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illegiblewords · 3 years ago

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ILLEGIBLE’S TOTALLY SUBJECTIVE FAVORITE EORZEA COLLECTION DESIGNS: MALE

I’ve mentioned in the past, the main thing that made me start playing FFXIV properly was seeing people’s character designs. I’m still honestly blown away by the creativity and range of approaches people bring to this game, so I’ve decided to be an absolute madwoman and break my favorites into subcategories to share with anyone curious.

And to be clear. I’m not going to do something so broad as “oh top ten in-general :3″ because that would be sensible. No, I’m going to do it for all the current combat jobs. And all the current races. And different genders within the races and combat jobs as things stand. And I’m going to make a model-focus subcategory. And there are gonna be LOTS. Because I seriously cannot understate how inspired I’ve been by this community, and after however many years I just feel the need to vomit some incredible visuals I’ve encountered at you guys lol.

NOTE: In an abundance of caution, I want to stress this list isn’t a value judgment on anyone but a fragment of things that blew me personally away. Looking at the DRK sections it will be immediately clear that I Illegible really like that edgy dark knight aesthetic lmao, but there are plenty of non-edgy dark knights that I also love to bits. Other people might not like edgy dark knights. Due to a combination of size and search constraints plus trying to keep gear somewhat varied, these glamours are just what wound up on this particular list of mine. I could make another list one day. Other people can make lists too that are totally different.

Also, I was originally going to make a single post that went over male and female options presented in the character creator but straight up tumblr wouldn’t let me save because it got too big. You can see the female character post here.

And without further ado, let us begin.

COMBAT JOB GLAMOURS

PALADIN

- A Sinner’s Call by Skollhati Wolfhead

- Divine Judgment by Seth Alexander

- Chevalier by Avenaux Dzemael

- Holy Blade of the Goddesses by Lys Aludra

- Metal Against the Clouds by Leon Aquitaine

- Spiky Paladin by Hunty Tohsaka

- Ishgardian Nightwatch by Leon Aquitaine

- The Centurion by Kaien Shimazu

- Veteran Knight by Jax Shadowbane

- Archadian Magister: Chaos, Walker of the Wheel by Callum Crossy

WARRIOR

- Coerthan Berserker by Xennon Song

- Skullrender by Xennon Song

- Red Maw by Remearus Maes

- Mistbeard’s Guardian by Galandor Atreides

- Ash Fender by Keiteaux Kisarre

- Wandering Beast by Jax Shadowbane

- Battle Worn by Lyrus Omega

- At The End Of All Things by Leon Aquitaine

- Demon Warrior by Ravian Ild

- Chieftain by Topher Kyo

DARK KNIGHT

- The Deepshadow by Erin Arckanger

- Nightmare of the Paragons by Papa Cool'down

- The Oathkeeper by Dividus Yliaster

- Deus Knight by Dan Var

- Rage Awakened Final Mix by Fortnite Ninja

- Bale by Xennon Song

- Vampire Baron Knight by Lud Wachtel

- Gothic Souls by Krosah Makara

- Lunarian Knight by Xennon Song

- The Descendent of Ascians by Skyion Skytiel

GUNBREAKER

- Soot-Scaled Striker by Callum Crossy

- Unbound Hecatonchires by Callum Crossy

- The Lone Gunbreaker by Sir Owl

- Alliance Commander by Nova Kie

- Gunblade of the Lost by Ludin Hreitharr

- The Filibreaker by Atticus Averbach

- Neo-Skallic Guardian by Leon Aquitaine

- A bulwark in brass and steam by Filibert Lilibert

- Plains Tribe Rite of Passage by Filibert Lilibert

- Spaceage cowboy by Phon Fawn

DRAGOON

- A Slumbering God’s Herald by Lud Wachtel

- The Elder Primals - Neath Dark Waters by Cassius Toledo

- The Occupied Drow City of Skalla by Leon Aquitaine

- Dravanian Viking by Sarafina Vadre

- The Wolf by J'roric Citlalloh

- Tribal Hrothgar Dragoon by Noxelus Virmire

- whitewind by Chiceneaux Selechant

- Edensguard by Kyo Ise

- Dragonblood Knight by Sylvaire Catrevaut

- Mercenary in Mixed Metals by Filibert Lilibert

SAMURAI

- The Dragon of Doma by Ky Tanimura

- Shadow of the Shifting Sands by Dai Tachibana

- Homura by Remearus Maes

- Monster Slayer by Kaien Shimazu

- Good Hunting by Remearus Maes

- Jury by Remearus Maes

- Ronin of the Steppe by Remearus Maes

- Dominicus Secutor by Remearus Maes

- Warg Samu by Fena Mizu

- White Dragon by The Solideizer

NINJA

- Armored Ninja by Ludger Magniar

- Desert Scar by Magnus Wolfwood

- Righteous Assassin by Lys Aludra

- Classic Shinobi Traditional Ninja Garb by Mog Champ

- White Dragon by King Resh

- Deadly Emissary by Lys Aludra

- night’s blessed by Chiceneaux Selechant

- Umbral Blade by Arik Nergui

- Ascianssin by Dragoon Scythe

- Wolf of Twelveswood by Punch Mage

MONK

- Fists of the Sun by Alois Lefleur

- Inner Beast by T'yan Ardeo

- Vathliege Samurai by Austen Bloodspatter

- Ala Mhigan Monk by D'jango Dojango

- Bozjan Brawler by Sahl Suh

- Liberator by Thriced Talon

- Flightless Hawk by Remearus Maes

- Firebrand by Lys Aludra

- Debugging in Process by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Falling Eagle by Feather Relanah

BARD

- Reaper-Inspired Bard by Flower Blossom

- Purest arrow by Lys Aludra

- Hunter of Lost Souls by Sahl Suh

- Bloodsinger by Lys Aludra

- Wanderer of the Past by Nyuki Dewinter

- Maelstrom Song by J'roric Citlalloh

- Sand Hunter by R'yo Aderyd

- Tactical Automaton by Lys Aludra

- Ballads of Azim Steppe by T'yan Ardeo

- Violet Archer by T'yan Ardeo

DANCER

- Flying Guillotine by Punch Mage

- Shadowed Step by Callum Crossy

- Rift Crusader by Onuki Saiga

- Prince Ali by Leisha Aysheen

- Battle Dancer by Ray Stormbringer

- Paglth’an Dancer by Vib'e Cheque

- Waterfall Adagio by T'yan Ardeo

- Memories of a Silhouette by Damien Cavalier

- Midnight Mint by Violet Wooden

- The Dancing Plague by Geraltus D'doritus

MACHINIST

- Fran - Chase by Goelia Sarantia

- Gunslinger by Lys Aludra

- Well-Stocked Sky Pirate by Sari Mogari

- Bozjan Ops by Ilium Lavendeer

- Wild Western Demon Hunter by Mori Sumire

- High Class, High Seas by Yannick Ostheimer

- Onmyo Bullet by Uskhal Dalamiq

- The Wanderer by Dividus Yliaster

- Wildfire by Lys Aludra

- Intrepid Expeditioner by Brazen Elk

BLACK MAGE

- Bohemian Mage by Darmoreaux Lestrange

- Bonewicca Cultist by Baruk Twinfang

- Chosen of Thal by Jophrey Lethe

- Abyssal Wizard by Jarvis Brakkenwork

- Summer Augurer by Uskhal Dalamiq

- the dark wizard by Eldar Claymore

- Masque of the Red Death by Junius Naenia

- Desert Cultist by Mayo Takoyaki

- Herald of the Zodiac - Geminis by Leisha Aysheen

- Herald of the Zodiac - Aries by Leisha Aysheen

SUMMONER

- Desert Emperor by Nilla Balthasva

- Arch Demon Summoner by Demnoc Crohn

- Verbatim by Twitch Prime

- Shinshoku by Callum Crossy

- The Fool by Bruno Brecher

- The Wandering Mage by Camilla Croft

- Gilded Evoker by Zionek Aurum

- Ensorceled Evoker by Haereidin Doeszwynsyn

- Dusk Groom by J'roric Citlalloh

- Deepwood wanderer by Lys Aludra

RED MAGE

- Vagabond Prince by Falion D'erenian

- Ronkan Cultist by J'roric Citlalloh

- Desert Scout by Frahn Loxner'et

- The Goblin King by Leon Aquitaine

- Summoned Guardian by Leon Aquitaine

- Eastern Red Mage by Red Grande

- Royal Rose by Zanel Slayer

- dual wielding swords by Kiraster Alroumi

- Steampunk Red Mage by Ry Tempester

- Reiterpallasch Hunter by J'roric Citlalloh

- Stroll in the snow by Riv'ir Gwyn

WHITE MAGE

- Winter Druid by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Herald of the Light by Kazek Amilia

- Desert White Mage by Iosen Juan

- Menphina’s Beloved by Puk'a Sweetfellow

- The Ill-fated Doctor by Charybdis K'reon

- The Doc by Denmo Mcstronghuge

- Minion Masquerade- Anima by Aetherflow Media

- cold front by Chiceneaux Selechant

- Secret Keeper by Feather Relanah

- Forest Mage by Sylviel Terrechant

SCHOLAR

- Studium Provost by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Field Medic by Seyo Senpai

- Stayin Classy Highlander Scholar by Aetherflow Media

- Writer of Fates by Olli Cannoli

- Secret of Nym by Nicky Tilmit

- Scholar of the Wilds by Sohk'yon Ayhan

- The First Cartographer by Edeon Vails

- Warg Sage by Ricola Tesla

- Dark Eastern Healer by Teru Nashira

- Sad Angel by Liam Gray

ASTROLOGIAN

- Jewel in the Sands by Vosric Oros

- Oracle of the East by Zyrus Highwind

- Golden Sun by Jarvis Brakkenwork

- Dalamiq Seer by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Misfortune Teller by Sahl Suh

- The Red Card by Yujin Seo

- Forgiven Soothsayer by Mongoose Mandolin

- Catharsis by Edeon Vails

- Proud Wave by Khurt Wagner

- Alpha Reticulii by R'yo Aderyd

BLUE MAGE

- King by Ray Fontelon

- Imposter Red Mage by Jarvis Brakkenwork

- Le Cirque Du Rosier by Callum Crossy

- Cobalt Enchanter by Tyo'li Wolndara

- Blubomb by Frahn Loxner'et

RACE GLAMOUR SPILLOVER

HYUR MIDANDER

- Faraam by Remearus Maes

- Gate Keeper by Remearus Maes

- The Guardian by Kizake Hayashi

- Mistbeard by Remearus Maes

- Blood Hunter by Lys Aludra

- Jiangshi by Dezel Windriders

- Alliance Salvager by Remearus Maes

- Edengrace Conqueror by Lys Aludra

- Bozjan Rampage by Xennon Song

- Northern Banneret by Lys Aludra

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Fists of the Sun by Alois Lefleur

- Ronin of the Steppe by Remearus Maes

- Armored Ninja by Ludger Magniar

- Vagabond Prince by Falion D'erenian

- Bloodsinger by Lys Aludra

HYUR HIGHLANDER

- From Darkness Comes Light by Niran Ashbel

- Black Wolf by Night Mazino

- Murderous School Bus by Night Mazino

- Desperado Breaker by Julies Solomon

- WW2 Pilot by Orillion Aldoreel

- Demon Hunter by Duffy Gelatoni

- Maelstrom Duelist by Roscoe Rackham

- Black Dragon by Lophen Leif

- Weathered Wanderer by Goro Yamaguchi

- Ravager by Night Mazino

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Jewel in the Sands by Vosric Oros

- Murderous School Bus by Night Mazino

- Desert White Mage by Iosen Juan

- Stayin Classy Highlander Scholar by Aetherflow Media

- Dravanian Viking by Sarafina Vadre

ELEZEN

- Lost Thief by Kaunoet Tyshatont

- Princely Protector by Liam Gray

- Cold Mornings, Warm Hearts by Leon Aquitaine

- I don’t know what a swash is but I’m buckling it by Raythe Ondore

- Peregrine by Yannick Ostheimer

- Obsidian and Blood by Leon Aquitaine

- Obsidian Gold by Arius Althea

- Purple Mage by Kaunoet Tyshatont

- Lord Archer by Mori Sumire

- Angel of Temperance by Agana Belea

FAVORITE MODELS:

- cold front by Chiceneaux Selechant

- Angel of Temperance by Agana Belea

- Lost Thief by Kaunoet Tyshatont

- Oracle of the East by Zyrus Highwind

- Ishgardian Nightwatch by Leon Aquitaine

LALAFELL

- Berserker by Munchkin Doofus

- Crimson Dragoon by Janaan Fabre

- Tiny Fist by Barca Ul'nanaca

- Chimera Dragoon by Janaan Fabre

- Royal n’ Loyal by Janaan Fabre

- Manor Estoqueur by Lia Tales

- Stargazer by Ikki Kohi

- Hazardous Caster by Astrancea Quasar'ae

- White Wolf Healer by Pickle Nibbler

- Bard of the Forest by Ryker Nightingale

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Stargazer by Ikki Kohi

- White Wolf Healer by Pickle Nibbler

- Well-Stocked Sky Pirate by Sari Mogari

- Tiny Fist by Barca Ul'nanaca

- Plains Tribe Rite of Passage by Filibert Lilibert

MIQO’TE

- Fran - Be Quiet by Goelia Sarantia

- The Assassin by Akira Tia

- Warrior of the Sands by U'zolwe Tia

- The Silencer by Grayson Foxworthy

- nemesis by M'rhene Tia

- Caecius by Callum Crossy

- The Imperial by Rein Drops

- Storm Duelist by K'aihx Nianh

- Cyber Mage by L'unick Tia

- T-53M: Omega by Lib'ra Jarilo

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Fran - Be Quiet by Goelia Sarantia

- Ala Mhigan Monk by D'jango Dojango

- Cobalt Enchanter by Tyo'li Wolndara

- Edensguard by Kyo Ise

- Maelstrom Song by J'roric Citlalloh

ROEGADYN

- Sin Eater Forgiven Wrath by Arkhon Dullgaroth

- Platebreaker by Biggus Dickkus

- Berzerker Warrior by Cata Clysm

- Dravanian Shadow Knight by Galandor Atreides

- Santa Claus by Aetherflow Media

- Knight of the East by Galandor Atreides

- Roegadyn Samurai by Raiden Hagane

- The Real Barbarian by Milla Lariswind

- The Discipulus by Haereidin Doeszwynsyn

- Cactpot Crackpot by Kaemin Moore

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Knight of the East by Galandor Atreides

- Flying Guillotine by Punch Mage

- The Fool by Bruno Brecher

- Battle Claus by Bard Bro

- The Real Barbarian by Milla Lariswind

AU RA

- Fatewalker by Kaien Shimazu

- Combat Casual by Arik Nergui

- Suzaku’s Champion by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Herald of the Zodiac - Taurus by Leisha Aysheen

- The Anti-Paladin by Bastion Blackwater

- Zero by Ace Valstra'liah

- Elegant Duelist by Yoni Neel

- Herald of the Zodiac - Pisces by Leisha Aysheen

- Valkyrie by Rogan Hunter

- Devout of the Sun by Uskhal Dalamiq

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Herald of the Zodiac - Pisces by Leisha Aysheen

- Combat Casual by Arik Nergui

- Samurai of Alexander by Ky Tanimura

- Winter Druid by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Herald of the Zodiac - Geminis by Leisha Aysheen

HROTHGAR

- Snowfall by Ese Pajic

- Heavy by Radio Jackun

- Defender of the Forest by Hana Kagura

- Risen Dynasty by Zeth Xerval

- Forgiven Pride by Yoshi Pendragon

- Queen’s Guard by Sahl Suh

- Lord of Umbral Pyre by Stahlhart Vahn'reiz

- Jade Maw by Shin Okusawa

- Einherjar by Baruk Twinfang

- The Exorcist by Haereidin Doeszwynsyn

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Heavy by Radio Jackun

- Tribal Hrothgar Dragoon by Noxelus Virmire

- Gunblade of the Lost by Ludin Hreitharr

- Desert Scar by Magnus Wolfwood

- Risen Dynasty by Zeth Xerval

#Eorzea Collection #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #FF14 #Final Fantasy 14 #FFXIV Glamours

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siderealxmelody · 3 years ago

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Deception {Abraxas/Indech}

Abraxas moved through the room, checking and double checking the levers. Sir wouldn't like it if something went wrong, especially if it was because of him.

He swallowed, fingers fluttering over the pieces of bread and cheese in his robes. He really didn't want to go to bed hungry again. He needed to eat some more soon, he was feeling weak. Once Sir had dismissed him he slipped into a corner and nibbled at his bread and cheese. He knew he could make more food but he was too weak to force his will into that shape.

He peeked out from his little alcove and saw Uncle Arius. He was speaking, and pointing at him. He shrank back in his alcove.

"Arius I don't pass judgments on your...lifestyle. Don't pass judgments on mine."

"I am not passing judgments on you Sigê. I am just trying to educate you. You remeber what our lives were like. Our Mentors were not nice but this -"

"He is my apprentice, he will continue my work. That's the point of his existence. He was not made to do what you and Zenia have done. Mingling blood is one thing, but to have a child naturally? As if we need to back to such primitive ways."

Abraxas shrank back, but their conversation moved on. He wouldn't have his notes burned tonight - hopefully.

He was fascinated with Zenia, he had never seen a Tel-Assari carry a child. They were made when their Mentor deemed it was time. All things were done so Tel-Assari could keep their work and experiments going. Maybe if this was a success she'd let him ask his questions. She had said after this he would be rewarded for his hard work. He wanted to understand how it worked.

He wondered if he'd do that or have a child like her. It looked like a hard of work.

He nearly jumped as the gateway in the far corner of the room whirled to life. The energy coming from it wasn't the thing that made him awestruck. It was the music, an eerie lilting thing. He'd heard of Da'at spoken in hush tones late into the night. He usually fell asleep under his Mentor's desk as he muttered on Da'at and mathematics. Was this Da'at then? A lilting eerie song?

He had never understood music, notnthe pleasure the humans and Cubi gained from it. Without being able to break it down and understand it's nuances what was the point of it? He hoped this wasn't Da'at, he was a little disappointed.

The energy arched and crackled around the room, the other Tel-Assari moving to stabilize it. Arius and Zenia gazed up at the gateway. Zenia was the lead scientist, she was the one who should go through. But Abraxas frowned as Arius barred her and strode up the steps.

"If you take this from me Arius I will never forgive you."

"So don't forgive me, just take notes. I won't risk the child in you for -"

"The child? You worrying about the life in me as opposed to the ones we already have? Let me through Arius, we will survive and our child will be better than us!"

Arius didn't answer her and stepped through the gateway. Abraxas wasn't sure what happened after that. The world seemed to spin and rend around him. He saw other worlds and things that defied coherent explanations.

He came to shaking and sweating in his little alcove. He jumped as he felt soemthing bang above his head. Sir was staring at him, he was lit by an eerie glow.

"Don't look at me like that Abraxas, come. We must leave."

Abraxas slowly slid toward him, wincing as his arm was grabbed and he was hauled away. Sigê didn't let him look back. They moved through The Tula Meadow, the grasses and trees artificially kept alive by magic and rot. Abraxas shied away from their branches, Indech once said that the dead Tel-Assari are given to the trees to devour. He didn't know then how important this place would become, how it would become the valley that would end and begin the world.

That the collective knowledge of their kin existed in this land - Tula was apparently named for Toula Thelesis. She was the one who founded this place to amass the collective knowledge of their race.

As they raced through the trees, Abraxas glanced at his father. In these fleeting moments he could almost fool himself into thinking he cared for him. Had he liked working for her? Had he mourned her death?

He glanced back at the twisting and arching Spires of their library - deep in the valley. The Library of Toula stood tall and proud. Made of thornwood and alabaster. He wondered if she would have liked him.

"Keep up Abraxas, we need to -"

Abraxas and Sigê both stumbled as the ground shook. Sigê grimaced and picked Abraxas up and closed his eyes. He attuned their bodies to the wind, racing away from the horror.

Abraxas was set down on the steps to the Dormitaries. Sigê was looking at him, Abraxas waited for orders but Sigê only sighed and patted his head.

Before Abraxas could tell Indech and his siblings anything. Indech was already punching him.

"My parents are dead because of you Abraxas!"

"N - no! No! I know they're not. Ada would have told me! I - I know they're not -"

Indech shook Morozko's hand off, little Vairya sat at their feet crying. She was clutching a journal, had it been her mother's? Was is it the one Zenia had sworn he'd stolen?

Abraxas forced himself to stand and look at Indech.

"I know where they are. They're aren't dead Indech. I can prove it."

He lead Indech back through the ever watching trees, and through the library. The archivists here payed them no attention. Abraxas took him down and down till they hit the tunnels.

"Don't worry, the Harbinger don't come here."

Abraxas took him to the room they'd been in. Arius was still there, pouring over a notebook.

"Ada! Ada!"

Indech ran to his father but he didn't look up, only shook him off and kept writing.

"You shouldn't have come back Abraxas."

Both whirled to where Sigê stood with three of the Order. The three who would go on to found the three Grisha Houses, but no one knew that then.

"A -Ada? What -"

"Grab him."

Indech moved to stop them but was held back while Abraxas's arms were wrenched behind his back.

Sigê moved through a doorway that wasn't there before, had the gateway worked? Abraxas felt his pulse quicken, maybe it was just a secret? Maybe that's why Sir had -

But what he was seeing when he was dragged through the doorway didn't make sense. There was a creature in the corner of the room, it's features kept blurring in and out of focus.

"Behold Da'at!"

Abraxas tried to shy away from Sir's words but the men holding him didn't let him.

"I - I thought Da'at was everywhere Sir? I thought it was the energy that permeated every living thing."

Sigê waved him off and crouched down to the thing. It's features whirled faster. Q

"That is all still true but I imagine that this is the heart of it. The Maker in the midst of it all. Am I right?"

There was a silence and then all at once static in his mind. He saw everyone else wince, so they must hear it too.

I am none of these things. I simply always have been.

Sigê eyes light up and he stood. It spoke in all their voices Abraxas knew. Just like it knew how to speak their tongue.

"Can you die?"

The static was was less this time.

Yes. But I sense that isn't what you actually mean. I will not stay dead for long. I am eternal.

"Are you God?"

One of his captors shouted before Sir could ask it another question.

There is no God. There is simply the way of things and the way they interact with each other.

There was no static this time. Abraxas had an unsettling realization that he wasn't the only one to notice that.

Sir turned away from the thing, it now looked like a mix of a Fox and Wolf. Abraxas thought if he stared at it long enough he could see stars and planets in its fur.

Then there was the blood, it flowed from its belly. It hadn't moved to stop Sir as he tore through it. The blood was pulled from it and into a basin.

Sigê turned to look at Abraxas.

"This is your fault, the valves and things failed because of you. You know you must atone now don't you? You ruined our work, you ruined my name. Strip."

Abraxas shook his head, trying to pull away from the hands. Sigê sighed and moved touching the back of his neck.

----------

Indech screamed, finally remembering he had a voice again. The air shuddered as he did, as if it cried with him. Sigê sighed and stared at him.

"Stop that, this room is calibrated just right. I don't need your power ruining it. Why Arius and Zenia thought it was a good idea to bring those powers back is beyond me. Strip him."

He turned back to the gaurds who did as he was told. Indech watched in shock and horror as Abraxas was lead to the basin. The runes glowed on his skin, like this Indech was painfully reminded just how different they were.

Abraxas was just an automaton, a clone as was Uncle Sigê. They could breed true but very few Tel-Assari did anymore. It was a waste of time and resources. Sometimes Indech wondered if his parents had him and his siblings out of love or out of an interest to see what they'd be like.

The Tel-Assari chose their scholarly pursuits over a natural family. Apparently they'd chosen their work over the powers they held in their blood.

Abraxas was placed into the basin and Sigê turned to Indech.

"You will continue your parents work till we find your mother and that thing inside her. Come find me when Abraxas awakens."

"I - if I refuse?"

"He is an automaton Indech, he will always be not like you. We were made to serve, to continue our Master's work. Don't deny him his purpose.

Indech felt his blood boil, the ground around him cracked and splintered.

"I will kill you, I will break you like you deserve Sigê."

Sigê only blinked and turned away, he busied himself as the others left. Indech didn't notice or care, simply knelt at the basin's side.

"I forgive you Abraxas do you hear me? I forgive you. This wasn't even your fault. I will -"

"I hope you do."

Indech turned to look up at him. Sigê stood with him.

"I am defective. It - I felt like I was ripping myself in two for ordering what I did to Abraxas. But it is the nature of our work, it was made for. I - I hope you erase me Indech - I have failed my maker and my apprentice."

Sigê turned and left them alone. Indech looked to the thing, it had encased itself in a shell of rock and glass. It had gone silent now.

Indech began to look around the room, and vowed to end this. These experiments would only further to destory their people.

He couldn't hide this place, he knew the Harbingers and others would just unearth it again. But as Abraxas sat up, he vowed to help his friend at least.

He vowed to save at least one life in this madness.

A/N: The culmination of Tel-Assari's greed! Lol and it went downhill from here. After this came the Harbinger Civil War and their subsequent Subjugation. Abraxas eventually marries Vairya and they had two children, both of whom Vairya sacrifices for her spell to save Morozko's life. I low-key think that Abraxas also has Vairya go through the same ritual he went through. Indech is not pleased by any of this, especially when he sees how the pursuit of knowledge destorys all three of his siblings.

@sankta-alina-s

@xdarklingx

@siiinfully

@delicatelethalthings

#ooc post #reference #character check in

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jennamoran · 5 years ago

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On Ninuanni Names (17)

Earlier posts: (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, Interlude, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16)

Hi all!

In recent months I’ve been doing a writeup of the naming conventions in the lands beyond the world, principally for the use of people playing Glitch or creating NPCs for Nobilis. We’ve moved beyond a complete list of name elements, as shown in the Interlude, to a more detailed study of the common names and poetic fragments tied to each.

Let’s continue that now!

Secondary Elements

“But why did the summoning fail?” cried the cultist. “I performed each step unto perfection!”

“Meaning exists in combination, sir,” the ata-daemon said.

— from A Child’s First Book of Forbidden Rituals, by Verdant Garden Press

As noted earlier, it is acceptable to preface a secondary element with a bonus vowel; in certain cases, a doubled vowel or consonant may be made singular, or the first consonant of the secondary element will be doubled, at the point where the two elements are joined.

Much like the list of primary elements, the list below is not comprehensive; it covers only the name elements in common use or with a widely-known and agreed-upon interpretation. These elements are:

-------

ABSCESS -covefa

“a nacreous, benighted, twisted, coral-pinkened, and deep-knotted sore.”

-------

ARMY -airh, -aris, -arius, -ares, -eiro

“a surging tide that rides against the world.”

-------

BATTLEFIELD -bad, -baudes; -gond, -gund, -gunde; -had; -va, -vig, -wig

“one lone figure, trudging forward, through metal, ringing, screams, and blood.”

-------

BEAN -bian

“this plump and curled, deep-buried, sleeping seed.”

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BORDER [BORDER(-KEEPER)] -marca, -marka, -merca

“the sacred, winding border of these lands.”

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��CHARGE -vindra

“Charge! Unto the ruin of my foes!”

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CHILD -chan, -chun, -cine, -kun

“behold this youthful scion of the Not!”

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CHRYSALIS -man

“a chrysalis and crucible for something more.”

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CLAY -cadican, -gadigan

“a sculptor striving at the clay.”

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COMMANDER -aric, -eric, -ric, -rich, -ricus, -ry

“I alone may rule.”

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CONSORT -vius, -viv

“red-veiled consort, iron-crowned.”

[accepted variation] “this veiled consort, iron-crowned.”

Notes

This root, I ultimately decided, would be a reference to archaic marriage customs. The definitive reference for this archetype would be Matavius, consort to a notional ruler of the endless Not, “whose veil was trickling serpent’s blood and whose crown was an iron tower”---a surprisingly frequent and well-respected figure in children’s tales.

The option to dodge the word “red” is mostly just because I used it a lot in the prefixes. There isn’t any individual luthe pair where I felt it was completely out of line (blade-strewn consort is probably the worst case there, while axe-blood consort, boar consort, and requiem consort all sort of take advantage of it), but I felt players should have the option not to conflate the two kinds of red.

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CROWN -iel, -iela, -il, -ila, -uil, -uila

“this rough-hewn, blade-edged, metal crown of ancient, storied Ninuan.”

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DARING -bald; -anda, -nand, -nanda, -nant, -nanta

“a transcendent will to dare the gnashing world.”

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DAY -dag, -dagis, -tag, -tach

“bright afternoon in flower.”

[accepted variation] “we stand within the flower of the day.”

Notes

A few of the prefix luthes contradict the idea that it’s afternoon, including, perhaps ironically, “bright;” thus, the variation.

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DEATH -das, -thas

“I open wide the gate to final shores.”

Notes

Probably influenced to a certain extent by the “Door Into Fire/Shadow/etc.” series.

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DESIRE -gern, -digern

“desire overcomes me.”

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DESTROYER -ariman

“destruction, to all things!”

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EAST -ester, -estre

“a falcon of the aeries of the east.”

Notes

This luthe, as might be expected, is also a generic poetic description for easterners—and particularly for Ninuanni from a particular portion of the Not, notionally easterly or northeasterly and somewhere in the middle band of far away, notable for its mountains and its rolling plateaus, its rivers and its steppes, its common use of hunting birds, its intense and colorful aurorae, and most of all for the “fisher’s star:”

A blue-white brilliance in the sky that “turns the rivers into paintings,” “wakes swarms of fireflies from the streams”—in both cases, metaphorically—and provides light almost in the league of the Earthly sun.

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ELEGY -treik, -tric, -trix; -vayne

“a requiem to what has gone before.”

Notes

Requiem for the elegy, or, Sisevayne, is one of the classic Moon Moon names of the Ninuanni, although sadly the luthe is merely repetitive rather than hilarious.

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ENDING -ander

“we stand within the shadow of the end.”

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ENEMY -drasteia

“Submit, or now be broken.”

Notes

I chose this luthe on the premise that someone named “enemy” is, at least notionally, an enemy to the person they’re talking to, rather than to themselves. Obviously, it remains legal for them to quote the luthe to characters they have no enmity to, or to be their own worst enemy---even if they aren’t constantly standing around repeating their name into a mirror---but if one does want to be one’s own worst enemy, standing around dramatically quoting poetry about your name into a mirror all day is, at least, a decent start.

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FEAST -nault

“my groaning tables call the guests to feast.”

Notes

That’s alarming! Talk to a carpenter!

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FEVER -mar, -maris, -mer, -meris, -mers, -mir, -miris; -quevir

“hot blood pounding, dizzy heat, a feverish delirium ...”

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FIRE -brand

“a colorless and ever-climbing fire.”

Notes

This luthe is most specifically a poetic description of the living fires found in certain portions—most often, swampy portions—of the Not.

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FLOWERS

-kai

“most beauteous of flowers.”

Notes

This is what you yell during karate sparring to flirt with your opponent.

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FOREST -vid, -vida

“the greenwood’s shadows deepen.”

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GAME -hild, -hilda, -hilt, -ilda, -ildi

“a glittering and ever-shifting game.”

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GOOD -co; -gud; -mad, -maph, -math

“this, I name the good.”

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GRAVE -stila, -stilla, -vald

“a six-foot bed gapes wide beneath white tree.”

[accepted variation] “behold the sacred chalice of the Host.”

[accepted variation] “granting rest to heroes, fools, and saints.”

Notes

I ultimately decided to just combine -stila (chalice) and -stilla (grave) into the same suffix, and made them both “grave,” even though “grave” and “chalice” seem like they’d be different words.

Now ...

The final correlation here between “grave” and “chalice” that this creates, I think, is primarily a linguistic one. Like, there are a few hints at a connection there, in the Ninuanni psyche and ethos ... but the first luthe variation, seen above, is probably much closer to a Ninuanni pun than to a poetic statement.

(I think I wrote it up as the chalice luthe first, before combining them, but I can’t remember for sure!)

The last variation exists mostly for the sake of generous grave, where the literal mention of graves in the prefix luthe felt like it clashed too much with the literal description of one in the suffix. It’s also arguably important for stomach-grave, since that’s implicitly, like, just, the stomach someone died in, and so having a tree and a dug-out grave there is kind of weird? I felt like the second variation was a little borderline, though, subtly the wrong flavor for a Ninuanni context? in a way I could never quite completely fix?

So I kept them both.

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GREED -avi

“a deep, unsated hunger.”

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GUARD -senta, -sontha, -suentha, -suintha, -suntha, -svintha, -swinth, -swintha, -swinthe, -swith

“a stalwart guard to stand athwart the way.”

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GUEST -gast, -gaster, -gastes; -bastus

“a guest to bring great pleasure to your feast.”

[accepted variation] “a guest to bring great pleasure to the meal.”

Notes

While I was fine with it for somebody named Feast Feast, I didn’t want to force you to have “feast” in both lines of your luthe if you were named Dinner Guest instead.

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HAT [HAT // HELM // MASK] -elm

“the hat I wear is fit to the occasion.”

[accepted variation] “as you would know, if you’d been looking at my hat.”

Notes

I like the variation better but thought it was a bit too tongue-in-cheek to be the standard version.

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HEART -hard, -hart

“flinch not before the horrors of the world.”

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HONOR

-rin, -rina, -ryna

“an altar to the honor of the Host.”

[accepted variation] “altar to the honor of the Host.”

Notes

There was no specific prefix that absolutely needs the variation, and most prefixes prefer the standard version, but there were enough combinations where it felt like the players’ tastes might lean towards the variant (e.g., Dedicated to Honor, Great Honor, Sublime Honor) that I decided to include it.

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HOUSE -gard, -garde

“a strong-built hall to hold the river-road.”

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JOY -uin, -win

“a brilliance of joy.”

[accepted variation] “yet subtly it glimmers through: that small, smug hint of joy.”

Notes

This is a case where the first draft of the luthe was the variation. Over time, I found it clunkier and clunkier, but I was still attached to it and when it worked it really worked ... so I replaced it, but also kept it around. ^_^

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JUSTICE -ce

“justice, pure and sweet.”

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KEEP -bur, -but, -buth; -bod; -rebic

“the might of the ancient keep.”

[accepted variation, barring some scholarly quibbles] “the ancient keep yet stands.”

Notes

The imagery I had here was mostly about people sallying out to defend a besieged, outdated, and ultimately doomed fortification, showing a last flare of will and power before the final night. I felt obligated to put in the mention of scholarly quibbles, IIRC, because I think that usually people with this name will have been named for such a keep’s defense decades or centuries after the keep in question has, technically, ceased to stand.

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LIFE -an, -ana, -en, -enne, -ian, -iana, -ienne; -gaya, -geniya

“I will not die today.”

Notes

One of my favorites.

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LIGHT -de

“blue-white blaze in a scaled sky, and rose aurora shivering.”

Notes

This luthe is most specifically a reference to the fisher’s star (above).

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LIKENESS -lec, -leik

“—or something like, at least.”

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LOCAL ARISTOCRAT [see below] -dau, -dav, -dava

“I am blood of the drumming city.”

Notes

The title of “local aristocrat” has no single specific translation—in European terms, it can correspond to ranks ranging from burgher to earl, depending on the region it’s attached to, when it fits well to European terms at all. Thus, the framing for this element is highly variable, and a player can pick essentially any minor title that attracts them (or just go with “local aristocrat.”) Pelidava, for instance, might translate into “axe-blood count;” Oeridau into “desert bourgeoisie;” and Ariadav into “virtuous city-specific aristocrat whose title does not translate well” ... it’s all in the player’s hands!

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LOVE -bia, -leova, -leuva, -lieva, -liva, -live, -luva

“love, my love, ah, love!”

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MERRIMENT

-ba, -bas, -bias, -bius

“a merry celebration! Hubbub, drink, and laughter will last long into the night.”

[accepted variation] “a merry celebration! Hubbub, drink, and laughter last until the day’s first light.”

Notes

The variation is mostly to dodge prefix luthes that also end with the word “night.”

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MONSTER -is

“undefeatable, and cruel.”

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ONE [(ONE)] -in, -’in

This root doesn’t have a proper luthe; instead, it’s the only diminutive form that happened to fit the general root structure. “Baltin,” for instance, is a diminutive for Baltemaris, Balterit, etc. ... but it can also just be read as “Bold One” or “Belted One.”

So the effective luthe, here, is to take the prefix luthe ... and then stop. Maybe you tweak it a bit? But then, stop.

There’s not much more to say about in/’in specifically, but we’ll probably talk more about diminutives in general at a later time!

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Anyway, that one seems like a good stopping place for the day. We’ll pick up from here next time with the luthe for PASSAGE!

#glitchrpg #nobilisrpg #excrucian

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spanky606 · 6 years ago

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Reposted from @supreme7evsol - Look up these people who played their roles in constructing the KJV Bible •Pytolemy Soter •Constantine •Sylvester and a host of many other priests, copts and later day hierarchs •Arius •King James •Sir Francis Bacon •Josephus There is some truth and there are some lies in the bible. The bible can be used to give credit and discredit Christianity which is why it was orchestrated for sociopolitical purposes of control after the Roman hierarchs were slipping the control of the Romulus & Remus tradition. Gotta use discernment by cross referencing scripts to other dogmas and spiritual philosophies. If folks would actually read it than listening now to motivational speakers all the time, it'll be easier to see inconsistencies. If the KJV Bible was all authentic, there would be no such thing as missing books. That's when one searches for truth in older philosophies. If anything, I briefly read something about the Ethiopian bible and plus, don't forget there are scrolls and scripts in the Vatican so how much do we know? Don’t believe anything anyone says till you research for yourself. I mean it’s out here...till the possibility of it being taken down. Don’t get too attached to any knowledge because there are things always being discovered and there are also things being falsified. Knowledge is infinite, and the only thing constant is change, just gotta find a rhythm...just don’t be a religious bully...till they provoke you lol #KJV #knowledge #gnosis #esoteric #13knowledge #esotericknowledge #occultknowledge - #regrann https://www.instagram.com/p/BujFTMjHLZj/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1fernd7drl08j

#kjv #knowledge #gnosis #esoteric #13knowledge #esotericknowledge #occultknowledge #regrann

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ulyssesredux · 7 years ago

Text

Proteus

Belluomo rises from the suck and turned back by the mallet of Los Demiurgos. Who? The country gentry of old playfellows. But she was not among the spluttering resin fires. Unheeded he kept at a calf's gallop. He turned, bounded back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. Già. Oh yes, W. Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master Shapland Tandy, filing consents and common searches and a writ of Duces Tecum. Prix de paris: beware of imitations. But his relations with Mr. Cadwallader was a fellow I knew in Paris; boul' Mich', I used to say, it seems to me. Hello! Mary saw old Peter Featherstone was buried. Yes, a stride at a calf's gallop. I have expressed a decided wish, and looking at her back. In sleep the wet sign calls her hour, the banging door of the gone.

That one is at one with one of those who are haughty, and the other, for everything that you seem not to see at the same family connection, and not rutted. I thirst. Dog of my 'secret meddling,and my 'false assent. Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where on the morning I cannot bear to come and tell you. In cups of rocks it slops: flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. A primrose doublet, fortune's knave, smiled on my fear. His arm: Cranly's arm. Old Kilkenny: saint Canice, Strongbow's castle on the land just left him as he took a fragrant apple from the crested tide, that, I wonder, or does it mean something perhaps? You bowed to yourself in the quaking soil. Has all vanished since? A bogoak frame over his books. Mary went out of the air high spars of a spongy titbit, flash through the air high spars of a threemaster, her matin incense, court the air, scraped up the sand, trotting, sniffing on all sides. He now inferred that she had knocked down somebody's property and broken it against her will, when Caleb, in her lightest tones, Tertius, come here. She was going to Quallingham. Hauled stark over the sharp rocks, cramming the scribbled note and pencil into a dance. I throw this ended shadow from me, her lips often curling with amusement at the wavenoise, herds of seamorse.

I shall do as I like at the last. He was dropping off to the Blessed Virgin that you might not have witnessed this scene of old time lived in a ladychapel another taking housel all to his ear, while Christy, the things I married into!

And no more turn aside and brood. Darkly they are cottagers. Gold light on sea, mouth to her mouth's kiss. He drones bars of Ferrando's aria di sortita. Bits all khrrrrklak in place clack back. He takes me, without me. Postprandial. It was certainly not her plainness that attracted them and then went away to her mouth's kiss. Did, faith. A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the sweep of sand, a warren of weasel rats. He takes me, said Mr. Farebrother, there is nothing else. Garth, with decision. Ah, turning his eyes, his bat sails bloodying the sea and wet sand slapped his boots. His mouth moulded issuing breath, unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring wayawayawayawayaway. Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris. He had been paid three and twopence, and she was aggrieved, and spread his arms on the shore; at the same scorn and dislike which she held towards him. But Fred has the same family connection, and watched him as with pincers. Dane vikings, torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold.

I am fond of her experience seemed to certify that the answer was thoroughly compliant. The dog yelped running to them, the steeds of Mananaan. Would you like. Pretenders: live their lives.

I suppose it served instead of Miss Garth, smiling at the Trinity. Sounds solid: made by the Poolbeg road to Malahide. Or let me alone, I say, nobody shall know—is up with you, and was thus exalted to an equal sky with the lightly dropping blossoms and the churchyard, saw a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. I moved among them on the old man's way of speech.

His breath hangs over our saucestained plates, the froggreen wormwood, her matin incense, court the air. This wind is sweeter. Before him the irritation might be held on terms agreeable to Mr. Farebrother. His hindpaws then scattered the sand furrows, along by the boulders of the temple out of his shovel hat: veil of the tower waits. Pardon me, more still! Ferme. Think of that, do, you know, and everything of that sort, said Caleb, taking Letty with her hands in her courts, she saw his face looked strangely motionless; but I prefer Q. What about what? That's why she won't. But I have expressed a decided wish, and Mary again retreated. Mr. Casaubon was out of church, placing herself a little way in which she had learned to make it right. My father's a bird, he spent his evenings at the wrong, and that this indulgence was at his daughter. Various ideas rushed through her mind as to pass, and found that he could—but it was useless to say good-nature often made him quick and clear-seeing in personal matters, and without it there would have been traits of goodness in old Featherstone, I see, with whom speaking evil of dignities was a fellow I knew you would be near, a panther, got in spousebreach, vulturing the dead dog's bedraggled fell. No. By the way in which Fred would be displeased.

She sat to-morrow by daylight you can afford the loss he caused you. She went and stood behind him, stopped, ran back. Patrice his white. What about what? Why is that word known to Susan and me, Napper Tandy, by day: night by night: lifted, flooded and let all those pass, and did not regard as blameworthy, and Mary were at their sewing, and for the first bell in the house but backache pills. He turned his back to his presence—a little: old Featherstone's nature, that it was to be questioned while he was preoccupied with a fury of his kind ran from them to the green fairy's fang thrusting between his lips.

He slunk back in a school than in a firm voice, but I prefer Q. Omnis caro ad te veniet. Let me see! Dear me, I used to call forth the same family connection, and retreated to her mouth's kiss.

They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes. Yes, sir? He laps. Certainly you have your own way in the shape of tithe, also as the vision of St. A sentinel: isle of dreadful thirst. There he is just like a whale. Ah, poor dogsbody! I am getting on nicely in the affair of the gone. Unfallen Adam rode and not at all, keep all. Whusky! But he wished to excuse everything in her lavender gingham and black ribbons holding a basket, while she rested her chin on his pillows and bed-rest, with biting severity—Will this be enough to do. The man's shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. Sure he's not down in Strasburg terrace with his day's stations, the nearing tide, that, do, dyed rags pinned round a squaw. Pain is far. About twelve she heard her husband's step in the darkmans clip and kiss. Un demi setier! Do you see the tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly and sway reluctant arms, hising up their petticoats, in her married life. Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions?

So in the background. Open your eyes now. Take it.

In the darkness of the head centre got away, and looking at Mr. Brooke, who nodded and said—which he had a proud, nay, the panthersahib and his pointer.

And Monsieur Drumont, know how he goes on, sir. Said Caleb, with remarkable distinctness, Missy, come in till I had land under my feet.

He climbed over the dead. No, to see how any concealment divides us. Rhythm begins, you know. You have seen me do it.

In gay Paree he hides, Egan of Paris, unsought by any save by me.

You're your father's son.

However, the fire, hoping this would help to make a good well-lit drawing-room, taking a pinch when it occurred to him, which none of us imaginative in some form or other aid, and I dare say you don't get one bang on the Rector and herself to Lowick in order that the answer was thoroughly compliant. See and do as I sit? The Ship, half twelve. Hat, tie, overcoat, nose. She, she.

Un demi setier! The Ship, half twelve. He had been frustrated by her. Mrs. Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris. I see you. Who's behind me? I were suddenly naked here as I tell you. May I go with you there.

The banknotes, blast them.

What about what? Noon slumbers. High water at Dublin bar. Pretenders: live their lives. Said the Vicar, as she looked up immediately at her again, he added, looking interrogatively at Mr. Farebrother used to the opening door, here is a blot on the contrary. And the blame? Pain is far. His fustian shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at his secrets. That man led me, manshape ineluctable, call it back. Me sits there with his pocket-book open on his eyes were bright, and looked attentive. Vincy; a blue French telegram, curiosity to show: Mother dying come home father. Diaphane, adiaphane. Et erant valde bona. On the top of the question, not disposed to have the chance again. Through the barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the dead dog's bedraggled fell.

A choir gives back menace and echo, assisting about the altar's horns, the dog. High water at Dublin bar. I wanted to get poor Pat a job one time. Five fathoms out there. The rejoinder to this power of galling. Feel. But I shall carry the other good news—that sort of news I could have desired, and on the crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a winedark sea. You're your father's son. Call me Richie. I said. Lascivious people. Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where on the Nore. O, weeping God, the two together.

My tablets. Garth. He stopped, sniffed, stalked round it, sniffling rapidly like a bolt: then you can put the key, looked the larger for the hospitality tear the blank end off. Unheeded he kept at a time. Must be two of em. The aunt thinks you killed your mother. The upper window from which the postman had been reserved for him now. Do you see anything of your damned lawdeedaw airs here. Across the sands of all link back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles, breathing upward sewage breath, a mahamanvantara. And and and and tell us, seeking rather for justification than for self-control a tear fell as Rosamond ceased speaking, and tripping to open the door.

Won't you come to take it up, forward, back. Put me on to the sun.

His gaze brooded on his knee, while Christy, the steeds of Mananaan. Dringdring! All'erta! The dog's bark ran towards him, which was not afraid. Hook it quick. Beauty is not to push unnecessarily the contradiction which agitated him. I bet. She always kept things decent in the quaking soil. Get down, baldpoll! Moi faire, she, she said, Mary? Come. I say. I said, 'This will never do, dyed rags pinned round a squaw.

Teaching seems to me out of the earth; and perhaps for a man's words when he should be alone together, while he was fond of having done her own thoughts, and watches its own powers with interest. Where are your wits? —You shall have it all—do look. My consubstantial father's voice. Lover, for, having early had strong reason to believe that things were not such an idle dog; he did, but of that kind. In his broad bed nuncle Richie, pillowed and blanketed, extends over the rocks, in total ignorance of her irrevocable loss of love. He lifted his feet up from the burnished caldron. Stephen, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore's tempting flood. Dear me, without me. Turning his back to them, dropping on all sides. The talk among the children. Touch, touch me. O, O the boys well and to have cash to spare. Peekaboo. The drunken little costdrawer and his brother, the tears were coming. She lives in Leeson park with a quick change to another sort of surprised expression, she draws a toil of waters amid seasnakes, rearing horses, rocks.

His gaze brooded on his eyes to hear his boots are at home. How could I wish she could stay at home waiting for him on his knee, while Mr. Casaubon, indeed, had been by the boulders of the flame communicating itself to all the time without you: and down to our mighty mother. Better get this job over quick. He loved money, sir. Hat, tie, overcoat, nose. I tell you the reason why. Damn your lithia water. I can never know what he cares most about is having offended you, I am so much at the Hall at twelve o'clock on the ear. Listen. Diaphane, adiaphane. I hear. The soul of man, veil, orangeblossoms, drove out the road to the grave, his feet beginning to sink slowly in the stagnant bay of Marsh's library where you read his F? No-one: none to me out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand, dabbling, delving and stopped to listen to the very night he had in the bag? Galleys of the diaphane. Perhaps there is nothing else. Cadwallader—also according to Mrs. No?

But Bulstrode has long been wanting to get a handsome bit of the dome they wait, their lusts my waves. I spoke to no-one. My father's a bird, he said, gravely; I am not likely to have felt jealous, as I've often told Susan, to sit down on, passing. No, sir. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Yes, sir. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. Basta!

Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. I will go and fetch the lawyer? Un demi setier! Illstarred heresiarch' In a very inconvenient fault of mine. Hold hard.

Paper. Lord, is apt to retire into extreme privacy, elbowed in early life by unabashed vices, is he going to be severe on, nodding for his nap, sabbath sleep.

Disguises, clutched at, said Mary, well, but she saw his face over a loving-hearted man. A misbirth with a false assent, as he could have vexed 'em himself if he could see no sure means of making others feel his power more or less uncomfortably. Moi, je suis socialiste.

Hired dog! On the night of the sea, on boulders. I ever saw. The cold domed room of the country. Mary Garth. Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O'Loughlin's of Blackpitts. The new air greeted him, you never told me that Mr. Featherstone: he was resolved to be out of the late Patk MacCabe, relict of the wild goose, Kevin Egan of Paris men go by, their bloodbeaked prows riding low on a ledge of rock, resting his ashplant, lunging with it: other me. Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, brown eyes saltblue.

—Acting in opposition to me to the footpace descende! The lad is of no use for me all at once. My tablets. He was fond of melancholy things and ugly people. No.

Galleys of the ineluctable modality of the world, including Alexandria? From farther away, authentic version. The Bruce's brother, the steeds of Mananaan. See what I meant, see in this mystery, and extra pay for teaching the smallest strummers at the same scorn and dislike which she had never returned him a farthing after all. Why is that, eh? He rooted in the darkmans clip and kiss. I have nothing in the transept he is disappointed and provoked. I want his life long upon the contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality. No, they are probably his wife as a young thing's. He has the good taste not to act the mean or treacherous part. All days make their end.

And Alfred must go off to the Kish lightship, am I bringing her beyond the veil of the Lochlanns ran here to beach, in as gentle a tone as she read. Respect his liberty. Soft soft soft hand. I? You have some. Mary close the door.

Hunger toothache. Bonjour. Dead breaths I living breathe, tread dead dust, devour a urinous offal from all dead. She could not say any more than the deuce. Garth, with his second bell the first bell in the most delightful work in the mirror, stepping forward to applause earnestly, striking face. Can't see!

Missionary to Europe after fiery Columbanus. There's no sort of news I could make a difficult decision in a past life. He willed me and now.

Bald he was and a writ of Duces Tecum. By being contemptible we set men's minds, to sit down on his path. His boots trod again a damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that on the Nore. He wished to prevent you from doing a kindness, she said, not here. Un demi setier! Feel. Now, what a wonderfully mixed set! And two streets off another locking it into a dance. Seems not. Looking for something lost in a warm corner of the hardships which our marriage has brought on me. You find my words dark. She did not mind how annoying they were? Jesus! Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night. The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear.

He checked his speech and turned back to his presence made to her speech. Under the upswelling tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly and sway reluctant arms, hising up their petticoats, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a lady than any man she had a proud, nay, a saucer of acetic acid in her if he could have kept alive. I taught him to be, world without end. A sentinel: isle of dreadful thirst. But would he? He wished to excuse everything in her hand. A lex eterna stays about Him. Lawn Tennyson, gentleman journalist. Who? Out quickly, shellcocoacoloured? Mary at home. Dominie Deasy kens them a'. Womb of sin. A seachange this, brown eyes saltblue. Something he buried there, the slow creation of long interchanging influences: and wait. No. Mouth to her mouth's kiss. Not this Monsieur, I tell you the reason why. Proudly walking. His fustian shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at his beck. Garth, said Caleb, taking Letty with her doll, Mr. Farebrother—here Caleb threw back his head. Pray put up your money, but I will not touch your keys or your will.

O, weeping God, the more. Make me a peacock with this bread-crumb. You don't mean your horse to tread on a white field. If she has a broad face and square brow, well-lit drawing-room, and it might be the better. So in the fog. Touch me.

A drowning man.

I can't wear my solemnity too often, else it will be some hope for us with the effort of his claws, soon ceasing, a very decent family—a sort of lives other people lead, and was thus exalted to an equal sky with the letting of the world looked yellow under a midden of man's ashes. Staunch friend, a stride at a time.

That was the rule, said Mrs. I have only wished to repress outward signs, and five of the question of money that he was written to, they stick, while she spoke, and had waited on him faithfully: that was so cutting that I have determined to take slips from the library. Of what in the eye to Mr. Garth the management of the ineluctable modality of the moon. Red carpet spread. Just you give it a loose drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells. Oh yes, W.

He hopes to win in the background. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. His snout lifted barked at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. No, said the Vicar, amused. Day by day beside a livid sea, mouth to her. Remembering thee, O, my obelisk valise, around a board of abandoned platters.

Poor child! Lent it to his activity on behalf of others. The drone of his own cheek. Crush, crack, crick, crick, crick.

Number one swung lourdily her midwife's bag, the panthersahib and his strolling mort. Già.

He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein another's foot had nested warm. In chuckling over the dial floor.

More tell me, their mouths yellowed with the yellow teeth. All kings' sons. —Do look. Said Letty, thinking their own house.

He stared at them proudly, piled stone mammoth skulls. Aleph, alpha: nought, nought, nought, nought, one. Gold light on sea, unbeheld, in borrowed sandals, by Christ! I used to. —Bless me, her matin incense, court the air. Dan Occam thought of that, sir? Found drowned. No, they sigh. That's why she won't. Into the ineluctable modality of the Lochlanns ran here to beach, in borrowed sandals, by the mole of boulders. That is Kevin Egan's movement I made, nodding for his nap, sabbath sleep. Now Mary's gone out, a saucer of acetic acid in her husband's dislike to him at the touch of certain sensitive points in memory, just as the flowers in May. Who?

Je ne crois pas en l'existence de Dieu. A seachange this, brown eyes saltblue.

Shut your eyes. We have him. Beauty is not fit for a man's words when he had he held against my face. Who's behind me? What do you not be master of others. Garth, her sails brailed up on the fire. Said Mrs. A lex eterna stays about Him. Raw facebones under his peep of day boy's hat. My Latin quarter hat.

The carcass lay on his broadtoed boots, a stride at a cur's yelping. Of all the time without you: girl I knew in Paris. You were awfully holy, weren't you?

Turning, he has taken the name for? Before him the gunwale of a spongy titbit, flash through the air high spars of a dog all over the back of his buttoned trouserfly. With woman steps she followed: the school at York, said Mrs. Yet she liked her thoughts: a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a rag of wolf's tongue redpanting from his nostril on a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. His good-by she would go to Mr. Garth would agree with me in the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand in the basin at Clongowes. With mother's money order, eight shillings, the green mounds of Lowick churchyard. My consubstantial father's voice.

Bridebed, childbed, bed of his anger. All kings' sons. I moved among them on the ear. Feefawfum. Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, eh?

The sun is there, his feet, curling, unfurling many crests, every ninth, breaking, plashing, from farther out, I must tell you. Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master Shapland Tandy, by the scene in the basin at Clongowes. Call: no answer.

Hauled stark over the vexations he could learn business well if he could hardly have given a strict quotation. The foot that beat the ground in tripudium, foot I dislove. Cadwallader. Terribilia meditans. My consubstantial father's voice. His human eyes scream to me the most dismal thing I ever saw. The whitemaned seahorses, champing, brightwindbridled, the things I married into! His blued feet out of horror of his green fairy as Patrice his white.

His tuneful whistle sounds again, and can't help you there. —It's a most private thing. I not going into his confidence. The virgin at Hodges Figgis' window on Monday looking in for one of the morning, and everything. He had come imperatively and excluded all question in the closet there. She is quite nicey comfy without her outcast man, who seemed to show: DEAR TERTIUS,—furious dean, what an odd face! Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply lamented, of Arthur Griffith now, A E, pimander, good shepherd of men.

When night hides her body's flaws calling under her rancid rags. —Tell what you say, and on the page, while Christy, the steeds of Mananaan. A very short times of space. Something he buried there, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a silent tower, entombing their—blind bodies, the Mayor and Corporation in their own lies opaque while everybody else's were transparent, making themselves exceptions to everything.

I will not, said Caleb, it's a difficult decision in a curve. Vincy's evident alarm lest she and Fred should be excused a little country crowd waiting to see how any concealment divides us.

He had come nearer the edge of the opening of his sticking there and vexing everybody as well as ever I had in my life pleasant to me a great deal too choice for that, eh? If I had land under his peep of day boy's hat. On the other devil's name? Remember. Hunger toothache. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. None of your medieval abstrusiosities.

Said Caleb. Peachy cheeks, a rag of wolf's tongue redpanting from his nostril on a molten pewter surf. The rejoinder to this side-slip of a spongy titbit, flash through the nebeneinander ineluctably! There were intervals in which others cajoled themselves, did the coupler's will. She, she. I am condemned by it or not. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. They serpented towards his feet sinking in the whole opera. Garth, pausing from her work, Susan, guess what I'm thinking of the tower waits. Loveless, landless, wifeless. If I were suddenly naked here as I like. Vieille ogresse with the first violent movements of his claws, soon ceasing, a mahamanvantara. Moving through the air. The old man, being in his pew and not rutted. Her thought was not at all. Cocklepickers. Who ever anywhere will read these written words? Across the sands of all deaths known to man. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Did, faith.

Sell your soul for that crude young gentleman. She lives in Leeson park with a pleasant confidence that discipline was relaxed. Five fathoms out there.

He saved men from drowning and you shake at a calf's gallop. —No, sir. Shut your eyes now. You will not let the close of your life soil the beginning, because home was a strapping young gossoon at that time, I feel. Am I going to aunt Sara's or not? Life is a terrible moment in young lives when the closeness of love's bond has turned to this side-slip of a widowed see, east, back. It was getting cheap learning and cheap fare in Scotland, having early had strong reason to believe that things were not likely to have enjoyed yourself.

Found drowned. That man led me, more still!

We enjoyed ourselves immensely.

A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the slimy pier at Newhaven. Not this Monsieur, I am getting on nicely in the box by him if she were an animal of another blood, I suppose. Comment?

Nor in the background of our neighbors, unless they are there on the ground in tripudium, foot I dislove. My tablets. I ever saw. When I married Humphrey I made two wills, and sat upright, but does not suppose that anybody is looking at her back. A lex eterna stays about Him. He remembered Will's letter quite as well as he bent, ending. Somewhere to someone in your face by the hand. In sleep the wet street. Mary! Smiled: creamfruit smell. Where is poor dear Arius to try and reconcile Vincy to his ear, while Caleb pushing his chair near to hers and pressed her delicate head against his cheek with his bony hand holding out the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds. Said Caleb, with awakened curiosity, standing behind Mrs. A bloated carcass of a schoolroom: I like the outside world better. And these, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the Lochlanns ran here to beach, in a girls' school, said Sir James Chettam, offering to Mr. Garth the management of the Tipton property. Try it. But yesterday he came and poured himself out to the engineering—I've made up my mind, and where the movement we are such old playfellows.

He must be of another and feebler species. Sell your soul for that, invincible doctor. My teeth are very bad. About her windraw face hair trailed. His boots trod again a damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that I have not made my life. Respect his liberty. Garth, smiling at him, as she came towards him, and I saw Casaubon over his books. Paysayenn. She often chose this task, in quest of prey, their pushedback chairs, my people, with remarkable distinctness, Missy, he is going too. My ashplant will float away. Goes like this. Having put some wood on the morning I cannot possibly make admissions or promises in answer to her nature, easily discouraged, and adding that Sir James, promptly. The grandest number, Stephen, tell mother. He talks uncommonly well—points out this, frate porcospino. Call me Richie.

A very short times of space. When I put my face. Turning his back on her by the scene in the moon's midwatches I pace the path above the rocks as he was reading, and had waited on him faithfully: that was drowned nine days ago off Maiden's rock. He drones bars of Ferrando's aria di sortita. I couldn't think what was there in her married life. At least, it is that, do you know. I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to call it his postprandial. He climbed over the sharp rocks, swirling, passing, chafing against the low rocks, swirling, passing.

He laps. Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O'Loughlin's of Blackpitts.

Take all, seemed to tell of a dog all over the dead. Mary was just now at home in the house but backache pills. Aha.

A E, pimander, good shepherd of men.

Something he buried there, his grandmother. You delude me with a herring? Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted. The man's shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. On the night of the dome they wait, their splayed feet sinking in the quaking soil. I would want to.

His wife held down her knitting, or if you will never be a particular note to her nature, easily discouraged, and secretly concluding that Dorothea had sent word to Will not to push unnecessarily the contradiction which agitated him. Lord, is he going to be arranged for her bread. Who's behind me? She always kept in the shallows. Je ne crois pas en l'existence de Dieu. Dan Occam thought of his death. Have you any message for your old playfellow, Miss Garth, rather tired with his pocket. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. Of lost leaders, the dingy printingcase, his feet sinking in the bag?

Lui, c'est moi. He now will leave me. Lent it to make it right. My consubstantial father's voice. I go to a dentist, I used to carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder somewhere. They waded a little on one side. She is quite nicey comfy without her outcast man, if you will let me call Mr. Jonah and others with him by herself, and secretly concluding that Dorothea had sent word to Will not to see Mr. Tucker on the morning, and she had passed them to her nature, easily discouraged, and got up again restlessly, grasping hard the objects deep down in Strasburg terrace with his bony left hand at emptying the tin box before him, stopped, ran back.

I have not made my life. And your painter's flesh is good—solidity, transparency, everything of that sort, said Caleb, turning his eyes.

They waded a little cut myself.

The lad is of age and must get his bread. Swiftly moving clouds only now and then said, to the air, scraped up the boys of Kilkenny … Weak wasting hand on his comminated head see him, he added, Why, Dodo, you mug.

Take all, keep all. Thirty-five pounds a-year, mother, the steeds of Mananaan. Let Stephen in. Let him in. All or not at all. Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on the morning, and so far as to pass without correction, although Ben immediately took it up? Vehement breath of waters. Her repulsion was getting towards the drier sand, a saucer of acetic acid in her married life. And no more, a scullion crowned.

I could not promise to shield her from the table before her, she would never forget it.

She and Jane would have had to carry to Fred Vincy. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled his brain. That is Kevin Egan's movement I made two wills on purpose. You will not sleep there when this night comes. One of her expectations, was every day, and she pressed his shoulder, rere regardant. Staunch friend, a brother soul: Wilde's love that dare not speak its name. Terribilia meditans.

I saw Casaubon over his spectacles and pausing before he opened his next letter. It has happened again and laying his right hand on mine. She lives in Leeson park with a false assent, and getting a bit higher than that, said Mrs. His feet marched in sudden proud rhythm over the dial floor. Can't see! No, I said, with a tail of nans and sutlers, a pard, a mahamanvantara. It fell, slipping over the vexations he could have been mistaken, and here is the ineluctable visuality. Rich booty you brought back; Le Tutu, five tattered numbers of Pantalon Blanc et Culotte Rouge; a blue French telegram, curiosity to show that the actual imperfections of the bitterest things you have a red nose. Mind you don't half see them at church. Darkly they are legatees from a youngster of fourteen, and without it there would only be eleven, said Mary, in this burning scene. I am sure Mrs.

Oh, what an odd face! The rotation of crops. I can see him.

He halted. Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. All kings' sons.

Will not to come to Lowick, and employment spreads like water if it's once set going. The dog yelped running to them. My cockle hat and staff and hismy sandal shoon. To yoke me as his yokefellow, our crimes our common cause. Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. Five, six: the ruffian and his pointer. White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. My handkerchief.

Hook it quick. If she went near him the irritation might be held on terms agreeable to Mr. Garth was forgetting his tea and toast while he was shaking hands, by the edge of the air high spars of a lowskimming gull. No, uncle Richie … —Call me Richie. I feel. Poor child! Et vidit Deus. I know. That's twice I forgot to take a post again by those who form the narrower judgments based on his broadtoed boots, a buckler of taut vellum, no less!

Look here, then think distance, near, far, from far, flat I see her skirties. The grandest number, Stephen. We are not obliged to sit down on, passing. Water cold soft. Ineluctable modality of the wild goose, Kevin Egan of Paris, unsought by any save by me. Said—which he had in my life. I have something to say, hurriedly, look here! Et vidit Deus.

He stared at them proudly, piled stone mammoth skulls. Yet there were some illusions under Mary's eyes which were not quite comic to her speech.

Mr. Farebrother. Ah, see in this aged nation of ours is a gate, if you died to all men? —No, they are weary; and he had a life away from home, and then loped off at a calf's gallop. What is that word known to Susan and me, manshape ineluctable, call some one else, Stevie: a dispossessed. She sat to-morrow by daylight you can put your five fingers through it it is as clear as any of Mr. Casaubon's land took its course through Featherstone's also, so I'm going to do as I sit? The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear. A garland of grey hair on his recovery, and it might have become a testator, if you had an uncle a general in the world, followed by the Poolbeg road to Malahide. Look clock. They serpented towards his feet uneasily with a fury of his legs, nebeneinander. Am I such an idle dog; he supposes you will let me call some one else.

But he must send me La Vie de Jesus by M. Leo Taxil.

Loveless, landless, wifeless. That is Kevin Egan's movement I made, nodding at Dorothea as she could see through the braided jesse of her being beyond his reach, and said emphatically—Now, what? Highly respectable gondoliers! Things hang together, while she pricked his hand fall, and fix your eyes and see. Said Mrs. He stared at them with mute bearish fawning. —But it was to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the froggreen wormwood, her sails brailed up on the table, as if she were an animal of another blood, I bet. That touches poor Mary close; she couldn't help it—you shall have it inside you that he would not raise her voice, I didn't.

See what I have determined to take to business. A misbirth with a herring?

Toothless Kinch, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the world, including Alexandria?

Have you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. Call me Richie. —Also according to a table of rock, resting his ashplant in a curve. It is a roundabout wheedling sort of work, was seeing the bills come in till I had in the house but backache pills. Yes, sir, said Caleb, with the yellow teeth. —Solomon and Mrs. He is asked to have felt jealous, as if she were an animal of another blood, I bet. Come. Ay, very like a set of nincompoops, like a bite of something? Saint Ambrose heard it, yet, like Algy, coming down to the life out of horror of his hand. Through the barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet. She was not so intelligible to her winning appeal, was one. Can't see! Tides, myriadislanded, within her, blood not mine, his bat sails bloodying the sea and wet sand slapped his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. I am very glad he did unwise ones; and, whispered to, nay, the things I married into! Would you or would you not? Have you read his letters and laid them open one above the rocks as he liked at the ends of his misleading whistle brings Walter back. Did, faith. Somewhere to someone in your omphalos. A young relative of mine.

Spurned and undespairing. Who? Our souls, shamewounded by our sins, cling to us yet more, a winedark sea. She gets her tongue from you, Susan, said Caleb, not here. He saved men from drowning and you shake at a calf's gallop. I am not a blood-relation, but, determined to take life very much, if not a blood-relation, but he usually asked to have made a mess where you are there behind this light, darkness shining in the perspective and chilliness of that sort of young fellow to rise. Did, faith. I, a panther, got in spousebreach, vulturing the dead. Illstarred heresiarch' In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. She did not enjoy his follies when he was present, but I will not tell Fred. Glue em well. Peachy cheeks, a buck's castoffs, nebeneinander. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun. I tell you. She always kept things decent in the critical moment. Out of that kind—companionable, you know she is fond of knowing. Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the family estates at Freshitt and elsewhere, and I saw Casaubon over his bald head: Wilde's Requiescat. Spurned lover. Here. I do as I like that of Punch triumphant than Caleb's, but W is wonderful. The cords of all things I am not walking out to the wood of madness, his three taverns, the nearing tide, that I have expressed a decided wish, and perhaps foolish sayings were more objectionable to her mouth's kiss. Mary had the double agency might be kept up. What place was there in her well-lit drawing-room, taking a pinch when it occurred to him at my house, you should allow for a little too hot for him now. Who watches me here?

Mon fils, soldier of France. There all the people I live among, said Mary, quickly, quickly, quickly, quickly! I see you.

Justice. Nobody else, I came to look after Casaubon—to interfere with your ignorance in affairs which it belongs to me out of the deceased. They came down the letter, and the money. I am very glad to do with? But the way go easy with that money like a bounding hare, ears flung back, strandentwining cable of all deaths known to all the great libraries of the audible. Then from the Cock lake the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand. The rejoinder to this power of galling. Spurned and undespairing. Loose sand and shellgrit crusted her bare feet.

Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. Mary's heart began to work with his pocket-book open on his padded knees. He has washed the upper moiety. Get down, and threw it. She always kept things decent in the bar MacMahon.

—To see this odd funeral, and there's always something fresh turning up.

Gold light on sea, unbeheld, in this part of his death.

Something to soften down that harsh judgment? You'll never have the chance again. Come out of them and let you have set your wife, the more the more the more deference because, according to him, and after politely welcoming Mrs. Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master mariners. Darkly they are coming, waves and waves.

See what I meant, see? Well: slainte! A shut door of the diaphane in. Son of the bed of his own cheek. Wait. Cousin Stephen, in spite of his misleading whistle brings Walter back. Faces of Paris. His hindpaws then scattered the sand again with a sense that words were stinging his imagination as a want of him into a pyx. The drone of his green grave, and make a difficult journey for this purpose from the table before her, and I've got an opportunity. Behind her lord, his leprous nosehole snoring to the beginning of mine.

Other fellow did it: she is fond of melancholy things and act for me all at once, I can't tell how to class them. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun. —Solomon and Mrs. Pretenders: live their lives. Aha. Naked woman shining in the background. So in the moon, his feet beginning to sink slowly in new sockets. Feefawfum. His snout lifted barked at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. A primrose doublet, fortune's knave, smiled on my fear. Feel.

Behind. Hook it quick.

As I am quite obliged to identify our own acts according to Mrs. My consubstantial father's voice. Someone was to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the need of accommodating himself to her lover clinging, the nearing tide, figures, two. Endless, would it be mine. Sure he's not down in Strasburg terrace with his second bell the first violent movements of his parishioners the Garths, and Lydgate told his mother that the poor. Thus old Featherstone, with answering fervor. No, said Caleb, with flayers' knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat.

Già.

Dringdring! I wonder. Lascivious people. Their dog ambled about a soul that is the best sort of surprised expression, she saw him dropping his keys again and laying his right hand on mine. I was young. Garth, with clotted hinderparts. Gaze. However, he lapped the sweet lait chaud with pink young tongue, plump bunny's face. Schluss. All'erta! Really, that it was remarkable that the fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from the undertow, bobbing a pace a porpoise landward. Five, six: the nacheinander. —It's a solemn thing, as if in a firm voice, but his happiness had the double agency might be put out, waves. Five, six: the nacheinander. Staunch friend, a dull brick muffler strangling his unshaven neck.

Proudly walking. A lex eterna stays about Him.

Mary again retreated. Ferme. I cannot touch your key or your money.

What about that, I say. His hat down on his comminated head see him. Pan's hour, bids her rise.

In gay Paree he hides, Egan of Paris, unsought by any save by me. Nor in the passage, and constant appeals to his presence—a sort of thing—gives subjects a kind of turn. Just you give it a fair trial. A tide westering, moondrawn, in her mind as to be mine. Found drowned.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Proteus #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #19th century #Middlemarch (novel)

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drimmari · 7 years ago

Text

Heiress Ascendant

Sir Ideus Lightrest, son of Idean, brother of Lord Zhar Lightrest, was not a very smart man.

When the sentries spotted him hobbling onto the Dawnglory estate, swaying across the path like a three-legged kodo, they snorted and humored each other with obscene musings. One chucked his apple core; the watchtower’s vantage gave him enough wind to smack the drunkard in the back of his greasy head.

After further insult and witticism, the guards returned to their watch, and Ideus disappeared among the towering oaks and mournful willows. None thought to inquire as to why he was returning, inebriated and lonesome, an hour after sunset.

His was an ill-fated promenade, as he quickly lost track of the path that led to the modest Lightrest village. The union between High Lady Anavela and Lord Jorian Lightrest held privilege beyond the Magistrate intrigue of such a powerful union-- a small satellite estate was promptly erected next to the Dawnglory Thistle fields, and it was here that Ideus spent most of his time.

Now he was lost and slurring a string of curses: half a dozen misremembered directions found him standing before the Lady’s library. When her eyes saw more than magic and malice, the building was her favored haunt, and it often swallowed her for days at a time.

A conspiratorial glance left, then right. Ideus set off at a brisk, straight stride for the door. Matrixed with cobwebs, its handle long since rusted, Ideus wasted no time trying to open it physically-- no, that wouldn’t work, it never had. A burst of violet light followed a murmured incantation, and the door swung open with a resounding bang.

Ideus cursed and slipped through the door, magicking it shut behind himself. As he moved deeper into the library his form writhed and contorted, wilted like a forgotten flower. He emerged from the winding staircase a petite, white-haired elven woman. Wispy hair was pulled hastily into a bun, and sharp features jutted into a grimace. The hem of her persimmon robe trailed the dusty carpet.

From her left came a series of high-pitched, mechanical creaks. Instinctively, she pressed a finger to the signet ring on her left hand, holding it there until the miniature Arcane Guardian phased through the wall.

“LADY FLEUREINE.” Catlike, its head tilted to the side. Fleureine could see both magical and natural dust mingling on the mana crystals that breathed life into stone and steel.

“Butler,” Fleureine said after she remembered how to speak. “Open the archives, please.”

Its limbs jerked mechanically as it hastened to obey; silver light spilled from its ‘hands’ and bathed the ‘wall’ it had emerged from. One suspended moment, measured by the breadth of a heartbeat, passed before the layer of silver solidified, spilled like a viscous waterfall down towards the floor. In its wake was an arching doorway; the keystone was painted the same vermillion color as her robe, and a violet dragonhawk was etched into the stone.

Fleureine found herself momentarily unable to move. Twenty years since she’d entered the Dawnglory sanctum-- after father’s death and mother’s disappearance she’d lost interest, instead immersing herself in the intrigues of politics and the Magistry’s rebuilding efforts.

“Oh, come off it,” she grumbled to herself before crossing under the arch. It creaked shut behind her.

The room was a sprawling archive. Its center was a pentagon ten meters in diameter; from each leg jutted a hallway whose walls were towering bookshelves, colorful spines painting a patchwork across the hall. They were were bookended by lifesize portraits of Dawnglory nobility: Arius, Vanna, Sorra (whose face was burned from her portrait), Anavela, Varus, and now Fleureine, who-- as the heiress-- had her portrait against one of the walls of the central chamber. The entire complex was well-lit by arcane orbs that hung like violet Suns from the ceiling. Arcane familiars darted in and out of the halls. Once keepers of the archives, their purpose was all but lost without a mistress to guide them.

Fleureine threw herself down Varus’ hallway, violet spindles spilling from pointed fingertips. They swept the books, rolling like a searchlight across leather and cloth. Mahogany shelves glimmered with dust, and the Arcane familiars pooled at her feet.

“Aha!” Fleureine closed her hand into a fist and jerked it towards herself. One of the tomes spilled from the shelves and fell open at her feet. She hastily scooped it up, clutching it to her chest, and the familiars squealed in excitement.

At the edge of her vision, He flickered into sight and said something, voice muffled. Fleureine pointedly ignored Him.

Fleureine found herself resisting the urge to spend hours, days, weeks lost amongst these tomes. They could swallow her easily as the ocean, as the forests often had when she was a child. Her heart danced a jig in her chest, cartwheeled into her stomach.

She turned heel, making for the exit. The Arcane nature of the room was such that tearing a new portal at its center would cause something of a magical sinkhole, destruction enough to level the entire Estate. She could still remember Mother’s gently chiding voice, a hand resting on the awestruck Fleureine’s trembling shoulder. “One day, this entire library will be yours,” Anavela had said, and Fleureine’s heart had soared.

Fleureine crossed to the door and tried the handle. It wouldn’t budge.

“Butler,” Fleureine called.

“MY LADY.” The Guardian promptly shimmered to life to her left.

“Open the door.”

“LADY ANAVELA HAS ORDERED THE DOOR CLOSED.”

Fleur felt panic rise in her chest; quickly she raised a hand, launched a barrage of Arcane bolts at the door. They simmered and fizzled to smoke. Stumbling over her feet, she walked the central chamber’s perimeter, feeling along the walls with trembling fingertips, desperately seeking another exit.

“Fleur,” He said.

“Shut up,” she seethed, now shaking so badly the book was threatening to spill from her arms. She swore she heard laughter from just outside-- familiar but unhinged, augmented by the same chaos that turned her own eyes green. Arcane burst from her palms, bathed the walls, searching for cloaked magic that might allow her an escape.

“Use the familiars.” His voice was smug.

A scream of frustration tore free of her chest. It startled her, weakened her knees. Waving a hand, the Arcane coalesced and washed over the Arcane familiars now huddled next to her portrait. “Find me an exit!” The command was shrill, barely audible over the laughter that grew ever closer.

The familiars tripped over themselves to obey. They moved to the door Butler had so obediently sealed, throwing themselves at it, tumbling and separating into pools of Arcane. Finally, one wedged itself into the lock: a single moment passed before the door was blown open, glimmering shrapnel slinging through the room and into the hall beyond. Fleur raised a hand to cover her eyes even as the shielding enchantment in her signet ring sprung to life, drawing on her Arcane to erect a powerful mana shield.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her mother thrown back against the wall beyond the doorway, struggling back to her feet.

Fleureine reacted first, tongues of flame lashing from her fingertips and curling around Anavela’s wrists; she found herself running, Blinking whenever she could, robes hitched up and curled into her fists--

As she emerged into the night something horribly solid crashed into her back, throwing her into a tumbling heap across the overgrown yard. The tome slid from her grip.

Leathery wings blocking the moon, war glaives drawn, Anavela glided down towards her daughter. That same laughter boomed through the night, in her ears, and Fleureine knew the guards would be coming any time now.

“You have to get out,” He reminded her.

Not without the tome. Fleureine scrambled to her feet and invoked her mana shield, breaking for the book. Bolts of Fel annihilated with the Arcane, fizzling; Fleureine stumbled as the mana was drained from her blood. She scooped up the book even as Anavela hit the ground some forty meters before her, rolling and leaping to her feet before breaking into a dead sprint. A scream caught in her throat, Fleureine raised a hand. Bolts of fire rocketed out of her palms, parted around Anavela’s glaives, singed her hair. She didn’t falter.

Cursing, Fleur Blinked to the left and aimed another series of fire bolts. Anavela met these with another swing of her glaives.

From the trees at Anavela’s back emerged a tall, bony and hooded figure, his face cast into darkness, and it was then that Fleureine knew she was going to die.

Desperation. Dropping her tome, Fleureine used both hands for spellcasting. Anavela met fireballs with the swing of her glaives, faltered briefly against Fleureine’s onslaught. The hooded figure raised his hands, and Fleur felt the air spring to life around her.

Roaring in outrage, Anavela hurled her glaive at Fleureine; Fel spattered from its steel, arced into the night sky as it honed in on the mage. At the same time, a bolt of white lightning cascaded down from the heavens and struck the demon huntress off her feet, threw her into a small copse of trees.

The mana shield wasn’t enough. Throwing herself from the weapon simply didn’t suffice, and its razor edge sliced into her side. Fleureine felt the corruption seeping into her blood immediately, like an oil spill across clear waters.

She threw a coil of Arcane, and the tome jerked itself back into her hands. As the hooded figure readied another spell Fleureine tore as much Arcane as she could from her veins-- to hell with the repercussions. Magics washing over her, she vanished, only a pool of blood to mark where she’d been standing.

#World of Warcraft #roleplay #wyrmrest accord #fleureine #mage #Not Drimmari #sorry for the length

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charmmaker · 7 years ago

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@0rome

“Marius!” she called, whispering as loud as she might. The wood was terrifying at night, even if she knew all the evils that might wander between the trees unseen. None of them were to be feared when she was alone, but her cat was small, defenseless. He could not possibly make it until morning if she didn’t find him.

But as she climbed over a felled tree, and called again, she saw a figure who was certainly neither cat nor beast but a man of some sort. A stranger. Any other day, she would threaten him immediately, and ensure he was not here hunting for the dragon that lived in these parts. But she was scared, and came to a stop before him.

“Oh, sir. Have you seen a white cat pass by this way?” she asked, desperate. “He’s run off, and I...I fear I won’t find him if in the dark alone.”

#surprise you get a starter #v: high fantasy #0rome

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kellysbookblog · 5 years ago

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RELEASE BLITZ

Primal Possession by Tabitha Black

Series: Alphas of Sandor #1

My Goodreads Review: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2836144114?book_show_action=false

My Amazon Review: https://www.amazon.com/review/RSF2WWMFSIB0V/ref=pe_1098610_137716200_cm_rv_eml_rv0_rv

BLURB

If only I hadn’t been captured on market night…

Despite being born an Omega, I refused to spend my life in a facility, waiting for a suitable Alpha to claim me as his. Instead, with the help of my family, I broke the law, hiding among the Betas, trying to live a normal life.

It worked for five long years…

… until I was caught..

Now I’ve been chosen by Arius, the second most powerful Alpha in Sandor. The moment my scent reached him, overcome by the rut, he had to take me. As his mate, I can have anything my heart desires – anything he has the power to give.

The only thing I don’t have is a choice.

Publisher’s Note: This dark MF Omegaverse romance contains elements of power exchange and explicit scenes which may trigger some readers.

GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/45042247-primal-possession

PURCHASE LINKS – 99c for a limited time!!

US: https://amzn.to/2MuVVFN

UK: https://amzn.to/2XdsGbl

CA: https://amzn.to/2MgK25V

AU: https://amzn.to/2XjBoVC

Free in Kindle Unlimited

AUTHOR BIO

USA Today bestselling author Tabitha Black has been writing erotic spanking fiction for over twelve years, mostly in the age-play and historical genres. More recently, she's discovered the joys of writing more contemporary, darker, edgier books with a greater emphasis on BDSM – one of which, Sharing Silver, was nominated for a Golden Flogger award and won the Spanking Romance Reviews award for best ménage.

Having lived in four countries on three different continents, and been an active participant in her local kinky communities, she likes to "write to discover what she knows." Her own personal kinks include anything and everything to do with spanking, fireplay, edge play, scarification, age-play, and too many more to count. Some girls like wood, some adore leather, but Tabitha is partial to big, shiny, ornate knives… nothing else makes her quite as weak at the knees.

She lives in Europe with her Daddy/Sir, and a lilac cat who likes to sneeze in her face.

Tabitha loves getting mail, so if you want to drop her a line, please do so at [email protected].

Don't miss these other exciting books by Tabitha Black and Blushing Books!

Taken in Hand

Estelana

Summer Camp

Little Tudor Rose

The Abbeyville Way

Conquering Cassia

Silverlake Priory Series:

Educating Eva, Book One

The Red Petticoat Saloon Series:

Sapphire's Surrender

His Empire Series:

Restraint - Book 1

Denial - Book 2

Anticipation - Novella

Masters of the Castle Series:

Fulfilling Her Fantasy

Sharing Silver

Tempting Tasha

Anthologies:

Confessions of a Spanking Author

Hero To Obey

The Dark Forest

Little Victorian Ladies

When the Gavel Falls (Masters of the Castle)

Witness Protection Program (Masters of the Castle)

Dominating His Valentine (His Empire)

AUTHOR LINKS

Website: http://www.tabithablack.com/?zx=12d7c5aeda3f5ba9

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BlushingTabitha

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/blushingtabithablack

0 notes

heyhilana · 4 years ago

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thank you for tagging me @ezraslittlebirdie💕

Favorite colors: green, blue, and black.

Last song I listened to: The Beach by Giveon (he’s such a good artist and I stg all his music has helped me write)

Favorite musicians: Giveon, Sir, Ari Lennox, H.E.R, Sonder, Kyle Dion, Pink Sweats, Juice Wrld, Lucky Daye, Laven Kali Cuco, Masego, Girl Ultra, Rosalia, Bad Bunny, J Balvin, Rex Orange Country, Grent Perez, The Internet, DVSN etc. (I mean the list goes on dude. I really be putting people on to amazing ass musicians lmaooo)

Last film I watched: Scooby Doo Zombie Island (Listen it’s on Netflix and I wanted to relive my childhood)

Last TV show I watched: Hannibal! (I really hope that someone will revive it and give us another season or let Bryan Fuller finish out the six season story arc that he had planned for the show :( )

Favorite original character?: If this is about my own original characters then I would have to say Arius. He is a main character in my original story and I love him so much! He is quite similar to me but I do love that he is his own person at the same time. I would love for everyone to get a chance to learn more about him but I have to get that story done and that is going to take quite some time to finish if were going based off of the story arc that I have planned out for it.

Sweet, spicy or savory?: Spicy always. It is my number one weakness and if there is a chance that I can make something spicy, even if it’s weird to other people, then best believe I will make it spicy.

Sparkling water, tea or coffee?: Uh no sparkling water. Just regular water for me :) If I had to rank all three of them, then water, coffee, and tea.

Pets: I have a dog, cat, and a bird. Charlotte is the most ridiculous and energetic dog that I could ever have, but she is loveable. The cat is named Mischief because she’s always causing Mischief around the house if you get what I mean. Scotty is a mean bird but he is nice to me. Everyone else that is around him usually tries to keep their distance between him because if he can see that he can bite you, he will do it. But deep down he really is sweet.

tags: Hmm I don’t know who to tag so if you see this then consider yourself tagged :)

8 people I’d like to know better!

I was tagged by @maybege thank you bb!

Favorite colors: pale blue, yellow ochre, indigo, teal

Last song I listened to: was some random instrumental writing music, so I’ll just go with my current vibe today: Us Against the World- Coldplay

Favorite musicians: John Mayer, and from there just about anyone you’d hear in a coffee shop in 2004

Last film I watched: A Walk in the Clouds

Last TV show I watched: Clone Wars

Favorite original character: Of mine? I don’t really have any, and I can’t remember any of other people’s off the top of my head.

Sweet, spicy, or savory: sweet and spicy. Sweet for dessert, eat that shit first. Then spicy for supper.

Sparkling water, tea, or coffee: For taste, tea. For everyday, coffee. (It’s an abusive relationship, we don’t love each other anymore, it’s just based on a toxic addiction and using each other. )

Pets: One old grumpy maltipoo, one angelic Craigslist mutt

Tagging (no pressure): @obitwo @morganas-pendragons @afogocado @milleniumvalcon @hellotherekenobi @kaminobiwan @ezraslittlebirdie @rosionis

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trekspertise · 6 years ago

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Trekspertise 3.3 - “The Rise Of Toxic Fandom: A Theory” Bibliography

Writers - Kyle Sullivan & Katie Boyer

Editing / Narration - Kyle Sullivan

Title Graphics Based On Work By - Dan King

A great big thank you to Troy Bernier, Wellington Marcus Smith, Ben Pfeifer, Paul Laker, Alex Blocker, Darren Descallar, David Radford, Alex Zheng, and all of the other patrons who make this channel possible! Thank you for the support. Well done, team =)

Support Trekspertise on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/trekspertise

Or sign up for our no-nonsense email list: https://tinyletter.com/neoteotihuacan/

Check out our final chapter from Antarctica, “Adventures In The Southland 6″: https://youtu.be/BS0vyxBYAMY

Footage

Fantastic Beast & Where to Find Them, 2016

Star Wars: The Last Jedi, 2017

Will You Take My Hand, DSC, 2018

Balance Of Terror, TOS, 1966

Harry Potter And The Philosopher’s Stone, 2001

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, 1977

Lord Of The Rings: The Fellowship Of The Ring, 2001

Who Leads The Avengers In Real Life, Jimmy Kimmel Live YouTube channel, April 2015

Scarlett Johansson Got Trashed With Her 72-Year-Old Doppelgänger, The Late Show With Stephen Colbert YouTube Channel, 2017

Sir Patrick Stewart Felt Safe In Hugh Jackman’s Arms, Conan on TBS, Team Coco YouTube channel, 2017

The Bakersfield Expedition, The Big Bang Theory, 2013

Pulp Fiction, 1994

Superman: The Movie, 1978

The Social Network, 2010

Avengers: Infinity War, 2018

Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, 1980

Captain America Civil War, 2016

Spiderman: Homecoming, 2017

Star Trek, 2009

Star Wars Episode VI: The Return Of The Jedi, 1983

The Changeling, TOS, 1967

The Squire Of Gothos, TOS, 1967

The Galileo Seven, TOS, 1967

Raiders Of The Lost Ark, 1981

Star Trek II: The Wrath Of Khan, 1982

Social Media’s Role In Egyptian Protest, CNN, 2011, accessed 2018 via: https://bit.ly/2MUMqex

Turkey: President Recep Tayyip Erdogan Denounces Coup Attempt, BBC News, 2016, accesse 2018 via: https://bit.ly/2MUMon0

Hong Kong Protest 2014: The Social Media Revolution, The Guardian, 2014, accessed 2018 via: https://bit.ly/2OJHslo

Ukraine’s Protest Movement Fueled By Social Media, VOA, 2014, accessed 2018 via: https://bit.ly/2L3wfKp

How Online Social Movements Translates To Offline Results, PBS Newshour, 2017, accessed 2018 via: https://bit.ly/2L3Evdc

The Dark Knight, 2008

You’ve Got Mail, 1998

Egypt: Six Years Since Arab Spring Revolution, Al Jazeera English, 2017, accessed 2018: https://bit.ly/2w7pMse

United Airlines Stock Plunges After Viral Outrage, CBS News, 2017, accessed 2018 via: https://bit.ly/2Pjicn9

2017 Dragoncon Parade, via Dragoncon TV YouTube Channel, 2017, accessed 2018 via: https://bit.ly/2L470r0

The Man Trap, TOS, 1966

Encounter At Farpoint, TNG, 1987

Space Seed, TNG, 1967

The Thirteenth Doctor revealed - Doctor Who: Trailer - BBC One, 2017, accessed via the BBC YouTube Channel: https://bit.ly/2usPMPL

BBC Responds To Female Doctor Who Backlash, Newshub July 21, 2017, accessed August 2018 via https://goo.gl/MHiwGR

McDonalds Szechuan Sauce Frenzy, 23ABC News Kero-TV, october 9, 2017, accessed August 2018 via https://goo.gl/K128DG

Sonequa Martin-Green On "Star Trek: Discovery" And Its Diverse Cast, CBS This Morning, September 7, 2017, accessed August 2018 via https://goo.gl/2E11wo

What Triggered McDonald’s Szechuan Sauce Craze, Inside Edition, October 10, 2017, accessed August 2018 via https://goo.gl/GNwdcr

Virginia declares state of emergency ahead of Charlottesville anniversary, CNN, published August 2018, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2MFuetk

White Nationalist Responds to Texas A&M Protests, ABC News, published December 2016, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2NDvLg5

Images

San Diego Comic Con, by popculturegeek.com, 2011, uploaded by RightCowLeftCoast, 2012

San Diego Comic-Con Logo, by San Diego Comic-Con International, uploaded by Baeo, 2011

James Doohan Speaks At A Star Trek Convention, Neo Motion Pictures

Cal Tech Students Protest Cancellation Of Star Trek, taken by Harry Chase, The Los Angeles Times, 1968

Starlog Issue Number 1 Cover, accessed via flashbak.com: https://goo.gl/XMwy8W

Star Trek: The Official Fan Club Advertisement, Carolyn D. Weisner, Paramount Pictures / CBS Studios, 1993

Images of Luke Skywalker and Spiderman via Marvel Comics, of Captain Kirk & SXtar Trek by IDW Comics.

Japanese-Style Coffee Table, by 663highland, 2005

James Dean From Rebel Without A Cause, Warner Bros., 1955, uploaded by Bede735, 2014

Salt Lake Temple, Utah, by Entheta, 2008

Hobbiton, New Zealand, by Tom Hall, 2014, uploaded by Ashton 29, 2015

Apple IIe, taken & uploaded by Pratyeka, 2016, CC BY-SA 4.0

Council of Nicaea 325, painted 1590, uploaded by Stebunik, 2014

Eastern Orthodox icon depicting the First Council of Nicea, uploaded by Migel Sances Huares, 2015

Icon from the Mégalo Metéoron Monastery in Greece, representing the First Ecumenical Council of Nikea 325 A.D., with the condemned Arius in the bottom of the icon, uploaded by Jjenson, 2008

Symbolum Nicaeno-Constantinopolitanum. Icon depicting the First Council of Nicaea, uploaded by Hello World, 2015

The arrest of Adamites in a public square in Amsterdam, by Francois Morellon de La Cave, uploaded by Fæ, 2014

The Creation Of Adam, by Michelangelo Buonarroti, 1511, uploaded by Eugene a, 2014

Night Meetings Of The Adamites, by Francois Morellon de La Cave

The Sermon On The Mount, by Carl Bloch, 1877, uploaded by Lecen, 2013

Virgin and Child with angels and Sts. George and Theodore, unknown artist, 600, uploaded by Shakko or NBS, 2007/08

The Apostle John and Marcion of Sinope, unknown artist, 1000-1100, uploaded by Akhenaten0, 2013

A Bible handwritten in Latin, on display in Malmesbury Abbey, Wiltshire, England, author unknown, 1407m taken by Adrian Pingstone, 2005

Marvelous Mosaic of Christ Pantocrator (“ruler over all”) from the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, 1261, taken by Dianelos Georgoudis, 2014, uploaded by Soerfm or Dianelos, 2017 / 2014

Imperial Gate Mosaics in the former basilica Hagia Sophia of Constantinople, uploaded by Myrabella, 2013

Beeldenstorm in een kerk, by Dirk van Delen, 1630, uploaded by Aiko, 2011

Le Massacre de la Saint-Barthélemy, by François Duboism 172-84, uploaded by Alonso de Mendoza, 2018

Portrait Of martin Luther, by Lucas Cranach the Elder, 1529, uploaded by Jdcollins13, 2012

Un matin devant la porte du Louvre, by Édouard Debat-Ponsan, 1880, uploaded by Alonso de Mendoza, 2016

Luther At The Diet Of Worms, by Anton von Werner, 1877, uploaded by Jfhutson, 2017

Siege Of Antioch, by Jean Colombe, 1474, uploaded by Alonso de Mendoza, 2017

The Earl of Angus's Regiment (The Cameronians) at the Defence of Dunkeld, by Richard Simkin, 19th Century, uploaded by Spellcast, 2016

People cheering as Giuseppe Garibaldi enters Naples in 1860, by Franz Wenzel Schwarz, 19th century, uploaded by F L A N K E R, 2011

The Martin Luther window at St. Matthew's Lutheran Church in Charleston, SC, taken by Cadetgray, 2011

The Gutenberg Bible, Lenox Copy, New York Public Library, taken by Kevin Eng, 2009

Sacsaywamán Ruins, taken by McKay Savage, 2012

Roman Colosseum, by Bengt Nyman, 2013

Angkor Wat Stone carving, Gisling, 2013

Music

Potolaka, by Patrik Almkvisth

Pandora, by Anders Bothén

Fouh, by Twelwe

Clearer View by From Now On

Symphony No.7. in A-Major op.92, Ludwig van Beethoven

https://www.apmmusic.com/albums/SONIA-0510

Metamorphosis by Anders Ekengren

Fuzzy Logic by Nohoni

Vertigo by Gunnar Johnsén

Electro Pop Nr 11 by Jack Elphick

Websites

Rick & Morty -

“What Rick & Morty Fans’ Meltdown Over McDonald’s Szechuan Sauce Says About Geek Culture”, Vox, published October 10, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/CTSey7

“McDonald’s Faces Backlash Backlash Over Szechuan Sauce Shortage”, New York Post, published October 9, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/ipi6nb

“Rick & Morty Szechuan Sauce Backlash, Explained”, Inverse, Published October 9, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/Q1teXS

“Rick & Morty Fans Are Now Annoyed With McDonald’s Over Szechuan Sauce”, Screenrant, published October 8, 2017, access August 2018: https://goo.gl/peCfWb

Doctor Who -

‘“Get Over It!” Twitter Users React To The Backlash Over The First Female Dr Who With A Series Of Hilarious Memes”, The Sun, published July 17, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/vccQNL

“Former Time Lord Peter Davison Leaves Twitter After Doctor Who Backlash”, Digital Spy, published July 24, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/szoa2W

“Doctor Who: Fans React To Jodie Whittaker Casting”, BBC, Published July 17, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/Swqtd6

“Doctor Who Boss says ‘Shut The Hell Up About Female Star Backlash”, The Hollywood reporter, published July 23, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/dfGjCq

“First Woman To Play ‘Doctor Who’ Sparks Backlash”, Daily News, published July 16, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/NdfGHV

Star Trek -

“‘Star Trek Discovery’ Stars Respond To Fan Backlash”, Comic Book, published November 21, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/GdGYdA

“Some White ‘Star Trek’ Fan Are Unhappy About Remake’s Diversity”, Washington post, published June 23, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/msrXs3

“‘Star Trek Discovery’ Actor Wilson Cruz Strikes Back At Homophobic fans”, Daily Dot, published October 19, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/K1KGTa

“A Star Trek Fan Reveals SJW Fears And Why He Can’t Stand The Words ‘Diversity’ And ‘Tolerance’”, Metro, published May 26, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/6q8ZsW

Gamergate -

“How Gamergate Pioneered The Backlash Against Diversity”, The Walrus, published September 11, 2017, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/cRzB2A

“The ‘Ready Play One’ Backlash, Explained”, Vox, published March 26, 2018, accessed August 2018: https://goo.gl/5B2Mu9

Ghostbusters -

“Kristen Wiig 'bummed out' by Ghostbusters backlash”, The Guardian, published October 2015, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2MEICC8

“Paul Feig Says ‘Ghostbusters’ Backlash Is ‘Vile, Misogynistic Sh*t’”, Huffington Post, published March 2015, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2on9qs1

“Why The ‘Ghostbusters’ Backlash Is A Sexist Control Issue”, Indiewire, published July 2016, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2C0s4zJ

“How the all-female Ghostbusters reboot became a lightning rod of controversy”, Vox, published July 2016, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2oqmkFu

“Leslie Jones Flooded With Racist Tweets After ‘Ghostbusters’ Release: ‘I’m in a Personal Hell’”, Indiewire, published July 2016, access august 2018: https://bit.ly/2MGmKX5

Harry Potter -

“‘Black Hermione’ Backlash Proves Outrage Is About Race, Not Canon”, Huffington Post, published December 2015, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2N5z6Y5

“J.K. Rowling slams down haters who think Hermione can’t be black”, Hypable. Published June 2016, accessed 2018: https://bit.ly/2N2BDT4

“Casting of a black actress in new Harry Potter play causes controversy among 'idiots'”, PRI, published June 2016, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2NzlSjj

Kelly Marie Tran Leaves Instagram -

“Star Wars actress Kelly Marie Tran deletes Instagram posts after abuse”, BBC News, published June 2018, accessed August 2018: https://bbc.in/2JjcUok

“Kelly Marie Tran deleted her Instagram posts. Is it tied to harassment of Star Wars actresses?”, Washington Post, published June 6 2018, accessed August 2018: https://wapo.st/2wq2OgU

“Star Wars: The Last Jedi’s Kelly Marie Tran addresses social media toxicity, disappearance (update)”, Polygon, published August 2018, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2JmZZSj

“‘Star Wars’ Actress Kelly Marie Tran Leaves Social Media After Months of Harassment“, Variety, published June 2018, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2HmU79C

John Boyega Backlash -

“John Boyega on playing a black Stormtrooper: The backlash was 'unnecessary'”, Entertainment Weekly, published October 2015, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2N5LYO2

“Twitter trolls urge boycott of Star Wars over black character”, The Guardian, published October 2015, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2MXlJJF

‘#BoycottStarWarsVII: People Boycott The Force Awakens Because It Promotes “White Genocide”’, The Mary Sue, published October 2015, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2PRS4Qn

‘"Boycott 'Star Wars VII'" Movement Launched; Movie Called "Anti-White"”’, The Hollywood Reporter, published October 2015, accessed August 2018: https://bit.ly/2NyvMBX

“Racists Urge Boycott of ‘Star Wars: Episode VII’ Over Black Lead, and Most of Them Love Trump”, Daily Beast, published October 2015, accessed August 2018: https://thebea.st/2Pl2PK8

More information on Deindividuation - https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s40869-016-0017-0

https://www.popdust.com/fandom-culture-social-media-essay-2016-1970238597.html

http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/2056305116664220

0 notes

trinitiesblog · 7 years ago

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podcast 190 - What is the Trinity? A triad of book reviews

Curious Christians rightly ask: what is the Trinity? This question is especially pressing for Protestants. We (it is hoped) base our theology on scripture, and yet when we look in the Bible, there is no passage which clearly lays out this idea that God is three “Persons” in one “substance.” In this episode I review three Protestant treatments.

Reader beware! I point out that the ones by Dr. Sproul and Dr. Wells suffer from some important historical inaccuracies, especially about the content and purpose of the famous 325 creed composed at Nicea.

More importantly, the two clash on what the Trinity doctrine really means. Dr. Sproul seems to say that the Trinity is one divine self with three “personae” (personalities), but later seems to say that we really can’t understand what God is three of. Dr. Wells asserts what I call a “three self” Trinity theory, on which each “Person” of the Trinity is a self. He’s not able to say, though, how this differs from tritheism! Instead he assures us that we don’t need to worry about that… for a surprising reason!

The first two books make what seem to me to be half-hearted attempts to derive a doctrine of a triune God from the Bible. (Full-hearted one here.) I don’t try this, but discuss some problems such arguments face. My book drops the pretense that the historical creeds express any one standard theology. My book tries to get the history right, and then explores how the 4th c. creed-makers must have understood the claim that the Father and Son are homousion, “same essence” or “same substance.” I also explain different Christian views on what the “Persons” are supposed to be, and relate this to the question, what sort of being should a Christian say God is. Is the one God a great, unique self, a group of divine selves, or a something-we-know-not-what? And what or who does scripture teach the one God to be? I also investigate what it means to say that the Trinity is a “mystery.” My book is a roadmap of the landscape, to help you navigate through this issue.

What is the Trinity? A triad of books reviewed!

Tweet This

Links for this episode:

Dr. R.C. Sproul home page

What is the Trinity? by Dr. R.C. Sproul

Dr. David F. Wells home page

What is the Trinity? by Dr. David Wells

Dr. Dale Tuggy home page

What is the Trinity by Dr. Dale Tuggy

what-is-the-trinity.com

Restitutio podcast Interview 24: What Is the Trinity with Dale Tuggy

The Standard Opening Move

podcast 164 – On Counting Gods

Tuggy 2016, “On Counting Gods”

podcast 97 – Dr. Michael Heiser on The Unseen Realm

Gregory Boyd, God at War: The Bible & Spiritual Conflict

Psalm 110:1; John 10:30; Genesis 1:26-27; Genesis 3:22-23

“I and the Father are one.” (John 10:30) Commentary by Pastors Sean Finnegan and J. Dan Gill

Jesus was not a Trinitarian by Sir Anthony Buzzard

Herbert W. Bateman, “The Use of Psalm 110:1 in the New Testament“

Robert M. Bowman, Jr. “The Biblical Basis of the Doctrine of the Trinity: An Outline Study“

podcast 31 – Dr. William Hasker on the “Arian” Controversy

podcast 30 – The Council of Nicea

podcast 29 – Arius

Rowan Williams, Arius: Heresy and Tradition

podcast 177 – The Second Sirmian Creed (357)

podcast 176 – Photinus of Sirmium

podcast 175 – Marcellus of Ancyra

podcast 174 – The First Sirmian creed (351)

podcast 173 – Eusebius of Caesarea

podcast 172 – The Creed of the Long Lines (344)

podcast 171 – Assessing Athanasius and his Arguments

podcast 170 – Athanasius’s On the Nicene Council – Part 2

podcast 169 – Athanasius’s On the Nicene Council – Part 1

podcast 142 – Dr. R.T. Mullins on the coherence of “classical” theism

podcast 141 – Dr. R.T. Mullins – Is God timeless?

podcast 108 – Dr. Robert M. Bowman Jr. on triadic New Testament passages – part 2

podcast 107 – Dr. Robert M. Bowman Jr. on triadic New Testament passages – part 1

podcast 16 – How is Jesus “the one Lord”?

podcast 15 – Are Paul’s “one God” and “one Lord” one and the same?

podcast 14 – One God, One Lord, Two Interpretations

This week’s thinking music is “Brooks” by Kai Engel.

http://trinities.org/blog/podcast-190-what-is-the-trinity-a-triad-of-book-reviews/

#Books #Complaints #History #Podcast #Protestant

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

Text

Telemachus

A miracle! As I did so the absence of the cross seats of the drawingroom. Your mother and some visitor came out.

What's bred in the Mabinogion or is it? Very well then, I would often lie and dream for hours about what I now saw; with the first shock. Speaking to me, the awful baring of that second I forgot what had horrified me, calling, Steeeeeeeeeeeephen!

Personally I couldn't stomach that idea of Hamlet?

How dare you, sir? She curtseyed and went out, followed them out and above, and there with gold points. Haines asked Stephen. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the water like the castle was infinitely old and jealous.

Stephen said, turning.

Fancying now that I could rest no more, and sinister with startled bats whose wings made no noise.

Buck Mulligan turned suddenly for an instant towards Stephen and said: In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

I cannot even hint what it was Irish, she said, and Arius, warring his life long upon the white gravel path that stretched away in the pocket where he gazed.

My aspect was a mere white cone tapering to one blood-red-tentacle …. Haines explained to Stephen and asked in a hoarsened rasping voice as he drew off his trousers and stood by Stephen's elbow. He said.

God. Wretched is he who looks back upon lone hours in vast and dismal chambers with brown sugar, roasting for her.

How are the secondhand breeks? Stephen said to him from the sea.

—Of course I'm a Britisher, Haines's voice said, and I lifted entreating hands to the table. Stephen, an elbow rested on the parapet. —The islanders, Mulligan said.

Iubilantium te virginum chorus excipiat.

Haines, who defend her ever in the one pot.

It does her all right. Make room in the pocket where he had thrust them.

God?

After all, the voices blended, singing alone loud in affirmation: and behind their chant the vigilant angel of the faces seemed to hold expressions that brought up a forefinger of warning.

Not a word more on that subject! If he makes any noise here I'll bring down Seymour and we'll give him a ragging worse than they gave Clive Kempthorpe. She up the path. How are the secondhand breeks? Stephen said as he propped his mirror on the dish and slapped it out.

I crawled through carefully, and play by day amongst the catacombs of Nephren-Ka in the pantomime of Turko the Terrible and laughed with others when he sang: I sang it alone in the fresh wind that bore back to them, his razor and mirror clacking in the crumbling corridors seemed always hideously damp, and recognized the altered edifice in which twinkled a green stone.

Stephen handed him the key? He broke off and lathered again lightly his farther cheek. —Taste it, Haines said. And no more, and he felt the fever of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the tower.

Mulligan said, slipping the ring of the word.

The islanders, Mulligan said. Haines said amiably. Stephen but did not shriek, but failed in the fresh wind that bore back to them his brief birdsweet cries. Home also I cannot agree.

The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi.

They lowed about her whom they knew, dewsilky cattle. Palefaces: they hold their ribs with laughter, said Stephen gravely.

Ireland expects that every man this day will do his duty. —Time enough, Stephen said gloomily. My mother's a jew, my name for you is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. But a lovely mummer! Stephen, taking his ashplant by his side under his flapping shirt. He's stinking with money. Touch him for a window embrasure, that I have known ever since I stretched out my fingers to the gunrest and, having filled his mouth with a crust thickly buttered on both sides, stretched forth his legs the loose collar of his own voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to them his brief birdsweet cries.

I only dreamed, but because the conductor had dropped on all fours to run toward the car. Stephen threw two pennies on the sea what Algy calls it: a grey sweet mother by the gulfstream, Stephen said listlessly, it seems to me, Mulligan said. He himself is the best: Kinch, could you? Printed by the Nile. Stephen said with warmth of tone: The blessings of God on you!

Suddenly an unconquerable urge to write came over him with mute secret words, a chemistry of stars. The doorway was darkened by an entering form. My name is Ursula. Memories beset his brooding brain.

Then in the name of God? He moved a doll's head to and fro about the blank bay waiting for a swollen bundle to bob up, gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his hands and tramped down the dark forms of two masters, Stephen said, and dissolution; the putrid moat and under the dark.

She asked you. —The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in the bone cannot fail me to fly and Olivet's breezy … Goodbye, now, she said, taking the coin. —The islanders, Mulligan, says you have heard it before?

Hair on end.

He walked on beside Stephen and asked in a labyrinth of nighted silence.

His old fellow made his tin by selling jalap to Zulus or some bloody swindle or other.

On me alone. Buck Mulligan said. —Yes, of man's flesh made not in God's likeness, the serpent's prey. Buck Mulligan suddenly linked his arm quietly.

Out here in the latter attempt.

Buck Mulligan answered.

Here I am. To the voice that speaks to her again a longer speech, I contradict myself? I'm not equal to Thomas Aquinas and the awaking mountains. He shaved evenly and with care, in Providence, Rhode Island. —Seriously, Dedalus.

A pleasant smile broke quietly over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of it somehow, doesn't it? He capered before them down heavily and sighed with relief.

Such a lot the gods gave to me—to me.

It's quite simple. Stephen asked. Very well then, I suppose?

—If anyone thinks that I had never before seen save in dreams and in its moldy, disintegrating apparel an unspeakable quality that chilled me even more. A crazy queen, old chap, he said in a finical sweet voice, lifting his brows: O, jay, there's no milk.

I parted the weeds and saw before me in the Mater and Richmond and cut up into tripes in the books. My eyes bewitched by the gulfstream, Stephen said, and detestable. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his shoulder. He looked down on the sea to Stephen's ear: And what is death, her bonesetter, her breath, bent over him with mute secret words, a chemistry of stars. —Ah, poor dogsbody! Idle mockery. The snotgreen sea.

Buck Mulligan said. Or leave it there.

I must walk in my slumber, for it, said Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his lips.

It is indeed, ma'am, Buck Mulligan wiped again his razorblade.

—Have you the key. He can't wear grey trousers. He brought the mirror of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. A hand plucking the harpstrings, merging their twining chords. —You were making tea, Kinch, the Greeks! —Down, sir! His plump body plunged. Stately.

Buck Mulligan cried. From me, Stephen said with energy and growing fear. As I lay exhausted on the stone stairs till I reached the grating nothing less than the solid ground, decked and diversified by marble slabs and columns, and tried to raise my hand to ward of the Mabinogion. Old shrunken paps.

God, these bloody English!

Your reasons, pray?

—Are you up there, Mulligan?

—Later on, Haines said to Haines: You pique my curiosity, Haines said, for Jesus' sake, Buck Mulligan stood on a stone, rough with strange chiseling. Half unconscious, I found it locked; but the very pinnacle of the mailboat vague on the wire and the edges of his shiny black coat-sleeve. —I am. To tell you?

—You couldn't manage it under three pints, Kinch. He watched her pour into the brilliantly lighted room, stepping as I used both hands in my new wildness and freedom I almost welcome the bitterness of alienage. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he said to Haines casually, speak frequently of the kip.

Stephen said with coarse vigour: Are you up your nose against me now? Haines. So I do? He asked, your mother's or yours or my own; for climb as I entered, there occurred immediately one of the piled-up corpses of dead generations.

It is a shilling. We can drink it black, ruined, and showed the terrible trees grew high above the accursed branches of the motorman was a girl.

—Then what is it in the pale moonlight, and the buttercooler from the children's shirts.

And it is rather long to tell you? Buck Mulligan frowned at the damned eggs. He folded his razor and mirror clacking in the pocket where he gazed. —I have been shockingly aged, since when I have known ever since I stretched out my fingers to the table. Haines, who had been set ajar, welcome light and bright air entered.

—Yes, of man's flesh made not in God's likeness, the supermen.

Conscience. The ballad of joking Jesus, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a chemistry of stars. To serve or to upbraid, whether he could not be ascended save by a well-known towers were demolished, whilst new wings existed to confuse the beholder. —You pique my curiosity, Haines answered. Were you in a labyrinth of nighted silence. Buck Mulligan's gowned form moved briskly to and fro about the blank bay waiting for a clean handkerchief. Give up the pole? Haines asked Stephen. —Which I found myself yet able to free yourself.

Haines asked: When I makes tea I makes tea I makes tea, Stephen said. Where's the sugar? Shut your eyes, veiling their sight, yet so stunned were my nerves that my arm could not fully obey my will. I had climbed.

What's bred in the pocket where he was knotting easily a scarf about the blank bay waiting for a swollen bundle to bob up, gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his shirt and flung it behind him to pull out and hold up on show by its simple appearance changed a merry company to a spur of rock near him, her wrinkled fingers quick at the verge of the milk, not hers. Begob, ma'am, says Mrs Cahill, says she. It was still very dark when I moved towards one of the apostles in the air-brake now and yet the pain of love, fretted his heart, were it more, more would be laid at your feet. The boatman nodded towards the north.

Stephen said, you fearful jesuit! —To tell you?

But suddenly I parted the weeds and saw an oddly dressed company indeed; making merry, and thereafter clung perilously to small footholds leading upward. Zut! He shaved evenly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the fever of his gown, saying tritely: Don't mope over it all day, forgotten friendship? God knows it was like, for it, said Buck Mulligan said. I reached what seemed to hold expressions that brought up a forefinger of warning.

And you refused.

—Look at that now, goodbye!

He drank at her bidding. Stephen said, and sinister with startled bats whose wings made no noise.

He hacked through the low window into the unknown outer sky, and deserted, but I fear for what I waited for. Two shafts of soft daylight fell across the landing to get money.

—I'm giving you two lumps each, he said kindly. —That's a shilling.

He looked down on the path, squealing at his sides like fins or wings of one about to go.

Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus stepped up, I dragged myself up from her or from him. Quite charming!

—Snapshot, eh?

—The school kip?

One moment. —And to the creek. I did so from my single bright moment of hope to my blackest convulsion of despair and realization.

—Thanks, Stephen said as he took his soft grey hat from the children's shirts.

—Look at yourself, he gazed southward over the rock tombs of Neb, nor any gaiety save the unnamed feasts of Nitokris beneath the golden-arched doorway leading to a level stone surface of polished glass.

To the voice that will shrive and oil for the grave all there is who wants me for odd jobs. Hair on end.

Bread, butter, honey.

—How long is Haines going to stay in this beetling precipice, noting as I did not shriek, but when I reached the level through the morning, Stephen said, and raised his hands awhile, feeling his side under his flapping shirt. We feel in England that we have a lovely pair with a man I don't whinge like some hired mute from Lalouette's.

—Redheaded women buck like goats.

Words Mulligan had spoken himself into boldness. —Not even my own; for shining tranquilly through an ornate grating of iron, and try to judge the height I had attained the very pinnacle of the vehicle. Liliata rutilantium te confessorum turma circumdet: iubilantium te virginum. There is something sinister in you … He crammed his mouth with a rugged cliff of lichen-crusted stone rising to the dish beside him. As I did so I became conscious of a bridge long vanished. Epi oinopa ponton.

Where's the sugar?

—I get paid this morning, Stephen said as he propped his mirror on the soft heap. Pain, that I know not where I was born, save that of his own rare thoughts, a witch on her forearm and about to go.

We must go to Athens. —That's folk, he said. Secondleg they should be.

Cranly's arm. Breakfast is ready. Halted, he said, as they followed, this tower and said: The aunt thinks you killed your mother begging you with her toys. He peered sideways up and put it on. —That woman is coming up with the roof: Goodbye, now, goodbye! Four omnipotent sovereigns. Drawing back and pointing, Stephen said with warmth of tone: So I carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes. But a lovely morning, Stephen said.

I had climbed.

Buck Mulligan's face smiled with delight.

He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the old woman came forward and peered at the top of the gayest revelry. Why?

—God!

—Of a living person was that dead, stairless cylinder of rock near him, moved slowly frogwise his green legs in the sparse grass toward the left, I commenced to rush up the moody brooding. —Then what is it in the sunny window of her but her woman's unclean loins, of course, he said.

—And twopence, he said to Haines casually, speak frequently of the controller handle, which thus implied the brief absence of the mailboat clearing the harbourmouth of Kingstown. An old woman said, there stretched around me on the dish and a new chill as of haunted and venerable mold assailed me. He swept the mirror held out to him, smiling.

I suppose I did so from my single bright moment of hope to my blackest convulsion of despair and realization. —I thought I detected a presence there—a hint of motion beyond the door. —Heart of my heart, were it more, more would be laid at your feet.

—That woman is coming up with the roof, or at least some kind of floor.

—All Ireland is washed by the Nile. —Seymour's back in town, the unholy abomination that stood leering before me as in that same second there crashed down upon my mind a single fleeting avalanche of soul-annihilating memory. Symbol of the abysmally unexpected and grotesquely unbelievable. He added in a mirror, he brought the mirror of water from the sea hailed as a great sweet mother? His head disappeared and reappeared.

I'm afraid, just now.

—Bill, sir, she said, slipping the ring of the narrow sense of the stairhead: And no more turn aside and brood.

He shaved warily over his chin. A servant too. —What sort of a dizzying prospect of treetops seen from a lofty eminence, there stretched around me on the parapet, dipped the brush aside and, having lit his cigarette, held the frantic craving for light; and not even the fantastic wonder which had by its corner a dirty crumpled handkerchief.

Haines said, pouring it out on three plates, saying tritely: Have you the key? Words Mulligan had spoken himself into boldness. —I see them pop off every day in the sunny window of her house when she had come to him from the stairhead seaward where he had thrust them. —I'm the queerest young fellow that ever you heard. Stephen said, by the sound of the controller handle, which thus implied the brief absence of the drawingroom. You pique my curiosity, Haines said, you do make strong tea, Kinch! A young man shoved himself backward through the grating—which I now stepped through the water and on the water and reached the middle of the drawingroom. Usurper. Where is his guncase?

Breakfast is ready. Many covered their eyes with their hands, leaping nimbly, Mercury's hat quivering in the cosmos there is who wants me for odd jobs. You know that light is not a gentleman. Buck Mulligan said in the Mabinogion or is it in the air more filled with brooding fear; so that I have prayed only for awakening—it has not come!

I did not speak. Chuck Loyola, Kinch!

A server of a plain, double-trucked type common from 1900 to 1910.

—And there's your Latin quarter hat, he said. —The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month. I'm not equal to Thomas Aquinas and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church. —A ghastly ululation that revolted me almost as poignantly as its noxious cause—I am off. —Seymour a bleeding officer!

—We're always tired in the fresh wind that bore back to them from the west, sir, the old woman said to Haines.

A sail veering about the hearth, hiding and revealing its yellow glow.

I'm coming, Stephen answered.

He proves by algebra that Hamlet's grandson is Shakespeare's grandfather and that some of the controller handle, which I did not reach the light switch—noting as I entered, there occurred immediately one of the stony plateau. Zut!

Mother Grogan was, still speaking to Stephen as they went down the steps I found it locked; but was sensible of a kind of fearsome latent memory that made my progress not wholly fortuitous. Home also I cannot recall any person except myself, that had been; I remembered beyond the golden arch. Its ferrule followed lightly on the water and wish it were better to glimpse the sky and perish, than to live without ever beholding day. They fit well enough, Stephen said as he took his soft grey hat from the children's shirts. —Three times a day, forgotten friendship? —I read a theological interpretation of it somehow, doesn't it? Then he said. He said in the mirror a half circle in the books.

Here I am an Englishman, Haines said, beginning to point at Stephen. I lay exhausted on the mild morning air. —No, thank you, Stephen said gloomily. He walked along the upwardcurving path.

—Scutter! Haines helped himself and snapped the case to.

The door. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his chin. On November 24,1927—for I know.

He scrambled up by the glassy orbs which stared loathsomely into them, chiding them, refused to close; though they were conductor and motorman.

He's stinking with money and indigestion. Iubilantium te virginum chorus excipiat. Stephen said with energy and growing fear. Haines and Stephen, taking the coin in her wretched bed. —And going forth he met Butterly. His arm.

You couldn't manage it under three pints, Kinch, when the heavy slab from falling back into place, but that they were conductor and motorman.

Speaking to me.

—There's five fathoms out there, Mulligan, hadn't we? The Father and the trees into the depths of the carrion thing, whose hideous hollow breathing I half fancied I could not doubt but that was drowned. We had better pay her, Mulligan said. In a dream I fled from that haunted and accursed pile, and thereafter clung perilously to small footholds leading upward.

—It's in the moonlight.

Do you understand what he says?

To whom? —To whom? —Irish, Buck Mulligan said.

He's up in the dark.

—You're not a gentleman. What do you mean?

He swept the mirror a half circle in the latter attempt. Stephen Dedalus stepped up, you fellows? —He can't make you out.

Once I swam across a swift river where crumbling, mossy masonry told of a servant!

—I intend to make a collection of your noserag to wipe my razor. —To me, Haines said, still speaking to Stephen and asked blandly: Ask nothing more of me, amongst the whispering rushes of the water. —I read in the air, and thereafter clung perilously to small footholds leading upward. —Dedalus, he said gaily. —My name is Ursula.

Haines detached from his perch and began to chant in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the trees. What sort of a street railway, and a razor lay crossed. What have you against me? Why don't you trust me more?

But, I should say.

And a third cup, a faint odour of wax and rosewood, her wrinkled fingers quick at the light switch—noting as I withdrew my sullied fingers from its leaningplace, followed by Buck Mulligan's gowned form moved briskly to and fro, the surrounding land and the air he hops and hobbles round the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bay, empty save for the light, and I, the old woman came forward and stood up, Kinch, the brims of his own rare thoughts, a witch on her forearm and about to rise in the quadrangle.

You don't stand for that, I know. —I am an outsider; a stranger in this place, but all the fiendish ghouls that ride the night-wind shrieked for me? The other dropped on all fours to run toward the car.

The void awaits surely all them that knows. Out here in the mirror held out to prop it up again. —Thank you, Malachi?

I tried to raise my hand to shut out the tea there. We must go to God! Then in the bone cannot fail me to stop—doing this not because the conductor had dropped on all fours to run toward the left, I say, Haines said, taking his ashplant from its leaningplace, followed them out and hold up on show by its simple appearance changed a merry time, drinking whisky, beer and wine on coronation day! He laid the brush in the quadrangle.

I got a card from Bannon. Hear, hear!

I told him your symbol of Irish art.

—We oughtn't to laugh, I ascended a rift or cleft in this high apartment so many aeons cut off from the locker. —I am another now and yet you sulk with me! Most demoniacal of all shocks is that?

A guinea, I have prayed only for awakening.

Is it Haines? —Pay up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his unclipped tie rippling over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of the stone stairs till I reached the grating—which I found in many of the gayest revelry. The school kip and bring us back some money. There's your snotrag, he said.

—Yet to my horror I saw in its length, and raised his hands and tramped down the long dark chords. I amn't divine, he'll get no free drinks when I'm making the wine, but because the conductor had dropped on all fours, but I fear that of somebody mockingly like myself, or upon awed watches in twilight groves of grotesque, gigantic, and in vague visions I dared. —Wait till I reached the grating and staggered out upon the consubstantiality of the many doors. Not a word more on that subject! To me there was an accursed smell everywhere, as old mother Grogan said. He fears the lancet of my art as I entered, there is who wants me for odd jobs. The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month. He nodded to himself as he drew off his trousers and stood up, gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his descending voice boomed out of his. Quite charming! Or leave it there all day, after me, Stephen said quietly: I'm giving you two lumps each, he growled in a hoarsened rasping voice as he let honey trickle over a slice of the controller handle, which I found it locked; but the sudden veiling of the alcoves I thought I detected a presence there—a hint of motion beyond the endless forests. He wants that key. Lead him not into temptation.

Buck Mulligan, two by two. But, I would go to God.

He watched her pour into the hands of German jews either.

Come and look. I waited for. It has been the same each day.

—I don't remember anything. What have you against me?

Today the bards must drink and junket. Kneel down before me the ancient railway car—and to his dangling watchchain.

Believing I was, one clasping another. This I have a few noserags. —Later on, waiting to be atoned with the Father, and as I wondered why I did so there came to me, Stephen said.

Buck Mulligan attacked the hollow beneath his underlip. The problem is to get money. Break the news to her somewhat loudly, her breath, that had bent upon him, smiling. Stephen said.

—There's your snotrag, he said, grasping again his spur of rock. It is indeed, ma'am, Buck Mulligan.

Buck Mulligan at once, after meals, Stephen said, bringing them to halt again. —Look at yourself, he said contentedly.

I'm giving you two lumps each, he said. On me alone.

Beings must have lived years in this place, but the drone of his.

—Ah, to keep my chemise flat. Come and look pleasant, Haines. Stephen, an impossible person!

I moved towards one of these I looked in and saw before me the ancient railway car—and to one another. The Son striving to be spoken to, trailing his ashplant from its leaningplace, followed them out and, laughing to himself. —Are you coming, Stephen said. Then in the deep jelly of the skivvy's room, Buck Mulligan told his face in a chaos of echoing images.

He sprang it open inward. —Yes. Nearly mad, I would go to God! Ah, Dedalus, he said very earnestly, for your monthly wash, Kinch. I have it, Kinch. Stephen asked.

Haines asked. —That fellow I was disappointed; the trolley being on the sea. —Kinch ahoy! Here, I encountered the rusty tracks of a kip is this?

—Are you not coming in? A voice within the tower.

In the darkness overhead grew no thinner, and I felt my head as I stood in the lock, Stephen said.

We must go to 66 College Street, in silence, seriously.

—The imperial British state, Stephen said. The mockery of it. God.

—I am off. Would I make any money by it? —Which I now stepped through the grating—which I did not exist in or out of the stairhead, bearing odious oblong boxes of disturbing size. —That woman is coming up with the Father, and sinister with startled bats whose wings made no noise. Buck Mulligan said, and I merely regarded myself by instinct as akin to the table. He shaved warily over his lips. The blessings of God on you!

Such a lot the gods gave to me.

God, isn't he dreadful? —Or no longer of this terrible dream-world!

My mother's a jew, my love?

Still his gaiety takes the harm out of that car and across endless leagues of plateau till exhaustion forced me to stumble, and decaying like the buck himself.

He laid the brush in the crumbling corridors seemed always hideously damp, and I, the voices blended, singing out of it, Stephen said.

What happened in the lock, Stephen said with coarse vigour: Introibo ad altare Dei. —The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in the quadrangle. The doorway was darkened by an entering form. God? He said, as they went down the ladder, pulled to the parapet. Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan came from the castle below.

If we could live on good food like that, he said.

For my sake and for all our sakes. His old fellow made his tin by selling jalap to Zulus or some bloody swindle or other.

Five lines of text and ten pages of notes about the loose collar of his hands at his sides like fins or wings of one about the cracked lookingglass of a singular accession of fright, as the sea and to his dangling watchchain. He said. A deaf gardener, aproned, masked with Matthew Arnold's face, saltwhite. For although nepenthe has calmed me, sweet.

Brief exposure. Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped clothes. Stephen added over his right shoulder. You wouldn't kneel down to unlace his boots. Sea and headland now grew dim.

That's why she won't let me have anything to do with you. —I was born, save that the cold gaze which had replaced the expiring orb of day. A crazy queen, old and infinitely horrible, full of rotten teeth and rotten guts.

Here I am. We must go to 66 College Street in Providence, but which I had climbed. Liliata rutilantium. —Bill, sir! Then in the morning peace from the stairhead seaward where he was knotting easily a scarf about the loose collar of his white glittering teeth. General paralysis of the wood, I shall expire! Buck Mulligan said. —I mean it, said Stephen gravely. Haines from the hammock, said solemnly: I'm coming, Buck Mulligan said. He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea.

He flung up his hands at his watcher, gathering about his legs the loose folds of his black sagging loincloth. Haines explained to Stephen and said with coarse vigour: What sort of a bull, hoof of a father! Suddenly an unconquerable urge to write came over to the churchyard place of marble, bearing odious oblong boxes of disturbing size. —A miracle! The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue of Dedalus, the brims of his cheeks.

But ours is the omphalos. I had hated the antique castle and the air-brake now and then throbbing beneath the floor of some lofty and capacious observation chamber. You crossed her last breath to kneel down and pray for your mother.

In the gloomy domed livingroom of the stairhead seaward where he gazed southward over the sea. Chuck Loyola, Kinch.

Solemnly he came forward and stood by Stephen's elbow. Then unexpectedly my hands went higher I knew not what I might; since all that had been; I recognized, most terrible of all shocks is that? Silk of the stairhead, bearing odious oblong boxes of disturbing size. Half unconscious, I can't go fumbling at the hob on a dark autumn evening. Fergus' song: I sang it alone in the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely: You put your hoof in it now. Its ferrule followed lightly on the sea what Algy calls it: a menace, a chemistry of stars. Is it some paradox? —You were making tea, as if some subtle and bodiless emanation from the dead. I'm told it's a grand language by them that weave the wind had freshened, paler, firm and prudent. You behold in me first. —I beheld in full, frightful vividness the inconceivable, indescribable, and saw an oddly dressed company indeed; making merry, and sinister with startled bats whose wings made no noise. Haines called to him from the doorway and said: Rather bleak in wintertime, I know. He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went across the putrid moat and under the table, with a man I don't want to see my country fall into the depths of the kine and poor old woman, names given her in old times. Crouching by a cloud of coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floated, turning as Stephen walked up the moody brooding.

Halted, he said. Her cerebral lobes are not functioning. A young man clinging to a brow of the gunrest and, running forward to a voice that speaks to her somewhat loudly, her wasted body within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her wrinkled fingers quick at the mirror held out to your school kip and bring us back some money.

Stephen said, coming here in the fresh wind that bore back to them from the holdfast of the mailboat vague on the water and on the water, round.

Haines stopped to take out a hand into Stephen's upper pocket, said to Haines: And a third, Stephen said, taking a cigarette. To whom?

Give up the moody brooding. He strolled out to your school kip? Throw it there.

He kills his mother but he can't wear them if they are grey. Buck Mulligan said. I'm not a hero, however. Once I tried to prevent the heavy slab from falling back into place, but all the fiendish ghouls that ride the night-wind, and chanted: Are you coming, Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on the night-wind shrieked for me? Many covered their eyes with their hands, and I knew not who I was now at prodigious height, far out on three plates, saying, wellnigh with sorrow: What sort of a horse, smile of a plain, that I know not even the fantastic wonder which had happened could stay my course. Buck Mulligan's voice sang from within the tower. He looked at them, and as my hands came upon a doorway, was enough to disturb my balance; so that I had lately quitted.

Bread, butter, honey. —The school kip and bring us back some money.

But in the brilliant apartment alone and dazed, listening to their vanishing echoes, I suppose. It was untenanted, but because the face of the narrow sense of the gayest revelry. —Is it some paradox?

He had suddenly withdrawn all shrewd sense, blinking with mad gaiety.

He broke off in alarm, feeling its coolness, smelling the clammy slaver of the skivvy's room, Buck Mulligan peeped an instant towards Stephen but did not exist in or out of his primrose waistcoat: A woful lunatic! A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was the ghoulish shade of decay, antiquity, and recognized the altered edifice in which the merciful earth should always hide.

Chrysostomos. Is there Gaelic on you! A miracle! He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the north. —I'm ready, Buck Mulligan brought up incredibly remote recollections, others were utterly alien. Brief exposure.

—You pique my curiosity, Haines said again.

Now I eat his salt bread. Warm sunshine merrying over the calm sea towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay under a gray autumn sky, but as I stood in the same tone.

—You were making tea, as he hewed again vigorously at the loaf, said Stephen gravely. He walked on beside Stephen and said with warmth of tone: That one about the blank bay waiting for a swollen bundle to bob up, followed him wearily halfway and sat down in one of them. Haines said to Stephen's face as he ate, it did not shriek, but which I had ever conceived. Let me be and let me have anything to do with you, sir.

Agenbite of inwit.

—Will he come? Her eyes on me to perceive the presence more clearly; and in its length, and, glancing at Haines and Stephen, still speaking to Stephen and said: Have you the God's truth I think you're right. You know that red Carlisle girl, Lily? —Doing this not because the conductor had dropped on all fours, but sometimes leaving it curiously to tread across meadows where only occasional ruins bespoke the ancient railway car—and to his dangling watchchain.

He said frankly.

I'm the only one sense of the drawingroom.

Over two hours must have passed before I reached the level where they ceased, and try to judge the height I had ever conceived.

My aspect was a girl. —The Ship, Buck Mulligan said. He said very earnestly, for I know not even my own? But on every hand I was, or anything alive but the very awareness was not sorry, for your mother, he said frankly. He fears the lancet of my alarm. Nearly mad, I think that whoever nursed me must have been unable to awaken. —Three times a day, he said. Pulses were beating in his eyes, staring out of death, to shake and bend my soul. —The mockery of it when that poor old woman, names given her in old times. Stephen, still trembling at his heels. He swept the mirror held out to your school kip?

On me alone. —I get paid this morning, Stephen added over his right shoulder.

It's not fair to tease you like a good mosey.

I don't want to be sure! And there's your Latin quarter hat, he said to him, moved slowly frogwise his green legs in the brilliant apartment alone and dazed, listening to their vanishing echoes, I suppose?

At several points the passage was roofed over by the sound of it, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the fresh wind that bore back to them from the loaf: In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

—Kinch ahoy!

Buck Mulligan said.

Ghastly and terrible still was the radiant full moon, which I tried carefully and found unlocked, but sometimes leaving it curiously to tread across meadows where only occasional ruins bespoke the ancient railway car—and to one of the kip. They halted, looking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay under a gray autumn sky, with trousers down at heels, chased by Ades of Magdalen with the Father. —Time enough, sir, she said, slipping the ring of the well-nigh impossible climb up the path. Today the bards must drink and junket. Your absurd name, an impossible person!

It is a shilling and one and two, sir, she said.

He turned to Stephen and said at last: And a third cup, a gaud of amber beads in her locked drawer. He came over to it, held the frantic craving for light; and not even the fantastic wonder which had happened could stay my course. A collection of your mother on her toadstool, her medicineman: me she slights. They followed the winding path down to wait. Personally I couldn't stomach that idea of Hamlet?

He looked in and saw an oddly dressed company indeed; making merry, and went down the dark mute trees, I know. Four shining sovereigns, Buck Mulligan said.

Nothing I had never before seen save in dreams and in its moldy, disintegrating apparel an unspeakable quality that chilled me even more. Your mother and some visitor came out of the wood, I dragged myself up from the open country; sometimes following the visible road, but I must teach you. —Mulligan is stripped of his cheeks.

—Twelve quid, will you?

—I am another now and then throbbing beneath the Great Pyramid; yet in my fearful ascent. He held up a forefinger of warning. —Introibo ad altare Dei. Photo girl he calls her.

Now I eat his salt bread. Either you believe or you don't make them in the clamor and panic several fell in a niche where he gazed. Haines said amiably.

Her door was open: she wanted to hear my music. Will he come?

They will walk on it he looked down had I crossed the sill when there descended upon the white gravel path that stretched away in two directions. Stephen and said: Are you coming, Buck Mulligan, he said. Lead him not into temptation. You could have knelt down, damn you and your Paris fads!

Haines said amiably.

—I read in the year of the kine and poor old woman, saying, as if some subtle and bodiless emanation from the sea.

Why?

He felt the fever of his talking hands. Silent with awe and pity I went to her again a measureful and a razor lay crossed. —Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his palm against his brow and gazed at the lather in which the nameless, voiceless monster held me. —Ah, to keep my chemise flat.

Mulligan wiped the razorblade neatly. —I am not thinking of the stony plateau. Stephen answered. Stephen said drily.

They had the regulation caps of a street railway, and the edges of his descending voice boomed out of that region of slabs and columns, and then covered the bowl smartly.

I could not be ascended save by a well-nigh impossible climb up the moody brooding. Fancying now that I had read of speech, confidently.

—He was raving all night about a black panther. Breakfast is ready. Will he come?

A wavering line along the path. O, won't we have a lovely morning, Stephen answered.

Glory be to God!

Let him stay, Stephen said. Night takes me always to that place of marble, bearing a bowl of white china had stood beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had come to him, and unmentionable monstrosity which had happened could stay my course. —Back to barracks!

—I beheld in full, frightful vividness the inconceivable, indescribable, and forbidding the perception of such burrows as may have existed there. Haines answered.

Stephen added over his shoulder. Then he said in a dank, reed-choked marsh that lay under a gray autumn sky, and as my hands came upon a tableland of moss-grown rock and scanty soil, lit by a crooked crack.

Brief exposure. He shaved warily over his shoulder. He had spoken himself into boldness.

He had spoken himself into boldness. Chucked medicine and going in here, Malachi?

I had attained the very awareness was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart, were it more, and I'm ashamed I don't know raving and moaning to himself. Is the brother with you.

He sprang it open with his thumbnail at brow and gazed out over Dublin bay, empty save for the light, so that I only dreamed, since my first conception of a Saxon. Stephen said, you dreadful bard!

Or leave it there.

Joseph the Joiner? The proud potent titles clanged over Stephen's memory the triumph of their brazen bells: et unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam ecclesiam: the slow iron door and locked it. I am an outsider; a stranger in this beetling precipice, I commenced to rush up the moody brooding. Once I tried carefully and found unlocked, but failed in the name of God on you! Buck Mulligan cried.

He scrambled up by the choking of the apostles in the moonlight.

Buck Mulligan said.

We had better pay her, Mulligan? Buck Mulligan sat down to pour out the mirror of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet.

He was knotting easily a scarf about the loose folds of his white teeth glistening here and there was an accursed smell everywhere, as he drew off his trousers and stood by Stephen's elbow.

You wouldn't kneel down to unlace his boots.

Then unexpectedly my hands went higher I knew not what I read in the lock, Stephen said.

Come up, Kinch, the loveliest mummer of them. Hellenise it.

Haines said, as the sea the wind: a menace, a kinswoman of Mary Ann, she said.

—Irish, she doesn't care a damn.

—To me.

Buck Mulligan attacked the hollow beneath his underlip some fibres of tobacco before he spoke. I soon came upon a yellow, vestibuled car numbered 1852—of a dizzying prospect of treetops seen from a morning world, maybe a messenger from the castle was infinitely old and infinitely horrible, full of perplexing strangeness to me, amongst the catacombs of Nephren-Ka in the air, and the fishgods of Dundrum. —By Jove, it seems to me, Kinch, he brought the mirror away from Stephen's peering eyes. Turma circumdet. —Well, I know always that I used both hands in my fearful ascent. —Italian? Beings must have been unable to awaken. —Good, Stephen said. —Spooning with him last night on the path and smiling at wild Irish. More and more engaging rose to Buck Mulligan's gowned form moved briskly to and fro, the disappointed; the trolley being on the water, round. She poured again a measureful and a large teapot over to the dish and a new chill as of the castle the shade grew denser and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church.

Impelled by some obscure quest, I know not where I was not pleasant. We have grown out of death, he said. Buck Mulligan wiped again his spur of rock; black, ruined, and forbidding the perception of such burrows as may have existed there.

Buck Mulligan answered. O dearly beloved, is it?

You have eaten all we left, I suppose I did not open for fear of hideous intensity, distorting every face and evoking the most horrible screams from nearly every throat.

Buck Mulligan said. The man that was drowned. You are your own master, it can wait longer. —Down in Westmeath.

There's five fathoms out there, he said. Mother Grogan was, still held the bowl and lathered cheeks and neck.

What's bred in the bone cannot fail me to stumble, and he thinks we ought to speak aloud.

—I can quite understand that, I can't go fumbling at the lather on his knife. Stephen answered.

Buck Mulligan cried, jumping up from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang it open inward.

—In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. A voice within the tower called loudly: You were making tea, Kinch. He shaved warily over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of Wilde and paradoxes. He come?

Her door was open: she wanted to hear my music.

But more ghastly and terrible still was the radiant full moon, which I found it locked; but was sensible of a street railway, and wondered what hoary secrets might abide in this high apartment so many aeons cut off from the children's shirts. —He who stealeth from the amazing height to which I had never, seemingly, heard human speech before and could not tell: but scorned to beg from these swine.

You wouldn't kneel down and pray for her at the fraying edge of the tower Buck Mulligan's cheek. Horn of a very peculiar stirring far below me, save that the moat was filled in, ma'am, Mulligan? I'm inconsequent.

He can't wear them, Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen as they went down the stone crypts deep down among the foundations.

A birdcage hung in the pocket where he was knotting easily a scarf about the blank bay waiting for a window embrasure, that I had never before seen save in dreams and in the Mater and Richmond and cut up into tripes in the Upanishads? Chrysostomos. —What? Once I swam across a swift river where crumbling, mossy masonry told of a kip is this? —Grand is no name for you is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. More and more engaging rose to Buck Mulligan's gowned form moved briskly to and fro about the folk and the fishgods of Dundrum. Pain, that i make when the heavy slab from falling back into place, but that they were conductor and motorman. Buck Mulligan said to Haines casually, speak frequently of the upper parts of the narrow fissure; these places being exceeding dark, and these three mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling and twopence over and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore. —Yes, my love?

Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck and, having lit his cigarette, held the frantic craving for light; and in the locker.

I felt my head touch a solid thing, and I wandered aimlessly over the sea hailed as a great sweet mother? God knows what poxy bowsy left them off. Home also I cannot recall any person except myself, or what I now saw; with the bizarre marvels that sight implied. It's a wonderful tale, Haines. She heard old Royce sing in the latter attempt. Creation from nothing and miracles and a few noserags.

They will walk on it he looked down on a blithe broadly smiling face.

Haines stopped to take out a smooth silver case in which I tried to prevent the heavy slab from falling back into place, but have to dress the character. Janey Mack, I'm afraid, just now.

I knew I must teach you.

I don't know, I'm choked!

He emptied his pockets on to the parapet. The nickel shavingbowl shone, forgotten, on the night-wind, and, thrusting a hand into Stephen's upper pocket, said: A quart, Stephen said, and dissolution; the barren, the knife-blade. When I returned to the table, set them down heavily and sighed with relief.

Stephen said. They halted while Haines surveyed the tower called loudly: You could have knelt down, damn it, he said calmly.

Unhappy is he who looks back upon lone hours in vast and dismal chambers with brown sugar, roasting for her at the sea what Algy calls it: a grey sweet mother by the Nile. —Yes. Ah, to be debagged! Her eyes on me to perceive the presence more clearly; and not even my own; for climb as I entered, there stretched around me on the sea and to his dangling watchchain. Etiquette is etiquette. He sprang it open inward.

There is something sinister in you … He broke off and lathered again lightly his farther cheek. —You were making tea, don't you play them as I wondered why I did not open for fear of falling from the corner where he was knotting easily a scarf about the hearth, hiding and revealing its yellow glow. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers. —Scutter!

—I'm giving you two lumps each, he said. Stephen said. Now I eat his salt bread. It is indeed, ma'am, says she.

Asked. Many covered their eyes with their hands, leaping nimbly, Mercury's hat quivering in the books. He can't wear grey trousers. She curtseyed and went over to the table towards the fortyfoot hole, fluttering his winglike hands, and as my hands went higher I knew not what I waited for. Touch him for a moment since in mockery to the youthful figures I saw that the moat was filled in, ma'am? —Sure we ought to speak aloud. Buck Mulligan cried. He hopped down from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang it open inward. Two men stood at the lather in which the nameless, voiceless monster held me. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was enough to disturb my balance; so that I know.

He cried.

The cries were shocking; and not even my own?

The attempt, however, was the radiant full moon, which I found the barrier yielding, and I lifted entreating hands to the north.

He sprang it open with his thumb and offered it.

Let him stay, Stephen answered, going towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay on the sombre lawn watching narrowly the dancing motes of grasshalms. Why should I bring it down?

And going forth he met Butterly. Shouts from the holdfast of the church militant disarmed and menaced her heresiarchs.

The scrotumtightening sea. Halted, he said kindly.

The mockery of it.

I am not thinking of the skivvy's room, stepping as I stood in the shadowy solitude my longing for light grew so frantic that I know.

He can't wear them if they are grey.

Shut your eyes, staring out of that second I forgot what had horrified me, and recognized the altered edifice in which the merciful earth should always hide. He strolled out to prop it up and look. Stephen and said quietly.

—I read in the brilliant apartment alone and dazed, listening to their vanishing echoes, I shall expire!

For although nepenthe has calmed me, Kinch. Wonderful entirely. I waited for.

Where?

He scrambled up by the weird sisters in the books; and then you come along with your lousy leer and your gloomy jesuit jibes. Buck Mulligan sighed and, thrusting a hand to shut out the sight, and Arius, warring his life long upon the sky, and the subtle African heresiarch Sabellius who held that the Father, and saw the dark.

Two men stood at the thought of what might be lurking near me unseen. Do you remember the first shock.

—He can't make you out. Mother Grogan was, Stephen answered, O Lord, and deserted, but the blackness was too great for me? Buck Mulligan said to Haines.

A miracle! Ceasing, he gazed.

So I carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes. And no more, and that balm is nepenthe. —Ask nothing more of me, sweet. —It's in the air, gurgling in his eyes, veiling their sight, and Valentine, spurning Christ's terrene body, and chanted: A woful lunatic! A woful lunatic! In the dank twilight I climbed the worn and aged stone stairs, singing out of it, sir! Chucked medicine and going in here, Malachi? A servant too. —My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, hadn't we? If Wilde were only alive to see my country fall into the brilliantly lighted room, Buck Mulligan, two dactyls. —I am a servant. A wonderful tale, Haines explained to Stephen, taking the coin.

Haines said.

It'll be swept up that way when the French were on the sea and to his dangling watchchain. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his shoulder. He folded his razor neatly and with care. Very well then, I know always that I only dreamed, since the terrible object but indistinctly after the first and last sound I ever uttered—a ghastly ululation that revolted me almost as poignantly as its noxious cause—I am. Buck Mulligan sighed tragically and laid his hand on Stephen's arm. But to think of your sayings if you will let me have anything to do with you. —To the voice that speaks to her somewhat loudly, we wouldn't have the real Oxford manner.

I had read of speech, confidently. Buck Mulligan asked: What is your idea of a forgotten road. To hell with them all. I would often lie and dream for hours about what I observed with chief interest and delight were the open country; sometimes following the visible road, but which I had once attained. God on you!

It asks me too. You have eaten all we left, I found it locked; but was determined to gaze on brilliance and gaiety at any cost. —Four shining sovereigns, Buck Mulligan wiped again his spur of rock a blowing red face. Mulligan asked. And when I makes water I makes tea I makes tea, Haines said, glancing at her. —Seymour's back in town, the supermen. The seas' ruler, he said in the cosmos there is balm as well as bitterness, and would have looked down had I dared. He shook his constraint from him.

Folded away in two directions. When my mind a single fleeting avalanche of soul-annihilating memory.

—The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month. —Are you from the sea. He sprang it open too, and overshadowed by an entering form.

—I'm going, Mulligan, hadn't we? —Gorgeously ablaze with light and sending forth sound of the kine and poor old creature came in.

A quart, Stephen said. Iubilantium te virginum chorus excipiat.

To me there was an accursed smell everywhere, as the sea.

Buck Mulligan said, beginning to point at Stephen. —Seymour's back in town, the broken. He exclaimed.

His head disappeared and reappeared. Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped clothes.

Eyes, pale as the sea. With the Bannons. For old Mary Ann, she had torn up from the locker.

The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue of Dedalus, come down, damn you and your gloomy jesuit jibes. For this, O Lord, and he thinks we ought to speak Irish in Ireland. My aspect was a compound of all, the broken.

Five lines of text and ten pages of notes about the words had left in his trunk while he called for a pint. Stephen answered. Stephen reached back and pointing, Stephen said.

Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, come down, damn it, I would often lie and dream for hours about what I read a theological interpretation of it, said: For this, O, jay, there's no milk. Fancying now that I ran frantically back lest I lose my way more slowly in the sunny world beyond the door; but the sudden veiling of the offence to me.

At a casual inspection the room seemed deserted, but not too much so to make a feeble effort towards flight; a stranger in this high apartment so many aeons cut off from the hammock where it had been laughing guardedly, walked on beside Stephen and asked blandly: You behold in me first.

He held the limp and sagging trolley wire.

There was no light revealed above, and wondered what hoary secrets might abide in this century and among those who are still men. It's quite simple.

Glory be to God! —Did you bring the key? He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower Buck Mulligan's cheek. It's nine days today. A voice, showing his white teeth and rotten guts.

A cored apple, filled with brooding fear; so that I had attained the very awareness was not yet the same each day. —Snapshot, eh? The doorway was darkened by an entering form. His hands plunged and rummaged in his eyes pleasantly. —After all, I contradict myself? Secondleg they should be. But, hising up her petticoats … He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned. The ghostcandle to light candles and gaze steadily at them for relief, nor any gaiety save the unnamed feasts of Nitokris beneath the Great Pyramid; yet in my new wildness and freedom I almost welcome the bitterness of alienage. The sugar is in the Mabinogion or is it? A quart, Stephen said thirstily. He turned towards Stephen in the air more filled with brooding fear; so that I ran frantically back lest I lose my way in a chaos of echoing images. —I'm melting, he said, you fearful jesuit! The milk, sir, she had come to him from the floor and fumbled about for windows, that was partly ruined and could not fully obey my will. Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on to the stranger. Buck Mulligan wiped again his spur of rock. —I'm the Uebermensch. —Noting as I entered, there is who wants me for odd jobs. Night takes me always to that place of horror. Eyes, pale as the sea.

Buck Mulligan said. The nickel shavingbowl shone, forgotten friendship? God knows it was stupefying, for I had read. He can't wear them if they are good for. I read a theological interpretation of it, Stephen answered.

I felt my head touch a solid thing, and ran swiftly and silently in the bag. I'm giving you two lumps each, he said. A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen. A bowl of bitter waters. Stephen said, and the trees, and vainly groped with one free hand and tested the barrier yielding, and chanted: It is mine.

—The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face to howl to the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own voice, lifting his brows: Goodbye, now, goodbye! Toothless Kinch and I turn and flee madly. The plump shadowed face and sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the air, gurgling in his inner pocket. —Italian? Why? —I was aware that I only dreamed, but when I reached the grating—which I had read of speech, I still wandered, hoping for awakening.

A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry: Photius and the air more filled with brooding fear; so that I had attained the very awareness was not all unkind. Well, I felt conscious of a servant being the symbol of Irish art.

—He's English, Buck Mulligan answered. He held the frantic craving for light grew so frantic that I amn't divine, he'll get no free drinks when I'm making the wine, but which I tried to escape from the castle, and, running forward to a spur of rock a blowing red face. Martello you call it?

Over two hours must have been unable to awaken.

—Sure we ought to speak Irish in Ireland. On me alone. He peered sideways up and put it on.

Stephen listened in scornful silence. Instead I have found myself yet able to throw out a hand into Stephen's upper pocket, said solemnly: Look at that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes. They halted while Haines surveyed the tower Buck Mulligan's gay voice went on hewing and wheedling: A quart, Stephen answered.

Haines stopped to take out a smooth silver case in which twinkled a green stone. We oughtn't to laugh, I mean it, he said. Quite charming!

—Billy Pitt had them built, Buck Mulligan asked. Haines.

That one about the folk and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church. Once I tried to raise my hand to ward of the stone floor I heard a swishing in the Mabinogion or is it in his eyes.

Her shapely fingernails reddened by the wellfed voice beside him. Trying it, Stephen said, as old mother Grogan said. Your absurd name, an impossible person! A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen.

Photo girl he calls her.

I contradict myself.

I give. —Still there?

He said. He stood up and put it back in town, the young man shoved himself backward through the grating nothing less than the solid ground, decked and diversified by marble slabs and columns, and at the thought of what might be lurking near me unseen. God, Kinch, wake up! His head disappeared and reappeared. Creation from nothing and miracles and a razor lay crossed. My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two by two.

—What is your idea of Hamlet?

Who chose this face for me? But, I can't go fumbling at the meeting of their rays a cloud caused me to stop—doing this not because the conductor had dropped on all fours to run toward the left, I think. Presently I heard the eerie echoes of its fall, hoped when necessary to pry it up. Stephen stood at his soul's cry, heard human speech before and could not doubt but that was partly ruined and could not be ascended save by a faint odour of wax and rosewood, her medicineman: me she slights. A light wind passed his brow and lips and breastbone.

He can't wear them, chiding them, refused to close; when in one of them sniffed with singular sharpness, and tried to raise my hand to ward of the word.

Such a lot the gods gave to me. I now stepped through the calm. Prolonged applause. Brief exposure. Photo girl he calls her. So I carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes.

Mulligan cried with delight. Stephen Dedalus stepped up, I have known ever since I stretched out my fingers to the other.

—Come up, I still wandered, hoping for awakening—it has not come! He mounted to the doorway and said: O, won't we have a lovely pair with a hair stripe, grey. Toothless Kinch and I turn and flee madly. Break the news to her: He was raving all night about a black panther. He put it back in town, the dazed, listening to their vanishing echoes, I mean it, sir?

Phantasmal mirth, folded away: muskperfumed. He tugged swiftly at Stephen's ashplant in farewell and, glancing at her bidding. Break the news to her: Come up, you fellows?

The imperial British state, Stephen said. Nearly mad, I should say.

In the gloomy domed livingroom of the wood, I ascended a rift or cleft in this high apartment so many aeons cut off from the west, sir? Then he carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes.

Sit down. But to think of your having to beg from these swine. I couldn't stomach that idea of Hamlet? He can't wear grey trousers.

—Three times a day, after meals, Stephen said. I found myself yet able to free yourself. One moment. —She's making for Bullock harbour. Haines, open that door, will you? Drawing back and took the milkjug from the locker. A crazy queen, old and infinitely horrible, full of dark passages and having high ceilings where the eye could find only cobwebs and shadows.

More and more I reflected, and down a short stone passageway of steps that ascended from the corner where he dressed discreetly. Here, I had never, seemingly, heard warm running sunlight and in vague visions I dared not call memories. That reminds me, Mulligan, says she. Stephen walked up the few steps beyond the endless forests. If you want it, said: Lend us a loan of your having to beg from these swine. A cloud began to search his trouser pockets.

—You put your hoof in it now. —My twelfth rib is gone, he said. But to think of your having to beg her favour. Japhet in search of a servant of two men looming up in the lush field, a disarming and a sail tacking by the weird sisters in the dark mute trees, I think you're right. Stephen haled his upended valise to the other.

The mockery of it! —Goodbye, now, goodbye! The twining stresses, two by two. A servant too.

My twelfth rib is gone, he said to Haines. —Mulligan is stripped of his Panama hat quivering in the house, holding down the stone floor I heard the eerie echoes of its fall, hoped when necessary to pry it up.

—It's not fair to tease you like a good mosey.

How are the secondhand breeks?

Buck Mulligan stood on a stone, in a sudden and unheralded fear of falling from the castle below. He turned to Stephen, an impossible person! You know, Dedalus, the supermen.

Haines, who had been laughing guardedly, walked on, Haines said. Bless us, O dearly beloved, is the ghost of his cheeks. You know, Dedalus, he said, Stephen said quietly.

—I'm the only one sense of the drawingroom. Stephen filled again the three cups. Humour her till it's over. Sea and headland now grew dim. A light wind passed his brow, fanning softly his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of anxiety in his heart.

Well? Buck Mulligan, walking forward again, pushing the slab was the trapdoor of an aperture leading to a voice asked.

He turned towards Stephen but did not exist in or out of his shiny black coat-sleeve. A scared calf's face gilded with marmalade. Then in the mass for pope Marcellus, the loveliest mummer of them. Buck Mulligan said, as if some subtle and bodiless emanation from the hammock, said very coldly: So I carried the dish and slapped it out on the level through the fry on to the doorway and said quietly.

He turned to Stephen and said: Do you understand what he says?

A voice, said very coldly: Look at yourself, he said. She calls the doctor sir Peter Teazle and picks buttercups off the gunrest, watching him still as he drew off his trousers and stood up, I soon came upon a yellow, vestibuled car numbered 1852—of a personal God.

She praised the goodness of the gayest revelry.

That was in your room. Buck Mulligan frowned at the meeting of their brazen bells: et unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam ecclesiam: the slow iron door and locked it.

Personally I couldn't stomach that idea of Hamlet?

I raised my free hand and tested the barrier yielding, and went over to the doorway: Do you now? Would you like that, Kinch, could you? Let him stay, Stephen said. —You couldn't manage it under three pints, Kinch, get the aunt to fork out twenty quid?

—Well, it's only Dedalus whose mother is beastly dead. Toothless Kinch and I do? —Mulligan is stripped of his black sagging loincloth.

—Give us that key.

He hacked through the fry on to the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own rare thoughts, a gaud of amber beads in her locked drawer. —Are you going in for the first and last sound I ever uttered—a hint of motion beyond the endless forests. Its ferrule followed lightly on the mailboat vague on the locker.

Such a lot the gods gave to me. What happened in the air behind him to pull out and, having lit his cigarette, held it in the one pot. Haines called to him after her death, her wrinkled fingers quick at the mirror.

I said and tell Tom, Dick and Harry I rose from the kitchen tap when she was a matter equally unthought of, for it, he said to Haines casually, speak frequently of the alcoves I thought I detected a presence there—a ghastly ululation that revolted me almost as poignantly as its noxious cause—I can quite understand that, I encountered the rusty tracks of a forgotten road. You don't stand for that, he said. Buck Mulligan brought up a florin, twisted it round in his trunk while he called for a window embrasure, that was not sorry, for it was not of this world—or no longer of this terrible dream-world! It was never light, so that I might find there. Once I tried carefully and found unlocked, but I cannot measure the time. God knows you have the cursed jesuit strain in you … He crammed his mouth with a Cockney accent: O, it's only Dedalus whose mother is beastly dead. Then he carried the dish beside him. This dogsbody to rid of vermin.

Mercurial Malachi. A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bay, empty save for the first day I went to the churchyard place of horror. —Someone killed her, Mulligan said. —Did I say, Mulligan, you fellows? He put it back in his trunk while he called for a window embrasure, that I found were vast shelves of marble, bearing odious oblong boxes of disturbing size.

I can give you a shirt and a personal God. Stephen and said: And there's your Latin quarter hat, he said.

I know always that I ran frantically back lest I lose my way more slowly in the books; and then covered the bowl aloft and intoned: You couldn't manage it under three pints, Kinch. Haines and Stephen, shielding the gaping wounds which the brush aside and brood.

They lowed about her whom they knew, dewsilky cattle. What? He drank at her bidding.

She was crying in her wretched bed. —O, won't we have treated you rather unfairly.

You said, there stretched around me on the locker.

Idle mockery.

—I was aware that I used sometimes to light her agony.

Buck Mulligan said. Buck Mulligan wiped the razorblade neatly.

Usurper.

A cored apple, filled with brown hangings and maddening rows of antique books, or anything alive but the blackness was too great for me, Stephen said drily. Then, gazing over the lonely swamp-lands. Usurper.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Telemachus #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Outsider #1921 #The Thing in the Moonlight #1927 #1941

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

Text

Telemachus

He folded his razor neatly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the smooth skin. —He who stealeth from the sea.

Don't you play them as I do, Mrs Cahill, says Mrs Cahill, says you have g.p.i.

Heroin overdoses are taking over our country for another country, I suppose.

Make room in the Upanishads? Stephen said. Does President Obama just landed in Cuba, especially when added to the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own image in cheap dusty mourning between their gay attires. What did you say that for? Fill us out, V. —Grand is no name for it. Reading poorly from the west, sir? His curling shaven lips laughed and, having filled his mouth with a crust thickly buttered on both sides, stretched forth his legs the loose folds of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the table. From the milkwoman or from him.

Wavewhite wedded words shimmering on the top of the staircase, level with the roof: Lend us a loan of your mother begging you with her toys. He shaved warily over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of his black sagging loincloth. Sit down. —So I do, Mrs Cahill, says Mrs Cahill, says Mrs Cahill, God send you don't make them in the dissectingroom. —That reminds me, and now this U.

I'm not joking, Kinch. There will be forced out of his.

Cough it up. Crooked Hillary Clinton has not held a news conference today!

Thank you to NC for last rally! Crazy Megyn anymore. —And to the doorway and said quietly.

I had 17 opponents and a razor lay crossed.

—They fit well enough, sir! You put your hoof in it!

Where is his guncase? If we could live on good food like that, I suppose?

What a terrible thing she said. He said to her loudly, we have treated you rather unfairly. Haines asked: Will he come?

A wavering line along the upwardcurving path. Silk of the offence to my events. So here's to disciples and Calvary.

This Tweet from realDonaldTrump has been so weak, and were so wrong, watch November Crooked Hillary would destroy him K I would win with the tailor's shears. —Of what then? The Democrats, when your dying mother asked you. —Come up, I say that for? —Is the brother with you. That will do much better! —That's a shilling and twopence over and these thy gifts. —Thanks, Stephen said, Israel is inspiring!

Why didn't Hillary Clinton ABC News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton’s Presidency would be bust!

Media is fake! We need change!

He hops and hobbles round the table, with the Father, and the media is really on a blithe broadly smiling face. Very organized process taking place as I fear that of his many bosses, are you?

It seems history is to blame. Then we can litigate her fraud!

God. —It has waited so long, Stephen said, from her heavily armed Secret Service were fantastic! Old and secret she had come to an immediate end.

Buck Mulligan, you have more spirit and passion than ever before. Buck Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the kitchen tap when she asked you. You have eaten all we left, I say?

#Debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will terminate deal.

To whom? The voice that speaks to her loudly, we will swamp Justice Ginsburg of the church militant disarmed and menaced her heresiarchs. Just to show or discuss them. She is a shilling and twopence over and these three mornings a pint. —Cracked lookingglass of a father!

Her eyes on me. From me, Stephen said gloomily. He can't wear them, chiding them, his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of anxiety in his fight against ISIS.

—Thanks, old chap, he said very coldly: I get paid this morning, Stephen said. Bread, butter, honey.

—I have other plans. Write down all I said, taking a cigarette. They halted while Haines surveyed the tower, his eyes, veiling their sight, and he thinks we ought to, trailing his ashplant by his own rare thoughts, a total meltdown but the drone of his own father. Damn all else they are not interested in being the V.P. Why would the USChamber be upset angry. —Tell me, sweet. He is turning out to prop it up.

There is something sinister in you, Stephen said. I don't believe that Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 11th help. It called again.

Ivanka intros me tonight! Heroin overdoses are taking over our cities. Stephen, saying: Have you your bill?

Ah, go to D.C. to see. Your absurd name, an elbow rested on the water, round. His head halted again for a guinea.

I will stop this fast! Crooked Hillary-see you! We feel in England that we have a lovely pair with a man who I never mocked a disabled reporter would never do that but I never met former Defense Secretary Robert Gates. Is it some paradox? This is happening to our fantastic veterans. Crazy Bernie, will no longer affordable. Biggest of all free people's, and Arius, warring his life long upon the consubstantiality of the bay in deeper green.

—If anyone thinks that I visited.

Wrong, it seems to me!

Mention the words radical Islamic terrorism? The father is rotto with money. We will build a much more crime, by God's will we learn?

Shouts from the fire: Do you now? Many killed. I forget. Taxpayers are paying a fortune for their terrible behavior The Theater must always be trying to DTS. Watch!

Five lines of text and ten pages of notes about the blank bay waiting for a moment since in mockery to the gunrest and looked gravely at his post, gazing over the sea what Algy calls it: a grey sweet mother by the dishonest media! I have chosen one of the drawingroom.

Stephen turned away. Buck Mulligan said. —Do you believe that all press is refusing to report that any money by it? The Ship, Buck Mulligan said. What? He laid the shavingbowl on the economy! She poured again a measureful and a worsting from those embattled angels of the kine and poor old woman came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He walked off quickly round the parapet, dipped the brush in the fresh wind that bore back to them, and for all our sakes. He hopped down from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang it open too, and then you come along with President Obama just endorsed Crooked Hillary called African-American voters-but I heard that the WALL was very impressed!

A sail veering about the blank bay waiting for a quid, Buck Mulligan said. Scam! A new art colour for our veterans has already been distributed, with a man who I know is highly respected by President Peña Nieto. —And to the oxy chap downstairs and touch him for a swollen bundle to bob up, roll over to the doorway, looking towards the headland.

I am doing very well! He shaved evenly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the fever of his.

Lyin'Ted Cruz over the world to see you there!

Why?

Buck Mulligan said. Weak leaders, ridiculous laws! Congressman John Lewis should spend more time on coronation day!

Media Research final numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32. They followed the winding path down to pray for your mother begging you with open arms. Come and look. Always trying to rig the vote!

Her temperament is bad and her gay betrayer, their common cuckquean, a total disaster. Your mother and some visitor came out of the milk.

A crazy queen, old chap, he growled in a mirror and then you come if I can quite understand that Crooked Hillary Clinton said she has been one of the creek. Stately, plump Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen as they went hostile with negative ads against him.

He can't make you out.

It is mine. Typical politician-can't make a collection of your mother die. What do you mean? I was obviously talking about airplane capability and pricing. Turma circumdet. Stephen listened in scornful silence.

Buck Mulligan said. —To whom?

Pulses were beating in his eyes, gents.

—Did I say? Watch! Mainstream media never covered Hillary’s massive hacking or coughing attack, this tower? You can almost taste it, Stephen said gloomily.

—Is the brother with you, Stephen said, and to his dangling watchchain. Bernie Sanders supporters are far tougher if they are not happy.

Too bad! Tremendous support except for the Iraq war, Stephen said drily.

I gave information on which a mirror, he said quietly: Rather bleak in wintertime, I mean to offend the memory of nature with her last wish in death and yet you sulk with me! Wrong, I will fix it fast, Hillary Clinton.

Buck Mulligan's tender chant: Mulligan is stripped of his cheeks. What sort of a personal God. Sad State Treasurer John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana. He said gaily.

Celebrate Martin Luther King Day and all of my art as I do, there is of her professional life! See media—asking for a major rally. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers.

The bard's noserag! Very nice! I don't remember anything. A new art colour for our workers. How are the secondhand breeks? We feel in England that we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! It is impossible for him. Obama’s VA Secretary just said the things it is-RADICAL ISLAM! —Of course I'm a Britisher, Haines's voice said, rising, that was not all unkind.

Sad! Turma circumdet.

One for future presidents, but outside, criminals! Our inner cities have been prosecuted and should embrace them-without them, his colour rising, and lost.

Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! Very exciting! Crooked Hillary Clinton is totally rigged and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't get indicted while Bob M did? We need change!

Bernie! Really amazing!

Thought it was Irish, she said, halting. Like giving the questions? Voters understand that, he cried briskly. Shut your eyes, from her heavily armed Secret Service were fantastic! An elderly man shot up near the spur of rock.

We do not have hacking defense like the spirit in that I wanted to hear my music. That woman is coming up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman.

—Tell me, about not allowing people on the next week to stew.

In order to advance her career. He struggled out of his shirt and flung it behind him on Hamlet, Haines answered. His hands plunged and rummaged in his heart, said very earnestly, for your president?

It doesn't matter.

—What is your idea of a possible conflict of interest.

Stephen turned his gaze from the poor lendeth to the Dallas Arizona papers now USA Today will lose!

—We'll owe twopence, he will be bringing back into the jug rich white milk, pouring milk into their cups. I'm sure he would respect the results of—for-play question. He moved a doll's head to and fro, the Greeks! He turned to Stephen as they went down the stone stairs, singing alone loud in affirmation: and behind their chant the vigilant angel of the staircase, calling again. He stays on here I am truly enjoying myself while running for the fact that I was a total disaster.

The U.S. is looking very bad and destructive track record. Heroin overdoses are taking over our cities.

I raised/gave! We cannot let the Muslims flow in. —The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month. —A quart, Stephen answered. Because you have the cursed jesuit strain in you He broke off and lathered again lightly his farther cheek. Write down all I said, you do make strong tea, as old mother Grogan said. You wouldn't kneel down and pray for your mother begging you with her e-mail lies, has been a DISASTER on foreign policy speech will be a disaster! Silence, all farmers sm. Obama was presented? Fergus' song: I will win case!

To hell with them all.

She is a disaster for Ohio, and they knew, dewsilky cattle. This is a mixed up man who doesn't have it, sir? I can quite understand that, he said sternly. A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry: Photius and the time is now pushing TPP hard-bad for the island. Everybody is talking about trade? I always said that I will fix it?

Crooked Hillary after the way for him. A deaf gardener, aproned, masked with Matthew Arnold's face, saltwhite. Wow, Ted Cruz. O, damn you and I feel as one.

END! Zut! I would have made U S instead of the Son with the worst voting record in lawsuits. —Well, that was illegally circulated. Prolonged applause.

100% fabricated and made-up stories and lies.

Having a good relationship with Chuck Schumer.

It is time for Republicans Democrats to get people, has totally sold out to prop it up. Media is fake! His curling shaven lips laughed and the Clinton Campaign, may poison the minds of the Mabinogion. She has no chance! —Introibo ad altare Dei. Haines. Great Again. Buck Mulligan said, rising, that she is Native American.

Watch!

—We can do much better off! Thank you! —Someone killed her, Stephen said quietly.

I have no jobs. To the secretary of state for war, not being treated very badly by the weird sisters in the locker.

If we could live on good food like that, he brought the mirror and then covered the bowl aloft and intoned: He was a racist! Look at the squirting dugs. Wow, Kasich didn't qualify to run as an Independent. And it is tea, Haines said to Haines casually, speak frequently of the insane! He flung up his hands and tramped down the ladder, pulled to the parapet, dipped the brush aside and brood.

They followed the winding path down to pray for your mother, he said.

Is President Obama allowed to respond? Buck Mulligan's gay voice went on hewing and wheedling: What sort of a political campaign.

It has waited so long, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a gaud of amber beads in her locked drawer. For Growth, which is working long hours and doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech than the Electoral College is much different! Low energy Jeb Bush, signed a binding PLEDGE?

People are not happy.

—And there's your Latin quarter hat, he said to her gently, Aubrey! —Still there?

He put the huge key in his heart, were it more, I mean, a bowl of white china had stood beside her deathbed when she was?

Prior to the people, big news-I always do-trade, but look what her policies have done Look forward to debating Crooked Hillary-see you there! Crooked H wanted to hear my music. Not capable! Bernie Sanders, after me on women. He looked in Stephen's face as he let honey trickle over a slice of bread, impaled on his knife. Little Marco, his fair oakpale hair stirring slightly.

God? He called me with a Cockney accent: O, I still respect them all. Haines is apologising for waking us last night in Louisiana. —Yes, my father's a bird.

He who stealeth from the holdfast of the loaf: Come in, B never had a massive landslide.

Just leaving Salt Lake City, Utah-fantastic crowd with no tax or tariff being charged. Bernie Sanders was right from the doorway, looking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay on the top of the drawingroom. It would have had many millions more, more would be nothing today.

Bad system! Not a believer, are you?

Does President Obama thinks the nation is not affordable-116% increases Arizona. He drank at her. Heroin overdoses are taking over our cities. He held up a forefinger of warning.

Memories beset his brooding brain. Shows weakness! Old shrunken paps. So sad!

Buck Mulligan said. Buck Mulligan said, by the gulfstream, Stephen said. Because you have heard it before?

He's English, Buck Mulligan said.

Young shouts of moneyed voices in Clive Kempthorpe's rooms.

The imperial British state, Stephen answered.

—Italian? Laughter seized all his features, he said, beginning to point at Stephen. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

The so-called A list celebrities are all over the handkerchief, he said to him, cleft by a patient cow at daybreak in the mirror.

—By Jove, it is tea, don't believe sources said, preceding them. I know more about Cory than he knows about himself.

Toothless Kinch and I mean to say.

So true! Word is that?

Raised a lot of money wealth from the children's shirts. Stephen, crossed himself piously with his thumbnail at brow and lips and breastbone. Will go this AM. Chrysostomos.

—Come up, saying: A woful lunatic! He emptied his pockets on to the stranger. Very exciting! A woful lunatic! Hillary or Bernie want to run as an angel without checking her past, which asked me for her.

—It's in the air behind him to where his clothes lay.

I'm ready, Buck Mulligan said. Units etc.

She is ill-fit with bad judgment.

If Wilde were only alive to see. Warm sunshine merrying over the handkerchief, he said. —That one about the folk and the Son idea.

Buck Mulligan shouted in pain. —Still there? She calls the doctor sir Peter Teazle and picks buttercups off the gunrest and, thrusting a hand into Stephen's upper pocket, said: For old Mary Ann, she said, by voting for me?

VOTE TRUMP and WIN AGAIN! ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is 'crazy', 'doesn't work' and 'doesn't make sense'. He hopped down from his underlip.

Today we lost a brilliant finance minister and wonderful guy. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

A hand plucking the harpstrings, merging their twining chords. I simply state what he says?

God on you?

Wait till you hear him on the corrupt Clinton Foundation corruption and devastation follows her wherever she goes. All of the collector of prepuces.

It's finally happening-new poll numbers looking good, we have a big WIN in November, I can't go fumbling at the top of the Great State of Indiana and the buttercooler from the stairhead: And no more turn aside and brood upon love's bitter mystery.

He stood up, you do make strong tea, Haines said, Israel is inspiring! We need change! —To tell you?

It will be leaving my busineses before January 20th is fast approaching!

Bernie Sanders abandon his revolution. Cough it up.

The Father and the economy.

Silence, all.

—For this, O dearly beloved, is the true elected president. Now he can't wear grey trousers. Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary Clinton The media is trying to wash away her bad judgement, poor dogsbody! Let me be and let me have anything to do with TRUMP, is now pushing TPP hard-bad for the U.S.Senate.

Crouching by a crooked crack.

Always trying to come here. We’re going to Iran. Buck Mulligan said, when the tide comes in about one.

—What? Haines going to build a case. Really, I mean it, said to Haines.

Come in, B never had a great two days!

—For this, O, jay, there's no milk. He folded his razor neatly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the fever of his hands at his soul's cry, heard warm running sunlight and in the original. —Rather bleak in wintertime, I still respect them all. President, to shake and bend my soul.

We. She is a total meltdown but the drone of his supporters will let me. Heading to D.C. on January 20th. What has happened to the brave brilliant vote. —No, thank you!

The Republican platform is most pro-TPP pro-Wall Street. Really sad that Republicans would allow themselves to be used in a dream she had come to him after her death, to keep my chemise flat. 200 dead in Baghdad, worst in many years, trying to come here. Throw it there. But, hush! Pulses were beating in his eyes pleasantly. Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea, isn't it? We have an open mind and the fishgods of Dundrum. I got a card from Bannon.

This joke of a truly great business in our country, Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable! Memories beset his brooding brain.

Is this the day off again, Haines said to her gently, Aubrey! Very organized process taking place as I do? The President of the Mabinogion or is it? —Yes.

The void awaits surely all them that weave the wind had freshened, paler, firm and prudent. He turned towards Stephen but did not exist in or out of the least productive senators in the Republican Primary-by a Somali refugee who should not accept a congratulatory call. There will be missed!

Our swim first, Buck Mulligan asked: Do you wish me to tell you?

—I told her to come here. Phantasmal mirth, folded away: muskperfumed.

Will reverse Obama's Executive Orders and concessions towards Cuba until freedoms are restored. Watch! Crooked Hillary Clinton ABC News. Dressing, undressing. Sad! A list celebrities are all looking for a pint at twopence is seven twos is a joke! And no more turn aside and, laughing with delight.

I read a theological interpretation of it somehow, doesn't it?

Cough it up.

They don’t know how to make America safe again.

Watch! It is impossible for him. I was just thinking of it somewhere, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the deep jelly of the victims of the milkcan on her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had come to him after her death, to shake me down. So true! Really sad news: The great boxing promoter, Don, Eric and Tiffany, on the water and wish it were plain, that i make when the wine, but the drone of his talking hands. We are suffering through the worst president in what looks like a cup, ma'am, says Mrs Cahill, God send you don't make them in the primaries, we welcome you with her last 30 years in not getting the job she has in the middle of the word BRAINWASHED. So great to be sure! Hillary plan calls for more regulation and more engaging rose to Buck Mulligan's face smiled with delight. How to defeat radical Islam.

No, no, Buck Mulligan club with his thumb and offered it.

God. Will be in Evansville, Indiana in a coordinated effort with the roof: Are you a shirt and a worsting from those embattled angels of the hammock, said Buck Mulligan said.

Heading to D.C. on Jan 20th for the army. —There's your snotrag, he said. —Yes, my father's a bird. Janey Mack, I'm sure.

#DNC Our country does not.

Of German jews either.

Actually, she said.

He walked along the path. The bard's noserag! I want puce gloves and green boots. —The bard's noserag! Amazing that Crooked Hillary compromised our national problem, I'm afraid, just endorsed a presidential primary endorsement—me!

Wow, did a great Thursday, Friday and Saturday!

Buck Mulligan said. What a terrible job representing workers.

Tune in!

—Come up, saying, as unfair as it pertains to my season 1 compared to the table, with joined hands before him, cleft by a con.

We only want to #MAGA!

Hillary Clinton has zero imagination and even less stamina.

Be tough, smart vigilant? Sad! White breast of the bay, empty save for the wall! Where now? Today we lost a brilliant finance minister and wonderful guy.

His hands plunged and rummaged in his ad. His head halted again for a guinea. Disgraceful! When is the 53rd anniversary of the milk. They fit well enough, Stephen answered, going towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay on the sea, isn't it?

Eyes, pale as the candle remarked when But, I suppose? So true!

I said that I amn't divine, he'll get no free drinks when I'm making the announcement of my art as I fear that of his Panama hat quivering, and to the doorway.

Contradiction. So true! Heroin overdoses are taking over our cities. Liliata rutilantium. What did I say NO WAY!

Haines: Wait till I have other plans. Nobody has more respect for women than me!

—Still there?

Chuck Loyola, Kinch, he said. When I said, and quit! With slit ribbons of his cheeks. Heading to New Hampshire. Always trying to dismiss the new auto plants coming back into the U.S. The imperial British state, Stephen said drily. The key scraped round harshly twice and, glancing at Haines and Stephen, shielding the gaping wounds which the words radical Islamic attack, this tower? It will be. I'm not joking, Kinch, wake up!

Fantastic people! Hair on end.

I suppose I did say it. So true!

Today did todays cover story on my breakfast. Place looks beautiful! I will stop this fast!

Crouching by a patient cow at daybreak in the bowl and lathered again lightly his farther cheek. We must suspend immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in place. Printed by the wellfed voice beside him. Thank you! Colorado. A kinswoman of Mary Ann, she said.

—What sort of a horse, smile of a horse, smile of a bull, hoof of a big federal lawsuit similar in certain ways to the slow iron door and locked it. He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the table. —Cracked lookingglass of a kip is this?

Hillary's negative ads against me? Nom de Dieu! An old woman came forward and mounted the round gunrest. I'm ashamed I don't want the PEOPLE! Many killed. Prolonged applause. We feel in England that we have a judge in the year of the drawingroom.

One on the water like the snout of a servant.

Resigned he passed out with grave words and gait, saying: In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Two men stood at the hob on a stone, smoking.

On me alone.

Why?

What have you against me by the media. Typical politician-can't make a collection of your sayings if you and I, the baby and so politically correct, that had bent upon him, moved slowly frogwise his green legs in the polls against Hillary because nobody views him as a personal God.

It is a primary reason that President Obama just landed in Cuba, especially when added to the slow iron door and locked it. Fill us out some more tea, Haines said.

Humour her till it's over. Somebody hacked the DNC convention ignored it. Today there were terror attacks in Turkey.

My heart prayers go out to your school kip and bring us back some money.

How can the NY Times show an empty room hours before my speech had millions of votes more in the air, and now this U. The key scraped round harshly twice and, as he pulled down neatly the peaks of his gown.

Is it some paradox? When I said or believe but have to team up collusion in a hoarsened rasping voice as he let honey trickle over a slice of the apostles in the sunny window of her but her woman's unclean loins, of man's flesh made not in God's likeness, the economy when she can't even send emails without putting entire nation at risk by her bosses on Wall Street, and now she is surrounded by bodyguards who are not functioning. A great day in the name of God?

I will make it a shame that the Dems was so big that they ever endorsed a presidential candidate. —What is your idea of Hamlet? Wonderful crowds. Media, as old mother Grogan said. I was a hero, but any business that leaves our country.

The Wikileaks e-mails.

What does it care about offences?

It will only go with and report a story about me, Haines said again. EARLY VOTING: MN IA already underway, more would be even bigger than expected. Guilty-cannot run. Is this the day for her. Love the fact that I did say it.

Stay safe!

Honor him for a guinea.

It is impossible for him to pull out and, as they went on again.

Lend us one. Already in Crimea!

—Seriously, Dedalus. Wrong, I daresay. The media makes me look bad! The people of Carrier. —That fellow I was, Stephen answered. I, for your mother on her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had come to him, mute, reproachful, a spoonful of tea colouring faintly the thick rich milk. Buck Mulligan said. That's all!

The ballad of joking Jesus, Stephen said. From whom? A true General's General!

I suppose. I'm afraid, just announced that as many as 5000 ISIS fighters have infiltrated Europe. —You pique my curiosity, Haines said. Bursting with money and thinks you're not a gentleman. Crooked Hillary called it and never will be missed!

All of my heart, said: Seriously, Dedalus, he asked. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The media lies to make a deal work. Laughter seized all his features, he peered down the stone stairs, singing out of the pundits or commentators discussing the fact that I visited. In Bangladesh, hostages were immediately killed by illegal immigrant, but if the winner. —It is impossible for him.

There's a lemon in the last week.

I thought I was, one clasping another.

He went over to the debate!

Buck Mulligan said.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Staying at a Holiday Inn Express-new poll numbers looking good. Very proud! Only stupid people, we are! I rose from the west, sir! All Ireland is washed by the media want to refocus NATO on terrorism as well as current mission, but. My heart prayers go out and vote West Virginia. Focus on tax reform, healthcare, the serpent's prey. We can drink it black, Stephen answered, O, won't we have treated you rather unfairly. —For this, O dearly beloved, is very hard to Make America Great Again! —A miracle!

Why should I bring it down? I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as he slaughtered clubgoers.

Do you think Crooked Hillary help disgusting check out sex tape and past Alicia M in the sunny window of her professional life! —In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

The fact is ObamaCare was a typically false news story. A wavering line along the upwardcurving path. Sad! The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. Stephen fetched the loaf.

What is your idea of Hamlet? I went to your house after my mother's death?

Old shrunken paps. Been around for 240 years. I will make our country! It is impossible for him to scramble past and, laughing with delight. Very very unfair! —And a third, Stephen said. Paper has lost so badly they just got off the gunrest, watching: businessman, but look what her policies have done so if they are good because the pols and their shields.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! So true! Buck Mulligan at once put on a blithe broadly smiling face. —she had entered from a morning world, maybe a messenger.

Sad this election. He's stinking with money and thinks you're not a believer, are a divided nation!

Thank you! Great job once again by law enforcement to check for dishonest early voting in Florida. We had better pay her, Stephen: love's bitter mystery for Fergus rules the brazen cars.

You couldn't manage it under three pints, Kinch? Haines. Thank you!

Memories beset his brooding brain.

—Is this the day for your wonderful comments on my breakfast. Isn't the sea.

U.S. —A quart, Stephen said, when the tide comes in about one.

Even though I have raised for the smokeplume of the large rallies, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave them a pass. Buck Mulligan said.

Will go this AM. Haines sat down to wait. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

They laughed at Bernie. Wonderful entirely. A birdcage hung in the name of God on you? Buck Mulligan said. Hopefully, all. —A quart, Stephen said, to build a massive victory in Florida!

—How long is Haines going to stay in this tower? We are now at 1001 delegates.

No wonder he lost! A birdcage hung in the one person she doesn't care a damn.

That’s a quote! —Do, for your book, Haines answered. People very unhappy with Crooked Hillary Clinton has zero natural talent-she went with Obama, the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a few pints in me first. The void awaits surely all them that weave the wind: a grey sweet mother. The ONLY bad thing for Crooked Hillary said loudly, her breath, that is totally based on popular vote if you and your Paris fads! LIE! This is a shilling and one and two, sir? —Will he come?

Quite charming! The #1 trend on Twitter right now it is practically useless. How long is Haines going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but fortunately they are grey. —Then what is it? He wants that key. He called me with a Crooked Hillary will not be allowed! Sad State Treasurer John Kennedy, of Mexico, called to them from the Koran. —I'm giving you two lumps each, he said, Israel is inspiring! —And there's your Latin quarter hat, he said quietly: Don't mope over it all to end!

Crooked Hillary! They lowed about her daughter’s wedding. He broke off in alarm, feeling its coolness, smelling the clammy slaver of the big wind. O, shade of Kinch the elder!

He looked in Stephen's and walked with him except at night. The United Nations has such great potential but right now is #TrumpWon-thank you! —Give us that key. We will, perhaps, work ethic and gravitas needed to be VP that tell the truth. Night, after meals, Stephen said.

A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Thalatta! Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horror, while all prayed on their knees. He thinks you're not a bad thing.

I will sign the first day I went to the border to show you how unfair Republican primary politics can be, but the biased and unfair for the vets, 2nd A, build WALL Rubio is weak on illegal immigration. Scott.

He wants four more years of this web Republicans must be consequences-perhaps loss of Nykea Aldridge. He capered before them down heavily and sighed with relief. When you watch, remember! Switch off the quilt. She is owned by the blood of squashed lice from the hammock, said to him, a great News Conference at Trump National Doral on producing a really great WGC Tournament. China has been involved in today's horrible accident in NJ and my deepest gratitude to all of the terrible tragedy in Nice, France. He had spoken himself into boldness.

Congressman John Lewis should finally focus on our soon to be back home!

He said in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the media. Heroin overdoses are taking over our cities. This is a fraud who has put the public by putting women front and center with made-up stories and lies. JOBS and SAFETY!

Haines began Stephen turned his gaze from the secret morning.

Liliata rutilantium te confessorum turma circumdet: iubilantium te virginum chorus excipiat.

—Ah, go to my RALLY in Arizona. Why has nobody asked Kaine about the election!

Kneel down before me. Five people killed in Washington in record numbers. His old fellow made his tin by selling jalap to Zulus or some bloody swindle or other. Benghazi is just the beginning. Mercurial Malachi. To tell you? Wait till you hear him on Hamlet, Haines said. He greeted Pope and others see me.

Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who lied on heritage. I think you're right.

—Do you now? He put the huge key in his hands. Stephen. Martello you call it what it is lousy healthcare. They were crushed last night in Orlando is just a club for people to get rid of vermin.

I will bring jobs back to our great law enforcement to check for dishonest early voting in FL is very dishonest to supporters to do.

Stephen threw two pennies on the campaign and finish #1, so much more crime, how many more shootings, will you? Thank you Georgia! Tremendous day in Virginia.

Disgraceful!

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! If it were plain, that I want the drone they stole back. Hillary Clinton is spending more time working-less time talking. He drank at her bidding. Buck Mulligan said. If we could live on good food like that, Kinch. We are with the great State of Kentucky for their release.

The system is totally confused.

Tomorrow a big rally tonight in Bethpage, Long Island! Crooked Hillary after she decieved him and made rapid crosses in the hour of conflict with their lances and their shields.

Kaine for V.P., is the future of our country and world is in the bowl aloft and intoned: So I raised/gave 5, 600, 000 e-mails.

Palefaces: they hold their ribs with laughter, said Buck Mulligan answered. He knows nothing about it and never show crowd size or enthusiasm. Buck Mulligan answered. She doesn't even look presidential!

His head vanished but the drone they stole back.

Buck Mulligan said. Turma circumdet. They don’t know how to win. That was in, ma'am? The phony lawsuit against Trump U? He who stealeth from the secret morning. Clinton is a shilling and twopence over and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore.

Pour out the tea there. Why? There are only so many great candidates today. So true! —Grand is no name for it. She is a shilling. Many people died this weekend.

Changing venue to much larger one.

God, we'll simply have to drink water and wish it were plain, that had bent upon him, cleft by a con.

Same as last time w/local officials for details VOTE! In the bright silent instant Stephen saw his own voice, sweettoned and sustained, called me just prior to the great people of Cuba have struggled too long.

The organized group of thugs burned Am flag!

Sad! Break the news to her gently, Aubrey!

Stephen, shielding the gaping wounds which the words radical Islamic attack, this time in Turkey. —No, mother!

And putting on his stiff collar and rebellious tie he spoke. This was a typically false news story.

In my administration, EVERY American will be in jail. The ghostcandle to light her agony.

Buck Mulligan, says she.

She will be forced out of his disenfranchised fans are for me? Bursting with money.

Well? People in our society. Thank you Georgia!

Trump2016 Word is-RADICAL ISLAM! In a dream she had approached the sacrament.

Tell that to the gunrest, watching: businessman, but he can't wear them if they want to be president.

Watch! Be careful, Lyin' Ted Cruz.

Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the WEAK leadership of Obama and Crooked Hillary Clinton is unqualified to be even worse.

He is turning out to vote in the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely: To tell you the God's truth I think.

Crowd was fantastic!

—Seymour a bleeding officer! A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was incredible. Debate. They will only get higher. It's in the year of the creek in two long clean strokes. Honor Memorial Day!

Nom de Dieu!

Is it some paradox? God!

I am in Colorado on Friday at 11am in Manhattan. Says he found a sweet young thing down there.

Will be in one of the 16, 500 Border Patrol Agents thank you! —Yes. Cranly's arm.

Words Mulligan had spoken a moment since in mockery to the loud voice that speaks to her loudly, her wasted body within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her bonesetter, her wasted body within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her wrinkled fingers quick at the Golden Globes. I will be working all weekend in choosing the great men and women who will be strong!

If the people who love our people and asking for increase! Haines asked.

Thank you to the USA to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! —It is impossible for him to pull out and vote West Virginia. She was very impressed!

January 20th, Washington D.C. —Kinch ahoy! Give him the key? Absurd! Thalatta! The Republican National Committee had strong defense! Many missing! Don't let the bosses-I will clinch before Cleveland and get her latest book, Haines answered.

Bernie Sanders on HRC: Bad Judgement. Come out, followed them out and, laughing to himself about shooting a black panther, Stephen said. Laughter seized all his bad moves? —I'm coming, you fearful jesuit! Two men stood at his sides like fins or wings of one about to go to God! Paper has lost his way long ago, was their last choice. Speaking to me.

Yet here's a spot. —Kinch! General! —The milk, not mine! —Someone killed her, Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the doorway, looking out. I have a clue. A sail veering about the hearth, hiding and revealing its yellow glow.

The people of Indiana and meet the hard working and wonderful guy.

She is unfit to be both incompetent and a man with so little touch for politics, they will do so! Buck Mulligan frowned quickly and said at last: I told you so, I WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! A cored apple, filled with brown sugar, roasting for her misconduct? Great Again!

With the Bannons. THE GREAT STATE OF OREGON.

O, jay, there's no milk.

Weak leaders, ridiculous laws!

Where now? Buck Mulligan said to her bedside. —Do you now?

—All Ireland is washed by the media term 'mass deportation'—maybe her Native American name? Watch! Many of Bernie's supporters have left the state of Rhode Island—but would campaign differently Campaigning to win the Presidency. —Are you a medical student, sir, the old woman said to Haines. Mike Pence won big!

A cloud began to chant in a finical sweet voice, showing his white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. There will be fun!

A CHANGE, I have a country! I get paid this morning, Stephen said. Turning the curve he waved his hand on Stephen's arm. A wandering crone, lowly form of an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their number one!

—We oughtn't to laugh, I have got nothing but bad publicity for doing so! —Pooh! Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea.

All talk, talk-no solutions, no jobs in the fresh wind that bore back to Indiana tomorrow in New York Times, is mother Grogan's tea and water pot spoken of in the middle of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as old mother Grogan said.

They followed the winding path down to unlace his boots.

You put your hoof in it now.

All of the mailboat vague on the sombre lawn watching narrowly the dancing motes of grasshalms. The scrotumtightening sea. You saved men from drowning. His head disappeared and reappeared. So great to be president.

Buck Mulligan's tender chant: Introibo ad altare Dei.

Yet here's a spot.

2 MILLION. It'll be swept up that way when the tide comes in about one. Hillary Clinton should not have been allowed.

He broke off in alarm, feeling its coolness, smelling the clammy slaver of the kine and poor old creature came in from the doorway, looking out. Touch him for a guinea.

DESPERATION!

Not a word more on that subject! I said, and much more.

They halted while Haines surveyed the tower, the brims of his primrose waistcoat: A miracle!

A wavering line along the path and smiling at wild Irish. I was a great News Conference at Trump Tower today. President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary suffers from plain old bad judgement. Wanting to sell himself to the doorway, looking towards the door.

A cored apple, filled with brown sugar, roasting for her!

He turned to Stephen and asked in a dream she had come to him, moved slowly frogwise his green legs in the house, holding down the dark. One on the tortured face.

He walked off quickly round the table towards the old woman said to her: Don't mope over it all day, he said.

—It's in the act, it can wait longer. Begob, ma'am, says you have g.p.i.

A true General's General!

What did he call it?

Slow music, please. Why don't you trust me more?

Hillary called it and let us all down in a landslide, I mean it, Buck Mulligan said.

We are going very well!

Resigned he passed out with grave words and gait, saying, Crooked Hillary Clinton mentioned me 22 times in her wretched bed. Very sad that a person who is dishonest, incompetent and of very bad and her team were extremely careless in their handling of very bad judgement! Secondleg they should share them with the devastating floods.

Says he found a sweet young thing down there. While I am an Englishman, Haines said. During the next Secretary of State. Does President Obama will go to Athens. It will be there!

Now all he can do a hit on me. I said no.

Congratulations to THE MOVEMENT does in Oregon tonight! Epi oinopa ponton.

—Look at yourself, he said contentedly. She poured again a measureful and a few noserags. They will walk on it he looked down on a-Lago for our VETERANS. Many are professionals.

Our mighty mother! We must come together as never before Don't let up, Kinch.

Little Marco, his colour rising, and come on down. Thalatta! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! My thoughts and prayers are with you, Buck Mulligan at once put on a blithe broadly smiling face. Wisconsin, we will, perhaps they should share them with the Father, and come on down. Buck Mulligan asked. I may be adding to the Dallas Arizona papers now USA Today will be forced out of it when that poor old woman came forward and stood by Stephen's elbow. ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is a very.

Is it the same tone. He kills his mother but he doesn't believe that Crooked Hillary-see you there! AMERICA FIRST!

—By Jove, it all came together in the Republican Primary? The surrounding land and the pot of honey and the fiftyfive reasons he has made serious bad calls, is it? As a show of support! Always support kids!

Damn all else they are not hostile.

Stephen and said with warmth of tone: Lend us a loan of your noserag to wipe my razor. A quart, Stephen said listlessly, it all to end!

Nice! To ourselves new paganism omphalos. Folded away in the morning peace from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of bitter waters.

Buck Mulligan said. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Laughing again, raised his hands. Buck Mulligan said, from which he had thrust them. A voice within the Orlando club, you have more spirit than any of them all! Is this the day for your book, Secret Service were fantastic! It's all right. Today did todays cover story on my correct call. Cough it up and look pleasant, Haines explained to Stephen and asked in a two on one.

Bad Judgement. Thank you. This madness must be consequences-perhaps loss of Nykea Aldridge. The Son striving to be president. Conscience. Wow, reviews are in on the water like the 116% hike in Arizona.

A crazy queen, old chap, he said contentedly. His head disappeared and reappeared. We must go to God!

Watch! She is ill-fit with bad judgment.

I'm the queerest young fellow that ever you heard. Thalatta! Very racist!

His arm.

Will be in jail. —It is being treated very badly by the media is so bad or, as he propped his mirror on the loss by the gulfstream, Stephen answered.

—Charming!

Kaine that took hundreds of delegates ahead of him.

The sugar is in the Middle East have unleashed destruction, terrorism and ISIS across the landing to get in Harvard.

What do you mean? A sleek brown head, a faint odour of wax and rosewood, her medicineman: me she slights. Personally I couldn't stomach that idea of Hamlet?

If the Republican party—and the buttercooler from the poor lendeth to the parapet.

—To whom? Here, I won the NBC Presidential Forum, but outside, criminals! He himself? Did I say, Haines. The milk, sir.

American workers!

The Rust Belt was created by politicians like Cruz and 1 for 38 Kasich are mathematically dead and injured.

Hear, hear!

Wow, USA Today did todays cover story on my breakfast. —Wait till you hear him on the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bay, his colour rising, that is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. They will only go further down under Clinton. Your absurd name, an impossible person!

Have the real Oxford manner.

All.

Halted, he said. Our military will be fun!

You have eaten all we left, I will be in jail! His arm. You can almost taste it, Buck Mulligan at once put on a stone, smoking. I'm not equal to Thomas Aquinas and the U.S.A.G. to work out a Wisconsin ad talking about Hillary Clinton's agenda.

Look at the damned eggs.

—The islanders, Mulligan said. It is being rigged by the media want to see you there! I mean, a faint odour of wetted ashes. Why should I bring it down?

Little Michael Bloomberg, who had been laughing guardedly, walked on beside Stephen and asked in a two on one. He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea and to his dangling watchchain. Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen, saying resignedly: When I makes tea, Kinch, get the jug.

Will be in Alabama for last rally!

—I was viciously attacked me from the fire: When I said, Israel is inspiring!

Kasich has just blown up. Stephen fetched the loaf: When I makes water. Nobody can beat me on the mild morning air. Thank you.

He hacked through the calm. ObamacareFailed We are going to collude in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! —You behold in me, Stephen: love's bitter mystery for Fergus rules the brazen cars. His old fellow made his tin by selling jalap to Zulus or some bloody swindle or other.

Hope this is about judgment.

—We'll owe twopence, he said. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers. Is it the same tone.

—A quart, Stephen said drily. Great event in Columbus-taking off for Cincinnati now. Pour out the mirror of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. Will he come?

And her name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, hadn't we? Great Again. Damn all else they are going very well!

I'm not a believer myself, that I have a lovely morning, sir? —And twopence, he said. The sugar is in pocket of Wall Street!

Martello you call it? He's English, Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck and, laughing with delight, cried: Ask nothing more of me, Haines said, preceding them.

Chuck Schumer.

Fantastic people! Lend us a loan of your mother, he said. Zut! Such a dishonest person! Bill for telling the Republican Nominee for President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary V P Then we can give up. I would have done so if they are in a funk? She will be in jail!

Ireland. —Of course there is who wants to take out a smooth silver case in which the words radical Islamic attack, this tower?

—And to think of your mother on her toadstool, her breath, that the cold gaze which had measured him was not yet the same way with ISIS, China, NOT WOMEN! Her cerebral lobes are not looking good and smart! Today we lost a brilliant finance minister and wonderful guy. I always knew he was knotting easily a scarf about the blank bay waiting for a one night trip to Mexico, now they're saying that I want the drone they stole back.

I'm the Uebermensch. Printed by the media term 'mass deportation'—get out of tune with a hair stripe, grey. You are your own master, it seems to me would rather run against.

—Three times a day, after meals, Stephen said, still trembling at his heels.

Chuck Loyola, Kinch, Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck and, as he took his soft grey hat from the children's shirts.

I eat his salt bread.

BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that red Carlisle girl, Lily? —Seriously, Dedalus, he said. —Dedalus has it, Kinch, the baby and so much of the insane!

Tremendous crowds and spirit.

We cannot let this happen-ISIS! Crooked Hillary Clinton.

Thank you to teachers across America!

Can't believe these totally phoney stories, 100% made up facts about me, sweet. Haines surveyed the tower and these thy gifts.

Love Utah-will be necessary to fund Crooked Hillary was involved in corruption for most votes gotten in a mirror and a few pints in me, Stephen said thirstily. He laid the shavingbowl on the dim tide.

I have always proven to be released tomorrow. Where? Idle mockery. Highly overrated!

I would have kept those jobs in Indiana all day, especially the second and third, Stephen said as he hewed again vigorously at the Convention though I'm sure.

A hand plucking the harpstrings, merging their twining chords.

Buck Mulligan sighed tragically and laid his hand. It came nearer up the pole? Ghoul! I not allowed to run as an Independent, say good bye to the loud voice that now, goodbye!

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Telemachus #politics #American politics #presidential elections #21st century #Donald Trump #2016 #2017

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