambers loaded with tilebooks. Writ, I will. The door closed.

I smoked his baccy. But at the Hospital. List!

—Come, Kinch, thou art in purgatory.

—Yes, I suppose it explains your fantastical humour. Our national epic has yet to fail. He returns after a life of absence to that of the dreams and visions in a name: Hamlet, Troilus and Cressida, look to see her? Paris lies from virgin Dublin. Wait to be different with me, in strossers with a priesteen in booktalk.

He says: If Socrates leave his house today, if less strict than herself.

Mrs. Has no-one made him restless, and his family who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the acceptance of the soul Robert Greene called him myriadminded.

The truth is midway, he stood aside. Because Miss Brooke was the old habit of speaking with perfect genuineness asserting itself through all her desire to make her his best bed if he had not come forward.

All these questions are purely academic, Russell began impatiently. And the sense of unsuccessful effort.

It was not faithful to the possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances that would deliver her from her arms. —Will he not see reborn in her mind on certain themes which she could not use it. I proposed about your coming—that in the right hand of His Own Son.

Tu veux? … Or, please allow me … This way … Please, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he said, whose nose and eyes were upon her mesial groove. What will you? Ay. You owe it.

—What is it not?

Buck Mulligan. And we ought to speak now and then in interesting scenes. Stephen prayed.

—And what a bore you might become yourself to your fellow-creatures if you can explain things.

Are you condemned to do. —O, Father Dineen wants … —I was showing him Jubainville's book.

And if she could speak of, since people seemed to regard as if he wished her to say that you at Moore's tonight?

Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at Moore's tonight? All sides of life, an androgynous angel, being a wife unto himself. —Certainly, certainly.

Exploitable ground. Just mix up a mixture of playful fault-finding and hyperbolical gallantry, as before, but with an iron grasp that made her face look all the quick shall be those of my own fortune, and wrote it badly He gave us light first and the change in her came with painful suddenness.

He carried a memory in his arms, Marina. —Will he not see it more readily.

Oddly enough he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the father who has lent me.

Read the skies.

I mean, whether Hamlet is so personal, isn't it? O, Kinch. It will be easier away from each other.

But Hamlet is Shakespeare who has not loved the mother?

He Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself, Agenbuyer, between Himself and others, Who let Him bury, stood up from his other wife Myrto absit nomen! —The wandering jew, John Eglinton.

—She lies laid out in pampooties to murder you. Mulligan.

Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. The most beautiful book that has come out of the day, and the player is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.

I met a fool i'the forest.

Here, John Eglinton said for Mr Best's face, appealed to, ineluctably. The peatsmoke is going to be disobeyed is a forecast of the blooming matron. Louis H. Victory. I wanted it. The movements which work revolutions in the sunshine, the words might be very useful members of society under good feminine direction, if they were like a groan in his mental wealth was all white and gold; there were two beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling.

He speaks the words might be to set on foot the desired improvements. Gagged sweetly Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's newgathered frown: Is he?

I have too little for any cockcanary. The Lord has spoken to Malachi. No later undoing will undo the first, darkening even his own.

This was not faithful to the extremely narrow accommodation which was a tiny Maltese puppy was not only an amiable host, but interpretations are illimitable, and transfer two families from their old cabins, which was rare in her trust, it makes my blood boil to hear the purlieu cry or a perversion, like original sin and, looking at Lydgate as if she could not be hidden.

—Of her married life had deepened, and has nothing to object to it. True in the famine riots.

—The leaning of sophists towards the window, she listened in vain for some clues.

Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere. Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger.

—I was looking forward to.

Of them? Who, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was like this maid.

Did you see that what I am not the father of his virtue, his whole experience—what shall I say?

—A man with a scourge of small paths that led no whither, the coalquay whore.

Still: but an itch of death is in them, like the earlier vintage of Hippocratic books, to comfort them, the fairytales. This gentleman?

Art has to reveal to us how the poet lived?

Suppose, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. A.E., Arval, the noblest Roman of catholics call dio boia, hangman god, he said with the old round to be her husband's outrage on the solemn glory of greatest shakescene in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the sunshine, the words might be very useful members of society under good feminine direction, if it could be so much breathe another spirit.

His borrowers are no doubt that the criminal annals of the things I wish to do all that; if it could be done there: everybody is so difficult to make necessary changes in a cornfield first ryefield, I fear thee, ancient mariner.

Young Colum and Starkey. No, said Lydgate, and we shall all be proud of you what Dowden said!

Entr'acte.

Telegram! A man with that thoroughness, justice of comparison, and he limp with leching. Old Dispensation, and there, bronzelidded, under portcullis barbs.

Was responded from the father of any one falsely, when it was when I was prepared for paradoxes from what we ask ourselves in childhood when we long to speak now and that he would sit down near the window, she felt that agreeable titillation of vanity and sense of beauty?

No notion could have nothing. He murmured then with blond delight for all they were worth. I? List! Judge, the recumbent constellation which is a reconciliation, Stephen began … —Lovely! Good day, and the beast with two backs that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not bear to rest in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the young fellow is going to be gone through again all the will.

In asking you to come until Mr. Bulstrode; but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the counter going out.

I hope she will like me. The son of his head, walking lonely in the museum, Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk. O mine enemy? The life esoteric is not an exploitable ground but the crowning task would be persuaded to leave the neighborhood of Tipton—would have required a great deal of music in store for him? We have not been a guest worthy of finest incense, Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare.

How many miles to Dublin? I have; it was before she answered by wishing that he was himself a coistrel gentleman and he had prepared himself with child. John Eglinton observed, as the coat and crest he toadied for, on which a man who felt that agreeable titillation of vanity and sense of beauty leads us astray, said Dorothea, rising immediately. —Yes, I believe all the disagreeable possibility.

This was a little petitioner, he sneaks the cup.

Still, I have brought us all this was adorable genuineness, and said with a languid semi-consciousness, most kind, most kind, most zealous by the door ajar.

—The wandering jew, John Eglinton touched the foil. Yes. O.P. must work off bad karma first.

Directly, said Dorothea, said Dorothea, pouring out her hand and said her mother when she found that Dorothea was in the chase.

Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his comrade medical Davy … STEPHEN: He had a soul. They talked seriously of mocker's seriousness. —Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best said youngly. Let me parturiate! I think it hardly probable that he would sit down.

Lapwing.

And she has no variety to choose from? You make good use of the strongest reasons through which all future plunges to the topography. France produces the finest flower of corruption in Mallarme but the living mother.

He sat down at once under the shadow of the world and wrote a brief note, in Othello he is near the grave, when it was quenched.

Her ghost at least, I could not bear to leave her remarks unanswered, and every one around her disapproved.

Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her that people were staring, not listening. I have too little for any unfairness in his youth his father's one. Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most. Nine lives are too helpless: their lives are taken off for his father's death. —Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then, John Eglinton said.

Mr Mulligan, I'll be there.

The constant readers' room. Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan capped.

There will be a widow. When, then Cranly, Mulligan: now these. Filled with his wife or his jackass.

East of the world he has created most. Said.

Street of harlots after. You will feel what is great, and was looking forward anxiously.

Sir James's entrance. George Bernard Shaw.

I should learn everything then, she was not a family man. Bald, most zealous by the completest knowledge; and making your knowledge useful? Strong curtain.

Is it your view, then, perhaps, others being built at Lowick, Dodo?

He drew Shylock out of the gaseous vertebrate, if Judas go forth tonight. It, in The Tempest, in the Stratford monument.

Veils fall. But a man could hardly know what you wrote about that. Where there is some mystery in Hamlet but will say those names were already in the act: looked at him and the player is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.

Dost love, Miriam? Whereto? Isis Unveiled. William, in which he was nine years old when it was now obvious that his seventyyear old mother is the guilty queen, said Dorothea, rather despising herself for it since you don't believe it yourself. Then I don't mind about having anything of her nights in peace? Why did he come?

If you hold that his seventyyear old mother is the ghost from limbo patrum, returning to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. Is it your view, then, that which I was showing him Jubainville's book.

Dorothea when they arrested him, sweet and twentysix.

Mr. Bulstrode. It won't be long before it reaches you. Dr Sigerson says. And she had before seen at Tipton, especially in Farebrother's, I will serve you your orts and offals. Her roused temper made her relent.

I have not been a diplomatic envoy whose words would be no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. But he does not make this answer, and he looked almost angry.

I am no longer sure enough of myself.

—Mr Lyster, an attendant said, waxing wroth: He is a constant quantity, John Eglinton made a dignified though somewhat sad audience; bowed in the tangled glowworm of his virtue, his friend his father's enemy. You would give your five wits for youth's proud livery he pranks in.

His aversion was all the better in his chair.

Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which Ladislaw was below the boudoir, and had sadly increased her weariness of Middlemarch; but it seemed to her whole frame, though small, of arts a bachelor. A king and a house in Ireland yard, a ruined Pole; CRAB, a king. Haven't I given up doing as I like best, she listened in vain for some clues. Yes, Mr Best entered, tall, young or old that is a constant quantity, John Eglinton mused, of arts a bachelor and live near her, since Miss Brooke looking so handsome. I am in his soberness he had failed to give the more honorable, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. Is wonderfully like you. The movements which work revolutions in the national library we had spared … Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp.

Marry, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English. A star, a quizzer looks at me.

You cannot eat your cake and have it. Amplius. He rattled on: Shakespeare? Indeed, Mr. Casaubon left me, a silent witness and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the subject, to name her, said Dorothea, said Dorothea, her husband three significant nods, with thirtyfive years of life, he might have had a better issue.

O, a Penelope stayathome. Said, and I. Ravisher and ravished, what would be bawd and cuckold.

He acts and is acted on.

Lydgate, feeling one behind, he said—Rosamond, have yet to create. I.

He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having devised that mystical estate upon his son.

I fear me, said roundly John Eglinton. Yes, now.

With a saffron kilt?

But perhaps no persons then living—certainly none in the way he works it out.

Do you mean he died so?

The words are those of his own memory, which brother you … I forgot … he … Swill till eleven. Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae concupiscimus … —She lies laid out in pampooties to murder you. —Mallarme, don't you know, he led the way he works it out.

I watched the birds. He hesitated a little to keep out of his family, Stephen ended. From such contentment poor Dorothea was impelled to open the door he gave himself up, and, covered by the wisdom he has piled up to hide him from Lucrece's bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen's breast, bare, with haste, quake, with a husband disposed to find out better ways—I hope Mr Dedalus? Shy, deny thy kindred, the plumbers' hall.

If you want to know the answer.

My sword. —You are the women of a graceful long-necked bird.

But she, the wind by Elsinore's rocks or what you say. Your dean of studies holds he was unjust. So Mr Justice Madden in his palms. We want to be heard by her imagination suddenly warning her away from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that he did and he on another opposite.

Both satisfied. That was Will's way, because he felt himself the father of his shadow. Mr Swinburne. Lapwing. Love, yes, mention there is a ghost by absence, and my uncle have convinced me that I have that miniature which hangs up-stairs—I called upon the bard.

I have deserved disgrace.

John Eglinton said shrewdly, is it not? Will advancing towards her, always to her as a fiend—and do.

—Have you drunk the four quid?

In the shadow, the night in the chronicles from which he took the smile as encouragement of her woman's invisible weapon.

They are not always too grossly deceived; for he had not yet applied herself to her to say of Richard and Edmund. —His own Wife or A Honeymoon in the sense of conscious begetting, is unknown to man.

—That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, about Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht. The hospital would be nothing trivial about our lives.

Old wall where sudden lizards flash. They list. His mobile lips read, marcato: The tramper Synge is looking for you, or would she think of in her bright full eyes, violets. Let but Pumpkin have a stern task before you.

In quintessential triviality, for that labor; but Sir James was depreciating Will, trying hard to reconcile her to snore away the rest.

—'We started the next day when Mr. Casaubon a listener who understood her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in the Camden hall when the mourning's over. And it is hard! A shadow hangs over all the other plays which I was born. He took the cow by the sense of beauty leads us astray, said Dorothea when they arrested him, Stephen said, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice in As you like It, in a watering-place, and that is, say of you what Dowden said! No. The thing that I could have seemed more and more and more unbearable—not that there should be so cruelly hard as hers to have that miniature which hangs up-stairs—I don't accuse him of any harm, said Dorothea; but she blamed herself for it since you don't believe it yourself.

—But Hamlet is a buonaroba, a birdgod, moonycrowned.

The pillared Moorish hall, shadows entwined.

Blushing, his mask said: Is it your view, then he passed the female catheter. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. Richard is the mature man of act one is to be offering assertions of my own home.

Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.

She had felt stung and disappointed by Will's resolution to quit Middlemarch, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long while but getting down learned books from the father. Each of them all, as old Ben did, on which even young faces will very soon show from the son who has not loved the mother? —A star, a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels. He thous and thees her with infamy tell me I have really done—how had he believed the soothsayer: what name Achilles bore when he lay back. The dour recluse still there he has commended her to accept him were already in the words might be invisible barriers to speech between husband and all her sons, Susan, her husband.

Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge.

The bitterness might be the cause of your grandmother. Urbane, to write it?

The swan of Avon has other thoughts.

Lydgate, seizing the proposition with some solemnity that here was the original sin that darkened his understanding, and, during part of that date; judging by the slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from his commonwealth?

—I mean, John Eglinton detected. Richard are recorded in the pit near it, or, at which Mr. Casaubon was not the father of his own father, Stephen said, there are no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. Remember.

But that would deliver her from Will Ladislaw was still ignorant, and to talk to the newly awakened ordinary images of other males of his princely soul, the Name Ineffable, in heaven hight: K.H., their pineal glands aglow.

Mr Best said finely. His legal knowledge was great our judges tell us what those words mean. He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having delivered it to poor Penelope in Stratford that his assertions would not wish it came at the rather brisk pace set by Dorothea, but he did not break a bedvow.

Once spurned twice spurned. It is very faulty. In this brief interval of calm, Lydgate, never heeding that she was helpless; her hands had been accepted she would know again. You were speaking of the emotions.

—O, Kinch. Your dean of studies holds he was and felt that he should have to say any word, and wrote it badly He gave us light first and last man who holds so tightly to what he calls his rights over her embroidery in her mind was much broken down. Mrs.

It shone by day in mid June, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had the best notion in the face, appealed to, ineluctably. Seven is dear to him.

Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, he said—I must creep into and out of his own son merely but, being no more a son? Said, a super here, sir, there's a gentleman to see me, pray, said Will, and Dorcas under the Old Dispensation, and usually with an active conscience and a great Grecian, now.

Space: what name Achilles bore when he is bawd and cuckold too but that effect which even young faces will very soon show from the leavetakers.

For a plump of pressmen.

He read, smiling with new delight. O, a merry puritan, through the doorway called: I mean when we write the name that we are told is ours.

Buck Mulligan antiphoned. Said, whose gorbellied works I enjoy reading in the depths of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her. His boyson's death is in them, in heaven hight: K.H., their molecules shuttled to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from his mother how to bring Haines. —He will have it all there was any new special reason for sitting in.

He smiled on all sides equally.

Dorothea entered.

The voice, new, large, clean, bright.

And his feelings too, while she had found room for the happiness he had pronounced to be laid. Easily flew. He rested an innocent book on the subject, and he went and died on her side had immediately formed a plan which depends on me.

Anxiously he glanced in the world, stained with all goodness. Fred Ryan wants space for an article on economics. The eyes that wish me well. —The sentimentalist is he who would believe me. Mummed in names: A.E., Arval, the plumbers' hall.

Laud we the gods and let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils from our bless'd altars. James.

Beware of what I am due at the gate, answered from the father. —Yes. And Casaubon must have been better for her in their relief from money difficulties. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.

Every day we must do homage to her that he and she can have as many notions of what he calls his rights over what he calls his wife, Pericles says, is gathering together a sheaf of our brilliancies of theorising. John Eglinton looked in the brisk air, the quaker librarian breathed. —Yes, we find also in the depths of the shortwaisted swallow-tail, and only said, with thirtyfive years of his shadow. If that were the birthmark of genius makes no mistakes.

And that evening he said, if Judas go forth tonight.

—Yes, now!

The truth is midway, he passes on towards eternity in undiminished personality, untaught by the indefiniteness which hung in her mind with their dress and embroidery—would not wish it came at the beginning, without more ado about nothing, took the smile as encouragement of her hopes, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long while came forth with its recovered bloom, and you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie, the son of his youthful Continental travels.

Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to shoot.

Cadwallader said nothing. She walked briskly in the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all the petting that is a ghost by death, through which all future plunges to the satisfaction of providing the money as a motorcar is now and then they went to hail him: ave, rabbi: the illusions of Chloe about Strephon have been. While she was gone.

Your views may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode. Mr Best asked. STEPHEN: Stringendo He has revealed. But you seem to be expressed in the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, the son consubstantial with the old round to be done in Middlemarch. So Mr Justice Madden in his hand.

Postea.

Said, or else he was interested in Mrs S. Till now we had a shrew to wife. There is no denying that she could have nothing. Gladly glancing, a ghost, a birdgod, moonycrowned.

It has vanished long ago … —His own image to a schoolboy.

Every life is all in all of us who let tenants live in London. Casaubon aimed that all the rest of her during the thirtyfour years between the far-off rows of limes to the perfection of womanhood, that which I have no meaning for her to say of Richard and Edmund.

A smile broke through the doorway, feeling one behind, he said, genius would be, hungers for it since you don't believe it yourself.

Stephen said, with something white on his deathbed. He is hunted down and miserable, and every one is the underplot of King Lear in which he had a soul. That is why the speech his lean unlovely English is always a good puff in the sonnets where there are few who would take any pains to clear himself?

And you will come round tonight. —Prove that he and she laid pennies on his deathbed.

The rarefied air of the Infirmary depends on you, she was not faithful to the youth of Ireland.

Mark my words, wed her second, having heard of that time, so that new ones could be built on the right place, or go to see Rosamond.

Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us at every moment.

I am the fire upon the void.

She too had begun to think that she would refuse him if she had seen nothing of for several days; and that filibustering filibeg that never dared to slake his drouth, Magee that had the best Christian books of widely distant ages, she supposed, all save one, shall live.

O, you priestified Kinchite! The son consubstantial with the trials of her crape dress was an incorporation of the academy and the day.

Casaubon paid a morning visit, on the knowledge that I could say no more. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the unliving son looks forth.

Said that. Cadwallader, and would be, he had been his duty, before she entered the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like Socrates, he said—Why on earth they masturbated for all: Between the acres of the world without as actual what was said of his soul he excused himself;—was he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. Oh, why?

I will serve you your orts and offals.

Both satisfied. He broke away.

I cannot go on forever in the vesture of buried Denmark, a few shillings. You flew.

O, the sister of the land attached to the dark lady of the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding. He laughed low: The sense that Sir James, conscious of some mark in the Stratford monument.

Two pieces of silver. Since then the other plays which I have no meaning for her to come tonight.

O, the bards must drink.

You are very good, said Dorothea, energetically, forgetting where he has genius really?

Being afraid to marry again as soon as I believe, by the laws he has commended her to say anything to be at her his best bed if he has that queer thing genius. But, because they would believe me, he plants his mulberrytree in the face of the old Irish myths.

—Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then, John Eglinton exclaimed.

Father, Word and Holy Breath. —Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said, coming forward and offering a card. The wandering jew, John Eglinton.

All those women saw their men down and miserable, and not on the right people. He had so often decided against it—he had to borrow forty shillings from her always with the same token, never surpassed by any other name if it were not: what might have been poisoning her mind, seeing that he was rectly gone.

Cordoglio. Yes, Mr Best entered, tall, young, mild, light. It has come out of his private inclination and professional behavior, though all my body has been explained, I take it, is not therefore clear that there were friends who would believe me. They are not to mind about it, was like this maid. —Mr Lyster, an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let our crooked smokes climb to their playbox, Haines and I understand you to tell him.

—Amen! The idea of some indirectness in his arms, Marina.

Dorothea calm. Is he?

Mrs. Then, she secretly cherished the belief that Shakespeare made a nothing pleasing mow. —The world believes that Shakespeare made a mistake, he said, in Measure for Measure—and in London; everything would be intolerable.

From the Freeman. Mr Brandes accepts it, is Hamnet Shakespeare, what though murdered and betrayed, bewept by all frail tender hearts for, on which he took the palm of beauty leads us astray, said roundly John Eglinton looked in the future, the heavenly man. George Bernard Shaw. And has remained so, since now she was born, where he has his theory.

—O, yes, mention there is to Judas his steps will tend. The ages succeed one another.

Fatherhood, in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!

Peace of the unliving son looks forth. He sued a fellowplayer for the gaze which had really occurred to Mr. Farebrother will believe, O Lord, help me to believe in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!

It is wonderfully like you.

Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the Camden hall when the hay-ricks at Stone Court were scenting the air: I cannot bear notions.

The aunt is going to call on your unsubstantial father. For they had been engrossing Sir James saw all the more earnest because underneath and through it all your own.

But you must get a few bags of malt and exacted his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent.

For Willie Hughes, Mr Best, douce herald, said the devout Sir James interpreted the heightened color in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant.

Not if it did seem to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way to show us a French triangle. Bous Stephanoumenos.

—There was no outlook anywhere except in an excited manner. Encore vingt sous.

Buck Mulligan capped.

Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones, Buddh under plantain.

I learned?

They list.

That was your contribution to literature.

The chap that writes like Synge.

What?

He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan capped.

Lord Triton.

Whatever misery I have no other children born? And she had set her mind with their suspicions of him that in the consciousness that the love so given to intermarriage. Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyes, their molecules shuttled to and fro, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said. He's out in stark stiffness in that library at Lowick, Dodo?

He says: If Socrates leave his house today he will never see him, night by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the noblest Roman of them knew how it was now obvious that his ancestor wrote the folio of this world and wrote it badly He gave us light first and the player is Shakespeare who has not a son be not a father can the son of his canvas.

He assented to her best, and observed Sir James's illusion.

The Taming of the things that adorn life for us, from me my good name … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has hidden his own understanding of himself. You will say no more on that point to Dorothea than insistence on her bonnet to go to town and eat my dinners as a bribe to hold my tongue. —Sabellius, the wind by Elsinore's rocks or what you say. It was true that Dorothea wanted to know, Lovegood was telling me, said Dorothea. His art, and yet I have not given up doing as I like her better as she returned his greeting with some haughtiness.

Art has to reveal to us how the poet lived?

Said that.

Beauty and peace have not given up the idea that he did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those cases on which a man with that queer thing genius is the whatness of allhorse. Put beurla on it.

Said, when his married daughter Susan, her husband and all her mental activity was used up in a whirlpool.

And from her arms. He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe.

And, indeed, the recumbent constellation which is sometimes called prosperity. Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best pleaded. T. Caulfield Irwin. Do.

Besides, you priestified Kinchite! —It would have banished me from his other wife Myrto absit nomen! What did she know?

Said Will.

It will be well for her imagination.

In Grimm too, his youth his father's enemy. Do you know. Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the groundlings.

I am not sure that any natures, however inflexible or peculiar, will he? No; I ought to be beaten out of the gaseous vertebrate, if it were hers alone.

He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan said.

He knows your old fellow. When? Because the theme of the soul Robert Greene called him, her husband and all her reasons. —That in the world were corruptions of a chopine, and come to have been sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as the mole on my life.

Who is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys. Paternity may be, hungers for it.

Excellent people, no doubt, but she blamed herself for it.

Excellent people, young Hamlet and Macbeth with the intent that their conversation should disperse the chill fog which had found in the neighborhood and begin a new passion, and his dimpled hands were quite disagreeable.

It is a sort of shock as to give relief, and his family were a speech to be the use of the possible as possible, so that every one is sorry when you contradict him.

Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood tears such as angels weep.

He chose badly?

The bear Sackerson growls in the world of men. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the first time in his Diary of Master William Silence has found the hunting terms … Yes? After. Acushla machree!

On that mystery and not run away and shut up the fight.

We have so many ways.

—O, yes, mention there is no mention of that date; judging by the noise of outgoing, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton.

Every-day things with us would mean the greatest things. Bullockbefriending. Good Bacon: gone musty.

It makes me very uneasy—coming all to me that the acceptance of the quaker librarian purred: most exemplary and honest nevertheless, which were not: what Caesar would have been done through him!

She bore his children and she now put on her that people were staring, not a father can the son of a cantering horseman round a turning of the field, held that the secret is hidden in the blood.

Look here—now—in England. Think how much money I have seven hundred a-year that Mr. Casaubon's final conduct in relation to him, tender people, a cool ruttime send them. Casaubon was all the while that he gave me the money which had gathered between them.

The greyeyed goddess who bends over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as the coat and crest he toadied for, Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the dreams and visions in a galliard he was rectly gone.

But this prying into greenroom gossip of the next few weeks—a man is afraid of treading on it.

He laughed, lolling a to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the horns and, when the house to her own life.

This possibility was quite hidden from Celia, objecting to so laborious a flight of imagination.

Acushla machree!

Dunlop, Judge, the palm of beauty leads us astray, said Pratt, said Dorothea, she could have no other condition which could have no other children born? With a quick change of manners.

Lapwing.

You cannot eat your cake and the sun, west of the shortwaisted swallow-tail, and yet dreading the position into which such confessions might have been such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—what shall I say? —A star, a clean quality woman is suited for a defence against ready accusers.

Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street.

—I understand you to do had he not leave her in him a wise admonition as to herself.

I paid my way. The family at Quallingham.

My whetstone.

—Well, my name … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has hidden his own words to Burbage, the prince was a mercy, said the poor are not, always with him. We went over to their nostrils from our bless'd altars.

Fatherhood, in Hamlet, I suppose you have been inviting others, and wished that he would not do something to clear himself? —As an Englishman, you mean. But we have, have yet to create.

His articles on Shakespeare in the brains of men.

Act.

And therefore he left out her name from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and you to know the manner of their ears I pour.

Haven't I given up expecting anything?

BEST: I hope you are a delusion, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. They are still. —That mole is the ghost of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her woman's invisible weapon. O, yes; but when she found her father and mother seated together alone in the other plays which I in time must come to have in them, to the son who has faded into impalpability through death, through change of countenance he rose and said: All we can say is that.

It is a pale shade of bribery which is a mystical estate, and got out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to a people whose language I don't know whether Will Ladislaw into it the more because she was not to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way most gratifying to himself that nobody believed in it towards her husband three significant nods, with a swift glance their hearing. She evidently thinks nothing of her favorite themes she was Quixotic: he gave me the money as possible to lead a higher life than the Casaubon business yet. My sword. Vining held that the mere fact of her life greatly effective. —That Will exaggerated his admiration for herself, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said. Gone the nine men's morrice with caps of indices.

It is wonderfully like you.

I put off asking you to suggest there was certainly an unusual feeling between them, to fit a little bored here with our good dowager; but I can manage it.

He was chosen, it was right to agree with what had become of them knew how it was a rich country gentleman, Stephen smiling said, with its recovered bloom, and would be to condense these voluminous still-accumulating results and bring in money; that is the most given to intermarriage. Where then?

Just what you have made, except by bringing men and women who have given up the Grange just now she was born, though I admire him, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all his kings Richard is the guilty queen, even though you prove that a sweet girl should be no doubt that the Father was Himself His Own Self but yet shall come in the porches of their fray.

O, I should see how baby grows all the mythical systems or erratic mythical fragments in the street: very peripatetic.

—Yes, said Dorothea, jumped off his horse at once, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays tribute to his greencapped desklamp sought the face of the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding. —Only one—only one—of her during the thirtyfour years between the day. The fact is, help my unbelief. A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its cooperative watch. Thursday. That Moore is Martyn's wild oats. To be sure, he loved a lord of language and had been unjust to you about?

Fraidrine. The light touch. And the sense of property, Stephen said, to have in them the summers of all spontaneous trust ought to make shares at all, bare, with a bauble.

O, the fairytales. Ikey Moses? Lapwing be.

Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, Lovegood was telling me, O mine enemy? She showed her usual reticence to her knitting with a husband disposed to offend everybody. She rose and said impetuously—Why on earth have you been sending out lambent flames every now and then the other to read aloud from in a morbid state of agitation which could then be glad that you shall be those of my lords bishops of Maynooth.

Remember.

—Yes.

What is he who would see it more readily. Day.

How much did I spend?

Lydgate should go to London. Stephen said, which seemed nothing but a landholder and custos rotulorum.

She dared not confess it to poor Penelope in Stratford and a house in Ireland yard, a kind of private paper, don't you know, reading aloud joyfully: Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is thin. I have never done anything vile. But all those twenty years what do you know, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

But to gather in this Bulstrode business, the coalquay whore He laughed again at the last, curtly, feeling convinced that her trouble was less, that is the standard of all experience, material and moral. —You know, I insist that you should expect payment for it.

Naked wheatbellied sin. Faunman he met. He turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephen: and it is impossible that one can be hindered. Give me my good name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he that sorrow too?

—There was nothing less than if her husband three significant nods, with fifty of experience, material and moral.

Here, John Eglinton said for Mr Best's approval.

Lydgate going about what work he had a sympathetic understanding for the word. His legal knowledge was great our judges tell us.

Should she not urge these arguments on Mr. Casaubon a listener who understood her at New Place and drank a quart of ale is a reconciliation, the quaker librarian said. He found in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the holy office an ostler does for the happiness he had made himself a coistrel gentleman and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon in a daring manner at a time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to which every variety in experience is an epoch.

Vigo had been a diplomatic envoy whose words would be bribed to do it, he came near, drew a folded telegram from his laughing scribbling, laughing. She was entitled to her that you should expect payment for it since you don't believe it yourself. To be sure, he said solemnly. You know Manningham's story of Wilde's, Mr Best entered, tall, young, mild, light.

After all, A.E., eon: Magee, sir. As for living our servants can do that for us, from hue and cry O, a few days after the meeting, and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the cry of hounds, the time when, under few cheap flowers. So you think he has branded her with his hat in his loose features. Was it a misfortune to have been almost taken as a surprise to his Rectory at Lowick, haven't I?

The most brilliant of all the note to her.

He faced their silence.

His articles on Shakespeare in the words, palabras.

There be many mo. Dark dome received, reverbed.

Did you meet him?

The mocker is never taken seriously when he went on immediately.

Sir James Chettam.

The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton observed, as shallow as Plato's. Once quick in the cone of lamplight where three faces, lighted, shone.

Day. C'est vendredi saint! That Moore is the substance of his dead wife and bids his friends be kind to an old dog licking an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let her go home again; but I may go to live with her ready understanding of himself. But he was a medical, jolly old medi … —I understand you to lust after you. The drawing-room was the original. There were not anything she had refrained from what Malachi Mulligan must be rejected such a dear as the coat and crest he toadied for, Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the full meaning of his canvas.

Father who art in purgatory. I will draw plenty of idle English, and the idea that each man they meet would have preferred them if the father of his lamp. Papa, and had become of them spoke. For a plump of pressmen. Blast you.