#Rabbi Alexander David Goode

[dudewayspecialfarewell]

When Tomorrow Starts Without Me When tomorrow starts without me, And I’m not there to see, If the sun should rise and find your eyes All filled with tears for me; I wish so much you wouldn’t cry The way you did today, While thinking of the many things, We didn’t get to say. I know how much you love, me, As much as I love you, And each time you think of me, I know you’ll miss me too; But when tomorrow starts without me, Please try to understand, That an angel came and called my name, And took me by the hand, And said my place was ready, In heaven far above And that I’d have to leave behind All those I dearly love. But as I turned to walk away, A tear fell from my eye For all my life, I’d always thought, I didn’t want to die. I had so much to live for, So much left yet to do, It seemed almost impossible, That I was leaving you. I thought of all the yesterdays, The good ones and the bad, The thought of all the love we shared, And all the fun we had. If I could relive yesterday Just even for a while, I’d say good-bye and kiss you And maybe see you smile. I:\Rabbi\Sermons High Holiday\2013 High Holiday Sermons\When Tomorrow Starts Without Me - Yizkor Poem 091413.docx But then I fully realized That this could never be, For emptiness and memories, Would take the place of me. And when I thought of worldly things I might miss come tomorrow, I thought of you, and when I did My heart was filled with sorrow. But when I walked through heaven’s gates I felt so much at home When God looked down and smiled at me, From His great golden throne. He said, “This is eternity, And all I’ve promised you. Today your life on earth is past But here it starts anew. I promise no tomorrow, But today will always last, And since each day’s the same way, There’s no longing for the past. You have been so faithful, So trusting and so true. Though there were times You did some things You knew you shouldn’t do. But you have been forgiven And now at last you’re free. So won’t you come and take my hand And share my life with me?” So when tomorrow starts without me, Don’t think we’re far apart, For every time you think of me, I’m right here, in your heart. David M. Romano 1993 From the book, Proof of Heaven By Eben Alexander, MD pp. 165 - 168

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Today in Christian History

Today is Friday, February 3rd, the 34th day of 2023. There are 331 days left in the year.

Today’s Highlight in History:

865: (traditional date) Death in Germany of Anskar, an early English or Irish missionary who had tried repeatedly to evangelize Scandinavia.

1238: Mongols surround the city of Vladimir, whose citizens, including Orthodox Christians, vow to resist to the last man to defend God’s churches. The city will fall on the fourteenth of that same month.

1399: Death in London of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, whose political struggles with powerful prelates led him to support the religious reformer John Wycliffe.

1469: Death in Mainz, Germany, of Johannes Gutenberg, a developer of movable type, which will become a powerful factor in the spread of the Protestant Reformation.

1738: John Wesley arrives in London, having fled the colony of Georgia, where his ministry had been a serious failure.

1767: The British House of Lords rules against the Corporation of London which, to raise money, had established heavy fines for anyone refusing to stand for office if nominated, and then nominated many dissenters, knowing that they could not take the oath required under the Test Act.

1788: Richard Johnson, first Christian cleric appointed to Australia, preaches his first sermon in that country.

1832: Death in Trowbridge, Wiltshire, England, of George Crabbe, a Church of England vicar and notable poet.

1943: The Allied troopship S.S. Dorchester is torpedoed by a German sub near Greenland and goes down with a loss of 600 lives. The event is notable for the selflessness of four chaplains, Rev. Clark Poling (Dutch Reformed), Rev. George Lansing Fox (Methodist), Father John Washington (a Catholic priest) and Alexander David Goode (a Jewish rabbi), who gave up their lifejackets to save other men.

1985: Desmond Tutu of South Africa becomes Johannesburg’s first black Anglican bishop.

1998: Execution in Texas of Karla Faye Tucker, a murderess, who converted to Christianity on death row and died praising Jesus. Movies and documentaries will be made about her life.

2005: The Islamic city council of Demre, Turkey (formerly the Christian city, Myra), votes to replace the town’s traditional bronze statue of St. Nicholas of Myra with an effigy of a fat man with a red fur suit.

[jomiddlemarch]

Long before the springtime is due

Part II

“What’s it going to take for you to share already, Alina?” Nina asked. She was sitting cross-legged on Genevieve’s bed, her hair up in rollers and tied with a scarf, even though she was going to spend the next day, just like the day before and the day after, surrounded only by women who wouldn’t mind if her hair was stick straight or if her Victory roll was lumpy. Nina believed in standards, even if they were living in a barracks converted from a girls’ academy, their days and nights as tightly regulated as those of a bunch of novices at a convent, of which she had a decent working knowledge since her three older sisters had all become nuns leaving her as the scapegrace or black sheep, depending on the severity of her latest transgression.

“Share what? Aunt Anna hasn’t sent a care package lately and you said her cookies weren’t sweet enough anyway,” Alina replied.

“Not cookies, you goose,” Zoë said, filing her nails. She was always exquisitely turned out and at the moment, could give Hedy Lamarr a run for her money in any boudoir pin-up shot. Alina preferred her own cozy flannel bathrobe to Zoë’s silk and maribou-trimmed peignoir but couldn’t deny that the pale blue rosebud-sprigged flannel Aunt Anna had sewed for her lent itself more readily to the goose moniker.

“Then what?”

“Your letters,” Genevieve said from her own bed. She was knitting an extremely complicated Fair Isle sweater because she’d been told since she was a child that idle hands were the Devil’s workshop and if she couldn’t be idle, she’d at the very least make something she wanted. The sound of the needles had become part of Alina’s evenings, like the rattle of the pipes or Nina’s faint cursing when she was told by somebody to turn that darn radio off already!

“My letters?” Alina said. “I don’t understand—”

“Your letters from Alexander,” Inez said in her usual gentle tone.

“You want me to share my letters from Alexander?” Alina asked. “I don’t see—”

“He’s the only one who can write a love letter worth a damn,” Nina said. “You have to see that at least.”

“Nick wrote me two pages, front and back, about his unit’s running poker game,” Zoë said. “Including a tally of what everyone owes him even though they only bet with Lucky Strikes. I didn’t even get one endearment, one measly sweetheart or darling. Just a lot of nonsense about how Ernie can’t bluff worth a damn.”

“I never expect much from Matthias,” Nina offered. “His father was a pastor and his uncles are pastors and he was planning to go to seminary when Pearl happened, but he begins every single letter asking after my parents’ health and ends them telling me he’s praying for me and may God keep me and comfort me. I want someone keeping and comforting me and it’s not God, the Son or the goddamn Holy Ghost!”

“Nina!” Inez exclaimed.

“Sorry, honey, but it’s the truth and lying’s a sin, isn’t it?” Nina said. “And aren’t we doing enough by telling everyone we’re secretaries instead of cryptanalysts? We might as well be honest with each other and I’m only being honest saying Matthias’s letters could have come just as easily from my Great-Aunt Bertha!”

“Genevieve? Et tu, Brute?” Alina asked.

“You know David’s an engineer and I think he’s doing something like we are for his unit, something he can’t talk about, so he writes to me about inventions he has in mind for a modern kitchen,” Genevieve said. “The last one was all about a can opener. He tries to work in quotations, but all he knows is Rabbie Burns and I’ve stopped thrilling at being told I’m like a red, red rose. Sorry, Alina, I’m with the rest of the girls on this one—”

“Kasimierz’s English isn’t very good and my Polish is worse,” Inez chimed in. Alina would have considered her a traitor, except Inez sounded so apologetic as well as a little embarrassed, though Alina had told her repeatedly she was the best of them without making much headway. “His letters are so short and he doesn’t write many of them. He’s flying all the time, but even still, he’s only sent a couple. He sent me a little drawing of a cottage in the last one and I think he means it might be for us, but I don’t know for sure.”

“So, you want me to read you Alexander’s letters,” Alina said. “All of you.”

“Only the good parts,” Nina said, grinning.

“You terrify me, Nina. What does that even mean, the good parts?” Alina said, feeling the beginning of a blush on her cheeks.

“You know they censor the letters from the men overseas, don’t you?” Zoë said. “We wouldn’t be the only ones besides you and Alexander to read them. And he has to know the censor is reading them too, before you even do. Us reading them after you do is small potatoes, in the grand scheme of things.”

“I mean the romantic parts,” Nina said. “You can collectively get your minds out of the gutter. I don’t only embrace my, shall we say, carnal appetites. I just don’t pretend I don’t have them.”

“Not going on and on about it doesn’t mean the rest of us are pretending,” Zoë said. “Just that we have some decorum.”

“You’re one to talk about decorum,” Nina retorted. “You almost got caught coming back well beyond tipsy from a date with that man you said was your brother’s friend. You don’t even have a brother!”

“I almost got caught. Emphasis on almost,” Zoë said, smirking.

“This is my fault,” Inez said, surprising Alina but evidently not any of the other women. “I saw one of Alexander’s letters in your handbag, when I asked to borrow some hairpins. I didn’t mean to, but I’d read a few lines before I realized what it was. And then I mentioned it to Nina. It was just so beautiful, Alina—I didn’t intend to pry but when he wrote you were dearer to him than the sun was dear to the dawn, I couldn’t forget it, and how he signed it yours in every way, every moment, breath and bone and blood, oh, Alina—”

“Like we said, he’s the only one who can write worth a damn,” Nina said. “And damn, that man can write. He’s easy on the eyes too, based on that photo you showed us, but he could look like a gargoyle for all I care…”

“If you really don’t want to, we’ll understand,” Genevieve said. “It’s only that your Alexander says things any woman dreams of hearing and our men are so far away and maybe they’re not all going to come home, no matter what we do here…it’s vicarious, we know that, but he says what we wish they’d all say.”

Alina looked at the women in the room. Their faces were all so different and yet they shared an expression, a mute longing and the insidious, ever-present fear that any woman had when the man she loved was far away and might never return, an anticipated grief they couldn’t dare to voice, these brilliant, rational cryptanalysts, because it might make it reality. She thought of Alexander’s letters, neatly folded and tucked away safely in her strapped suitcase, tied with a silk ribbon he’d once pulled from her hair. She tried to decide what she could bear to reveal, endearments far more intimate than what little Inez had read, his praise and his yearning for her, his own words interwoven with exquisite care amid quotations from other poets, Alexander vulnerable and tender, ardent, candid, hers alone. It wasn’t that he would ever know but that she would. That she would see it in her friends’ eyes, just as if they’d caught Alexander embracing her, taking in his hands on her face, at her waist and her throat, his tie unknotted, collar loosened, Alina’s lips reddened from his kisses, and having caught them, waited for a long moment before shutting the door silently. If she shook her head no, Nina would not tease any more, nor Zoë coax, Inez would drop her eyes and Genevieve would nod slightly, and they’d talk about playing bridge or whether they might out together a picnic for Sunday afternoon and never ask about the letters again. If Alexander never came back, she would be even more alone than she needed to be.

Alina got up, walked to the closet, and brought back the page she already had by heart. She looked down as if she were reading it, letting her eyes look at the words again as if for the first time.

“…I lie to the other men every day, my dearest, to the men who are my brothers, who stand beside me and fight and who are going through hell with me and yet they’re not, because I don’t tell them the truth. At night, when it’s finally, terribly quiet, they talk about what they miss the most and when they ask me, I say a hot bath, a steak dinner, going to a ball game on a summer night in June—I don’t tell them it’s you I want, you sitting beside me laughing as the batter strikes out, you in the candlelight at the table, you as I’ve never seen you, fresh from your bath, your cheeks rosy, your dark hair pinned up and the sash of your robe barely tied. I lie to them, even though I know it might be the last thing I say, and I tell the truth only here, only to you, even though I know it might be the last thing I write…”

“God,” Nina breathed. “I’m melting. A puddle. What would he write without a censor reading?”

“We’d never know,” Genevieve said. The knitting needles, which had been silent, resumed their soft clicking.

“Because Alina wouldn’t tell?” Zoë offered.

“Because the paper would go up in flames,” Inez said. Genevieve nodded and Alina smiled, the one Alexander called her Mona Lisa before trying to steal a kiss. He’d never succeeded, because she always reached for him first, offering freely what he didn’t need to take.

Partly inspired by this photo by Nina Leen.

[divinum-pacis]

Divinum Pacis’s  Reference Guide- UPDATED 2021

Let’s face it, schooling is expensive, and you can’t cram everything you want to know into 4+ years. It takes a lifetime (and then some). So if you’re like me and want to learn more, here’s an organized list of some books I find particularly insightful and enjoyable. NEW ADDITIONS are listed first under their respective sections. If you have any recommendations, send them in!

African Religions  🌍

African Myths & Tales: Epic Tales by Dr. Kwadwo Osei-Nyame Jnr

The Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead: Prayers, Incantations, and Other Texts from the Book of the Dead by E.A. Wallis Budge

Prayer in the Religious Traditions of Africa by Aylward Shorter (a bit dated but sentimental)

The Holy Piby: The Black Man’s Bible by Shepherd Robert Athlyi Rogers

The Altar of My Soul: The Living Traditions of Santeria by Marta Moreno Vega (autobiography of an Afro-Puerto Rican Santeria priestess)

African Religions: A Very Short Introduction by Jacob K. Olupona

Buddhism ☸

The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching: Transforming Suffering into Peace, Joy, and Liberation by Thich Nhat Hanh

The Dhammapada by Eknath Easwaran (collection of Buddha’s sayings)

Liquid Life: Abortion and Buddhism in Japan by William R. LaFleur 

The Tibetan Book of the Dead by John Baldock (the texts explained and illustrated)

Teachings of the Buddha by Jack Kornfield (lovely selection of Buddhist verses and stories)

Understanding Buddhism by Perry Schmidt-Leukel (great introductory text)

Essential Tibetan Buddhism by Robert Thurman (collection of select chants, prayers, and rituals in Tibetan traditions)

Christianity ✝️

The Story of Christianity Volume 1: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation by Justo L. Gonzales

The Story of Christianity Volume 2: The Reformation to Present Day by Justo L. Gonzales

By Heart: Conversations with Martin Luther's Small Catechism by R. Guy Erwin, etc.

Introducing the New Testament by Mark Allen Powell

Who’s Who in the Bible by Jean-Pierre Isbouts (really cool book, thick with history, both Biblical and otherwise)

Synopsis of the Four Gospels (RSV) by Kurt Aland (shows the four NT gospels side by side, verse by verse for easy textual comparison)

Behold Your Mother by Tim Staples (Catholic approach to the Virgin Mary)

Mother of God: A History of the Virgin Mary by Miri Rubin (anthropological and historical text)

Systematic Theology by Thomas P. Rausch

Orthodox Dogmatic Theology by Fr. Michael Romazansky (Eastern Orthodox Christianity)

Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska (very spiritual)

The Names of God by George W. Knight (goes through every name and reference to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in the Bible)

Icons and Saints of the Eastern Orthodox Church by Alfredo Tradigo (for those who like art history AND religion)

The Orthodox Veneration of the Mother of God by St. John Maximovitch (the Orthodox approach to the Virgin Mary)

East Asian Religions  ☯️

Shinto: A History by Helen Hardacre

Tao Te Ching by Chad Hansen (a beautiful, illustrated translation)

The Analects by Confucius

Tao Te Ching by Stephen Mitchell

Shinto: The Kami Way by Sokyo Ono (introductory text)

Understanding Chinese Religions by Joachim Gentz (discusses the history and development of Taoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism in China)

Taoism: An Essential Guide by Eva Wong (pretty much everything you need to know on Taoism)

European (various)

Iliad & Odyssey by Homer, Samuel Butler, et al.

Tales of King Arthur & The Knights of the Round Table by Thomas Malory, Aubrey Beardsley, et al.

Early Irish Myths and Sagas by Jeffrey Gantz

The Prose Edda: Norse Mythology by Snorri Sturluson and Jesse L. Byock

Mythology by Edith Hamilton (covers Greek, Roman, & Norse mythology)

The Nature of the Gods by Cicero

Dictionary of Mythology by Bergen Evans

Gnosticism, Mysticism, & Esotericism

The Gnostic Gospels: Including the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Mary Magdalene (Sacred Texts) by Alan Jacobs and Vrej Nersessian

The Kybalion by the Three Initiates (Hermeticism)

The Freemasons: The Ancient Brotherhood Revealed by Michael Johnstone 

Alchemy & Mysticism by Alexander Roob (Art and symbolism in Hermeticism)

The Gnostics: Myth, Ritual, and Diversity in Early Christianity by David Brakke

What Is Gnosticism? Revised Edition by Karen L. King

The Essence of the Gnostics by Bernard Simon

The Essential Mystics: Selections from the World’s Great Wisdom Traditions by Andrew Harvey (covers Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Greek, Hindu, Buddhist, and Taoist traditions)

The Secret Teachings of All Ages by Manly P. Hall (huge book on esoteric and occult religions)

Freemasonry for Dummies by Christopher Hodapp

Hinduism 🕉

The Ramayana by R.K. Narayan

7 Secrets of Vishnu by Devdutt Pattanaik (all about Vishnu’s various avatars)

7 Secrets of the Goddess by Devdutt Pattanaik (all about Hindu goddesses, myths and symbolism)

Hinduism by Klaus K. Klostermaier (good introductory text)

Bhagavad Gita As It Is by Srila Prabhupada (trans. from a religious standpoint)

The Mahabharata, parts 1 & 2 by Ramesh Menon (super long but incredibly comprehensive)

The Upanishads by Juan Mascaro (an excellent introductory translation)

In Praise of the Goddess by Devadatta Kali (the Devi Mahatmya with English & Sanskrit texts/explanations of texts)

Beyond Birth and Death by Srila Prabhupada (on death & reincarnation)

The Science of Self-Realization by Srila Prabhupada

Krishna: The Beautiful Legend of God (Srimad Bhagavatam) by Edwin F. Bryant (totally gorgeous translation)

The Perfection of Yoga by Srila Prabhupada (about “actual” yoga)

Islam  ☪️

The Handy Islam Answer Book by John Renard (a comprehensive guide to all your questions)

The Illustrated Rumi by Philip Dunn, Manuela Dunn Mascetti, & R.A. Nicholson (Sufi poetry)

Islam and the Muslim World by Mir Zohair Husain (general history of Islam)

The Quran: A Contemporary Understanding by Safi Kaskas (Quran with Biblical references in the footnotes for comparison)

Essential Sufism by Fadiman & Frager (select Sufi texts)

Psychological Foundation of the Quran, parts 1, 2, & 3 by Muhammad Shoaib Shahid

Hadith by Jonathan A.C. Brown (the history of Hadith and Islam)

The Story of the Quran, 2nd ed. by Ingrid Mattson (history and development of the Quran)

The Book of Hadith by Charles Le Gai Eaton (a small selection of Hadith)

The Holy Quran by Maulana Muhammad Ali (Arabic to English translation, the only translation I’ve read cover-to-cover)

Mary and Jesus in the Quran by Abdullah Yusuf’Ali

Blessed Names and Attributes of Allah by A.R. Kidwai (small, lovely book)

Jainism & Sikhi

Understanding Jainism by Lawrence A. Babb

The Jains (The Library of Religious Beliefs and Practices) by Paul Dundas

The Forest of Thieves and the Magic Garden: An Anthology of Medieval Jain Stories by Phyllis Granoff

A History of the Sikhs, Volume 1: 1469-1839 (Oxford India Collection) by Khushwant Singh

Sikhism: A Very Short Introduction by Eleanor Nesbitt

Judaism  ✡

Hebrew-English Tanakh by the Jewish Publication Society

Essential Judaism by George Robinson (this is THE book if you’re looking to learn about Judaism)

The Talmud: A Selection by Norman Solomon

Judaism by Dan & Lavinia Cohn-Sherbok (introductory text)

The Jewish Study Bible, 2nd edition by the Jewish Publication Society (great explanations of passages)

The Hebrew Goddess by Raphael Patai

Native American

God is Red: A Native View of Religion, 30th Anniversary Edition by Vine Deloria Jr. , Leslie Silko, et al. 

The Wind is My Mother by Bear Heart (Native American spirituality)

American Indian Myths and Legends by Erdoes & Ortiz

The Sacred Wisdom of the Native Americans by Larry J. Zimmerman 

Paganism, Witchcraft & Wicca

Magic in the Roman World: Pagans, Jews and Christians (Religion in the First Christian Centuries) 1st Edition by Naomi Janowitz

The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation: Including the Demotic Spells: 2nd Edition by Hans Dieter Betz

Wicca for Beginners: Fundamentals of Philosophy & Practice by Thea Sabin

The Path of a Christian Witch by Adelina St. Clair (the author’s personal journey)

Aradia: Gospel of the Witches by C.G. Leland

The Anthropology of Religion, Magic, & Witchcraft, 3rd ed. by Rebecca L. Stein

Paganism: An Introduction to Earth-Centered Religions by Joyce & River Higginbotham

Christopaganism by Joyce & River Higginbotham

Whispers of Stone by Tess Dawson (on Modern Canaanite Paganism)

Social ☮

Tears We Cannot Stop (A Sermon to White America) by Eric Michael Dyson (concerning racism)

Comparative Religious Ethics by Christine E. Gudorf 

Divided by Faith by Michael O. Emerson (on racism and Christianity in America)

Problems of Religious Diversity by Paul J. Griffiths

Not in God’s Name by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (on religious terrorism)

The Sacred and the Profane by Mircea Eliade (difficult but worthwhile read)

World Religions  🗺

Understanding World Religions by Len Woods (approaches world religions from a Biblical perspective)

Living Religions, 9th ed. by Mary Pat Fisher (introductory textbook)

The Norton Anthology of World Religions: Hinduism, Buddhism & Daoism by Jack Miles, etc.

The Norton Anthology of World Religions: Judaism, Christianity, & Islam by Jack Miles, etc.

Zoroastrians: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices by Mary Boyce

The Baha’i Faith by Moojan Momen (introductory text)

Saints: The Chosen Few by Manuela Dunn-Mascetti (illustrated; covers saints from Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and more)

The Great Transformation by Karen Armstrong (the evolutionary history of some of the world’s greatest religions)

Roman Catholics and Shi’i Muslims: Prayer, Passion, and Politics by James A. Bill (a comparison of the similarities between Catholicism & Shi’a Islam)

God: A Human History by Reza Aslan (discusses the evolution of religion, specifically Abrahamic and ancient Middle Eastern traditions)

A History of God by Karen Armstrong (similar to Aslan’s book but much more extensive)

The Perennial Dictionary of World Religions by Keith Crim

[eleonoregustafsson]

Böcker jag läst 2016-2019

På den här bloggen har jag varje år lagt ut en lista på alla böcker jag läst ut från pärm till pärm under året som gått. Men 2016 blev det inte av, inte heller 2017 eller 2018. Framförallt för att listan inte kändes representativ. Under dessa år har olika jobbprojekt gjort att jag behövt ägna mig åt research där jag tvingats läsa utvalda delar i olika böcker istället för enskild bok i sin helhet. Under 2016-2017 läste jag t.ex. mycket om anabaptismen, men det är inget som märks i listan. Men nu har jag ändå bestämt mig för att lägga ut den. Kolla gärna in taggen #aureliaguläser på Instagram, där lägger jag ibland ut boktips och små recensioner (och där syns även de böcker jag inte läst från pärm till pärm utan bara utvalda delar). 

2019: 40 böcker

Böcker om Bibeln Sitting at the feet of Rabbi Jesus av Ann Spangler och Lois Tverberg A Life that’s good av Glenn Pemberton (om Ordspråksboken) Phoebe – a Story av Paula Gooder Hebrews av Mary Healy Priscilla av Ben Witherington III The Torah’s Vision of Worship av Samuel E. Balentine Reading Backwards av Richard B Hays

 Kristen ledarskapslitteratur If You Love Me av Matthw The Poor (på arabiska Matta-Al-Miskin) A Pastoral Rule for Today av Burgess, Andrews & Small

 Kristen uppbyggelselitteratur The Arena av Ignatius Brianchaninov How to be a Sinner av Peter Bouteneff 

Teologisk litteratur Paradiset åter av Tomas Einarsson Journyes of the Muslim Nation and the Christian Church av David W Shenk 

Kyrkohistoria The Patient Ferment of the Early Church av Alan Kreider 

Reportageböcker och dylikt Med Guds hjälp av Gabriel Byström Skärmhjärna av Anders Hansen Bön för Tjernobyl av Svetlana Aleksijevitj En piga bland pigor av Esther Blenda Nordström Tidens second hand av Svetlana Aleksijevitj A Time to Die av Nicolas Diat

 Romaner Beckomberga av Sara Stridsberg Bränn alla mina brev av Alex Schulman De kommer drunkna i sina mödrars tårar av Johannes Anyuru Vända hem av Yaa Gyasin Din stund på jorden av Vilhelm Moberg Den svalgula himlen av Kjell Westö Längtans flöde av Alva Dahl Pappaklausulen av Jonas Hassen Khemiri Sveas son av Lena Andersson Arv och miljö av Vigdis Hjort En dag i Ivan Deniosovitjs liv av Alexander Solsjenitsyn Konturer av Rachel Cusk Testamente av Nina Wähä Jag for ner till bror av Karin Smirnoff

 Biografier och självbiografisk litteratur Utan nåd – en rannsakan av Fredrik Virtanen Allt jag fått lära mig av Tara Westover Konsten att feja arabiska av Lina Liman Löparens hjärta av Markus Torgeby Vilket jävla solsken av Fatima Bremer En bokhandlares dagbok av Shaun Bythel

2018: 28 böcker

Romaner Never let me go av Kauzo Ishiguro Min kamp 3 av Karl-Ove Knausgård Mitt liv och ditt av Majgull Axelsson Min kamp 4 av Karl-Ove Knausgård Min kamp 5 av Karl-Ove Knausgård Min kamp 6 av Karl-Ove Knausgård Sågspån och led av Vibecke Olsson Amerikauret av Vibecke Olsson Själasörjaren av Christine Falkenland

 Kristen uppbyggelselitteratur Helig rot av Peter Halldorf (för 3e gången?) Hädanefter blir vägen väglös av Peter Halldorf  (för 4e gången?) Bottenkänning av Fredrik Lignell Through, with and in him av Shane Kapler 

Teologisk litteratur Välkomna varandra av red. Tomas Poletti Lundström 

Böcker om Bibeln Korsets mysterium av Agne Nordlander 

Kyrkohistoria The Forgotten Desert Mothers av Laura Swan Biskop Lewi Pethrus av Joel Halldof

 Självbiografisk litteratur Sorgens gåva är en vidgad blick av Patrik Hagman När livets stramas åt skärps blicken av Sofia Camerin När träden avlövas ser man längre från vårt kök av Tomas Sjödin (för 2a gången) Välkommen in i min garderob av Anton Lundholm Kristunge av Malin Aronsson En shetel i Stockholm av Kenneth Hermele Hur jag lärde mig att förstå världen av Hans Rosling Katolska läror av Gunnel Vallquist Livets ord: mina tio orimliga år som frälst. Del två, Förnyad & befriad av Tomas Arnroth 

2017: 32 böcker

Romaner Ta itu av Kristina Sandberg Den döende detektiven av Leif GW Persson Gilead av Marilyone Robinson De polygotta älskarna av Lina Wolff Tystnaden av Shusaku Endo Utvandrarna av Vilhelm Moberg (för 2a gången) Invandrarna av Vilhelm Moberg (för 2a gången) Nybyggarna av Vilhelm Moberg (för 2a gången) Bricken på Svartvik av Vibecke Olsson Min kamp 1 av Karl-Ove Knausgård Sista brevet till Sverige av Vilhelm Moberg (för 2a gången) Hemma av Marilynne Robinson Min kamp 2 av Karl-Ove Knausgård

 Reportageböcker och facklitteratur Halleluja Brasilien av Kajsa Norell Två systrar av Åsne Seiersdal Rom – en stads historia av Eskil Fagerström

 Självbiografiska böcker och biografier Letters from the Desert av Carlo Carreto Bonhoeffer av Eric Metaxas Det finns annan frukt än apelsiner av Jeanette Wintersson Livets ord: mina tio orimliga år som frälst. Del ett: de första åren av Tomas Arnroth Brev från en klostercell av Hans Gunnar Adén Århundrades kärlekshistoria av Märtha Tikanen

 Ledarskapslitteratur När du leder av Josefin Arenius Ledarens hantverk av Lennarth Hambre

 Kristen uppbyggelselitteratur Klostret av James Martin SJ (egentligen en roman) Kristliga råd och betraktelser av Fénelon Becoming Who You Are av James Martin SJ

 Teologisk litteratur Inte allena av Patrik Hagman & Joel Halldorf Martin Luther – hans liv, lära och influytande 500 år senare av Stephen J Nicholas Att älska sin nästas kyrka som sin egen av Peter Halldorf 

Böcker om Bibeln The Theology of the Letter to the Hebrews av Barnabas Lindars SSF

 2016: 38 böcker

Romaner Torka aldrig tårar utan handskar: Sjukdomen av Jonas Gardell Torka aldrig tårar utan handskar: Döden av Jonas Gardell Levande och döda i Winstord av Håkan Nesser Innan floden tar oss av Helena Thorfin Århundrades kärlekskrig av Ebba Witt-Brattström  Drömmen om Elim av Vibecke Olsson De ensamma av Håkan Nesser Flickvännen av Karolina Ramquist En mörderska bland oss av Hanna Kent Flykten av Jesús Carrasco De oroliga av Linn Ullman Glöm mig av Alex Schulman

 Facklitteratur Kunskapens frukt av Liv Strömquist

Reportageböcker Det heliga berget av William Dalrymple 

Självbiografisk litteratur, biografier, memoarer eller dylikt Brännpunkter av Thomas Merton  Jag sökte Allah och fann Jesus av Nabell Quresh Cigaretten efteråt av Horace Engdahl 96 lampor – om oss som brann och försvann av Jacob Langvik Min pappa Ann-Christine av Ester Roxberg Den sista grisen av Horace Engdahl Älskade terrorist av Anna Svadberg och Jesper Huor Och i Winerwald står träden kvar av Elisabeth Åsbrink Halvvägs av Fredrik Reinfeldt

 Kristen uppbyggelselitteratur Mellan skymning och mörker av Peter Halldorf Den brinnande busken av Lev Gillet Spår av den osynlige av Mikael Hallenius Den helige Ande i den kristnes personliga liv av Kallistos Ware Tron Allena av Bo Giertz (för 2a gången) Gud och intet mer av red. Ulrika Ljungman Contemplating the Trinity av Raniero Cantalamessa Du brinnande kärlekslåga av Peter Halldorf Den som hittar sin plats tar ingen annans av Tomas Sjödin

Kyrkohistoria Following in the Footsteps av Christ av Arnold Snyder Vindarna från väster av Per-Eive Berndtsson A Brief History of Spirituality av Pilip Sheldrake

Teologisk litteratur Som om allt förvandlats – Ekologi, ekonomi och eukaristi av William T Cavanaugh

[militant-holy-knight]

Islamophobia: A “Zionist Plot”?

In response to Hating Muslims, Loving Zionists: Israel a Far-Right Model, where Al Jazeera gets everything wrong

Al Jazeera penned an opinion piece trying to lump anti-Muslim terrorism, rational critics of Islamism with Zionism of all things. The “logic” goes that “x Israeli politician is a far-righter”, many leading political figures in far-right politics that criticize Islam have expressed affection and approval for Israel; Palestine is oppressed by Israel and as such all of these things are related to each other. They even used the censored picture of Brenton Tarrant to drive the point home that “See? if you hate Islam, you are also just like this guy and oh, you support Israel too”. 

I can’t even begin pointing out what is wrong with this “some x are y, some y are z, therefore x are y” fallacy, I am even more surprised that right-winged critics of Israel didn’t even try to debunk it. In one hand, it’s pretty observable that support for Israel is strong among mainstream conservatism than other movements across the political spectrum. On the other hand, there is one figure who is never discussed when the topic of alt-right and Zionism overlap, being very little-known outside of Israel.

This is Meir Kahane, a ultra-Orthodox Jewish rabbi from the USA who migrated from to Israel and was a co-founder of the Jewish Defense League and the Kach political party. Also known as “Israel’s Ayatollah”, he urged the establishment of a Jewish theocracy codified by Maimonides (a Reconquista-era Spanish Jew), the immigration of all American Jews to Israel before a “second Holocaust” could take place and was very vocal about advocating the annexation of the West Bank and Gaza, violence against Palestinians and those he deemed as “anti-semites”. He was extremely divisive: there were people who found his Jewish supremacist rhetoric intolerable and equated him to the Nazis, while in other camp you had those who supported him largely because of Arab aggression as The Los Angeles Times reported that “[he] is a reaction to the wanton murders of innocent men, women and children in Israel” (which you can find many parallels with modern day politicians supported by the alt-right). Kahane was arrested at least 62 times by Israeli authorities for inciting hatred.

While in prison, Kahane wrote a manifesto titled “They Must Go” where he advocates the complete exile of Palestinians and the necessary process how to do it arguing that if they didn’t they’d begin outbreeding the Jewish population and take over Israel in 20 years (he wrote it in the 80s). His manifesto reads a lot like the anxiety Europeans feel about Muslim migrants which isn’t alleviated in the slightest by them speaking out in the open how they will establish a European caliphate.

Kahane was popular enough with the Israelis that he was elected with one seat to the Knesset. However, he was never really popular with his fellow parliamentarians, whom he regarded as “Hellenists” (Jews who assimilated into Greek culture after being conquered by Alexander the Great), since Kahane thought they weren’t Jewish enough. Most of his proposed laws included: imposing compulsory religious education, stripping citizenship status of all non-Jewish citizens (including Christians) and demanding that relations with Germany and Austria being cut but monetary compensation for the Holocaust being kept.

In 1990, Kahane was assassinated by an al-Qaeda member (it’s believed he was one of the first victims of the terrorist group), who was initially cleared of the murder, but was arrested later for being implicated in the 1993 WWC bombing attempt, where he confessed his first crime and was jailed to life imprisonment. His death made him a martyr leading to Kach member Baruch Goldstein to swear revenge and in 1994, he walked into the Cave of the Patriarchs on the West Bank and shot up the place, killing 30 Muslims before being lynched by the survivors. Given the Cave of the Patriarch status as a important religious site to Islam, this atrocity would have provoked probably worse reactions than Christchurch.

While researching about these things, I couldn’t help but see so many parallels between that and the Christchurch mosque incident. Kahane’s manifesto reads a lot like Tarrant’s own. Even if they were not familiar with Kahane’s own views, it was probably not lost to those that really read into Tarrant’s manifesto that not once he denounces the State of Israel for the current state of Europe - instead he blames Angela Merkel, Reccep Erdogan and Sadiq Khan, straight up calling for their deaths. This seemed enough for many people to conclude Tarrant was an Mossad agent.

To those reading this you may be asking: you listed so many things in common with the alt-right, Islamophobia and Zionism, so what did Al Jazeera get wrong?

Ah, if you actually paid attention to the fringe discourse, you realize that nothing discredits you faster than declaring yourself far-right and voicing support for Israel. I sincerely doubt that white supremacists would have liked a Jewish supremacist like Kahane, specially his demands that Germany to continue paying reparations forever. The fringe right actually finds lots of solidarity with Palestinians and common ground with the liberal left than either side cares to admit. Sure many right-wing politicians happen to be Zionists, but those are the mainstream old guard. 

I also observed that they also are overwhelmingly in support of Syrian president Bashar al-Assad in large part because he is an authoritarian model that stands up against Israel. Does it mean that all people who support Assad are also the same? No. Many support Assad because he is considered a bulwark against Islamism (even though he is a Muslim himself, albeit not considered one by terrorist extremists because he is Alawite). Despite his many flaws, normal people are willing to stand up for him because he represents stability in Syria.

I also take huge issue with Palestinians being referred to as exclusively Muslim because it erases their small and long-suffering Christian minority, which is never on anyone’s minds every time someone discuss the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, despite the fact that Palestinian Christians played a huge role in resistance against Israel before the rise of Islamism ended up alienating them and Christians across the Middle-East aren’t necessarily thrilled about Israel either, not even Israeli Christians themselves.

It’s probably no coincidence that Al Jazeera, who denounces both Israel and the Assad regime who are antagonistic to each other, also happen to be big Islamist apologists which explains why they insist in portraying the Palestinian cause as a religious struggle rather than a nationalist one. It’s in their interest to denigrate critics of Islamism who run across the board in the political spectrum from atheists like Bill Maher and Sam Harris, Christians like David Wood, Brother Rachid and Zacharias Botros and Muslims like Majid Nawaz, Ed Hussein and Mohammed Tawid and many, many, many people worried about the dangers of Islamism, which they use so vociferously the term “Islamophobia” coined by the Muslim Brotherhood, a terrorist organization disguised as political party. This way they can lump all the opposition into one camp and paint them as Zionist Islamophobes.

With all that said, the rise of conservatism and nationalism across the world is co-related with the modern liberal left’s weakness to confront the Islamist Question. One of the key reasons that led to Donald Trump’s election were fears of Hillary Clinton increasing immigration as observed by the skyrocketing of sexual abuse cases in Western Europe. Even though he is a more despotic and authoritarian figure than Trump, Erdogan from Turkey is subjected to much less scrutiny from the Western media when he locks up more journalists anywhere in the world.

And this isn’t contained to the West either, the Bharatiya Janata Party characterized as Hindu nationalist and anti-Islamic continues being elected into power because of India’s spats with Pakistan and being formed in the first place because of Indian secularists appeasing to Muslims. And if the future is any indication, you can expect more persecutions of Muslims in Sri Lanka by Buddhists and Christians after the Easter bombings from this year. Those has less to do with Zionism and more with the fear of Islamism.

There is a good reason why I brought up Kahane into this editorial: much like modern day politicians, he was considered too radical by the status quo of the time yet gained the support of a silent majority like modern day because the current status quo proved intolerable. The same thing happened in my country with Jair Bolsonaro, who was already saying absurd things as early as the 90s and would never be considered as President of Brazil yet here we are, though Kahane was assassinated before he got the chance of being Prime Minister.

How many times are we going to deflect the problem like Al Jazeera before we confront it straight in the eye?

[lovemesomesurveys]

5000 questions survey series--part forty

LOTR The Two Towers

3801. Who is your favorite Lord of the Rings charater and why?

I’ve never seen LOTR or had the desire to see it. This isn’t a whole survey about it is it...

3802. In the Lord of the Rings...how do the characters go on when the forces against them are so powerful?

How can they go on when so many awful things have happened?

3803. What is it that makes middle earth worth saving?

3804. Is Frodo making a personal sacrifice by taking the ring to be destroyed?

3805. What would you do in Frodo's place?

3806. When you saw the two towers did you really want the Ents (Treebeard etc.)to get involved in the war?

3807. Why didn't Merry and Pippin just allow the Ents to take them home to the shire? 

What could two tiny hobbits do in a great war?

3808. Why did the elves go to Helm's Deep?

They had a dusty old alliance but they could have escaped and made a new and better life, without risking their lives.

3809. Who is the most heroic LOTR character and what makes them a hero?

3810. What characters in LOTR put their own interests before the interests of all?

What characters put the interests of all above their own interests?

3811. Aragorn left the elvish girl he loved. How could he leave someone he loved? Isn't love the highest thing that there is? What could he possibly have valued higher than love that he left her for? Do you agree with him?

3812. What LOTR character displays the most humanity?

3813. What did you notice that was different between the Two Towers book and movie?

3814. Why is Frodo so kind to Gollum?

3815. You are in Helm's Deep on the eve of battle. Do you put on a suit of armor and fight, or crawl into the caves and hope to be protected?

3816. What have you risked your life for?

What would you?

3817. With the constant threat of violence, war, nukes, terror, chemicle weapons, etc. aren't we all in a similar position to those in the Lord of the Rings?

3818. How can we go on when the evil in this world is so powerful? No one and nothing is more powerful than God and He will always prevail.

How can we go on when so many awful things have happened? A lot of bad has happened, but a lot of good has, too. 

3819. What is it that makes our Earth worth saving? Because there is good that exists. We’re only here but a short time. We need to do what we can while we’re here.

3820. Who's responsibility is it to save our world? Ours.

3821. Who was more technilogically advance in LOTR, the 'good guys' or the 'bad guys'?

3821. What was Tolkien saying by causeing the Ents (trees) to come together with the river (by breaking the dam) and over throw Sauromon?

3822. Should Wormtoung have been killed? Should Gollum? Why or why not?

3823. In the battlee for Middle Earth, which LOTR character would you most like to be like and why?

3824. Which character do you think you actually WOULD be the most like?

3825. What is the over all ___ that you took away with you from this movie?

**End LOTR**

3826. Why do most people associate being spiritual or connected to the world as being a hippy? *shrug*

3827. Why is passion and honest emotion equated with hallmark cards/ I didn’t know it was.

3828. What words set off alarms in your brain (for me it's anarchy, pagan, etc)? Uh, a lot do.

3829. Are you dancin in the dark? I’m not dancing at all.

3830. Name 2 things you have never done in public:

1. Went out naked.

2. Used the restroom.

3831. If you had to choose out of what you just named, which one WOULD you do in public? Neither!

3832. Challenge yourself. Do whatever it is in public. Absolutely not.

Why not?

What are you so terrified of?

3832. Is hell REALLY other people? Hell is a place.

3833. Or would it be more hellish to live totally without other people? I wouldn’t want to be alone and without my family. I don’t do well in crowds, and I’m not very social or outgoing, but I wouldn’t want to be completely alone. 

3834. Leggos or linkin logs? I’ve played with both cause my younger brother was a Lincoln Logs kid, but I was definitely a Legos kid.

3835. What books have you read more than once? I’ve actually never read a book more than once. I don’t know why.

3836. Do you get different things out of reading a book a second time a year or more after reading it the first time? Is it because you are a different person after time passes?

3837. The person who goes to ____ is not the same person who comes back. Fill in the blank with anything you think fits.

3838. Quick! Empty your brain here! I don’t really have anything in particular to say.

3839. What's the best movie soundtrack? There’s many, but I do really enjoy the Sweeney Todd soundtrack.

3840. Tissues with or without aloe? I’ve never used any with aloe, but that sounds nice.

3841. Are you on any medication? Yes.

3842. Does any part of your own body disgust you? All of it...

If yes, isn't that odd? What could have caused that feeling of disgust with your own body? I’m just a very self-conscious person with a lot of insecurities and imperfections.

3843. Want some popcorn? Nah.

3844. What if Atlas shrugged? What.

3845. Who has led the most interesting life?/ A lot of people have.

3846. What movies are comming out next year that you are looking forward to? I’m not sure about next year yet, but there’s a ton I want to see this year.

3847. If someone is half man and half dog is he his own best friend? Sure.

3848. Paper or plastic? Reusable bags.

3849. Why did things make sense in childhood, but they don't now? We didn’t really understand and we were naive. The good ol’ days.

3850. Is it crazy time? Yes.

3851. If there is a lotto with 50 numbers, and a player picks 6 numbers without repeating any, what are their chances of getting all 6 winning numbers? I don’t know, man.

3852. If there were no laws and no rules name 3 things you would do that you don't/wouldn't/can't do now? I don’t know. I feel like the things I want to do but don’t do aren’t because they’re illegal.

3853. It's a costume party. What will your costume be if the theme is:

the 70's? The typical hippie look.

80's? Side pony tail, neon colors. 

under the sea? Ariel.

3854. Have you ever wanted to release the lobsters from those tanks in restraunts and put them back in the sea? No.

3855. How funky is your chicken? Sigh.

How loose is your goose? ...

3856. What's your favorite animal out of these: emu, otter, duck billed platypus, moose, skunk? Otter.

3857. priest, rabbi, or other religios leader, a judge, or a sea captain to perform your wedding? Priest.

3858. Do you think that it's okay for people to write their own wedding vows? Yes?

3859. Rank these as places to be married. 1 = best.

Your House or Yard

The Beach: IF I ever got married, this is where I’d want it to be.

A Park

Disneyland

A Forest

A Catering Hall

Las Vegas

A church or temple

A Courthouse

On a Boat

On a Space Station

3860. The Earth is doomed. A giant asteroid is headed our way. It will decimate the planet in 3.2 days. You and your family own a space pod and you have room for 7 people from the list below. Everyone else dies. Who do you pick? Orlando Bloom, Justin Timberlake, Joan Jett, John Denver, Baby Eve (the first human clone), Jennifer Lopez, Johnny Depp, George W Bush, David Bowie, Charleton Heston, Ralph Nader, Moby, Jeff Bridges, Kelly Osbourne, Frank Zappa, Bill Clinton, Britney Spears, Osama Bin Laden, The Pope, Eminem, Madonna

3861. Rank the following dead people in order of who you would like to spend the day with. 1 = you'd like to hang out with them the most.

Joan of Arc

Groucho Marx

John Lennon

Joey Ramone

Anton Levay

Tupac

Jack Kerouac

Aaliyah

John F Kennedy

Lucielle Ball: I’d love to be able to hang out with her. I love Lucy!

Jim Morrison

3862. If you could grant immortality to one person you know (can't be yourself) who would you give it to? My brother.

3863. If you could grant immortality to one person who you do not know personally but know of (writer, politician, etc) who would you give it to? I don’t know.

3864. Name a person you love: My family.

Name a person you admire: My mom.

Name a friend: My mom.

Name a relative: My mom. haha. 

If you had to condemn one of them to death to save the lives of the others who would it be and why? No.

3865. Would you rather be one of Santa's elves or a dentist? One of Santa’s elves, definitely. How fun. I’d totally be like Buddy.

3866. When you first meet people what do you talk to them about? If I’m just meeting them then it’s awkward small talk.

3867. You have been invited to a party with any sports team in the world. Which one? I don’t care about sports.

3868. Finish the sentances.

In a world where:

He was:

She was:

Together, they were:

Why do so many movie trailers start off by saying 'In a world..'? Because it takes place in a world. Ha.

3869. Make up a superhero with really unhelpful powers: Destructo. He’s very destructive, which includes the destruction of good things.

3870. A couple of days ago this guy won 14 million dollars and tried to donate 1 million to the salvation army. The salvation army turned the money down saying they didn't want dirty gambling money. Did they do the right thing? I’ve heard a lot of bad things about the Salvation Army, so that’s kinda funny they’d act like they were all innocent.

3871. If you had a spare million for charity work who would you donate it to? Something for children.

3872. What's the craziest most shocking moment of rock and roll history that you can think of? Uhhh.

3873. Why is it that if a man kills another man in battle it's called heroic, but if he kills a man in the heat of passion, it's called murder?

3874. What kind of punishment do you feel the following crimes deserve:

premeditated murder?

date rape?

drug sales?

drug use?

burglery?

3875. If you could kiss anyone in the world on midnight at new year's eve, who would be the lucky one? Alexander Skarsgard. Not so lucky for him, but. haha.

3876. You have just taken two sexy people prisoner because they found your hide out and you think they are spies. What do youd do: kill them, hump them or have crumpets and tea? Wtf.

3877. What is your new year's resolution? I don’t make those anymore.

3878. Should the U.S. focus more on the threat from N. Korea or Iraq?

3879. Would you ever have plastic surgery? If it was for reconstructive purposes.

3880. How can George Bush be considered a Christian when he a war-monger and the ten comandments say do not kill?

3881. What is the most inetesting premise for a reality tv show that you can think of? I don’t know. I watch a lot of reality TV, though.

3882. Who is the Hollywood Star next to die of a drug overdose? Yikes, I don’t know. :/

3883. Do you find yourself caring a lot about online people, even if you haven't met or spoken to them off of the computer? Yeah.

3884. When you hear the song puff the magic dragon what do you think? Marijuana. 

3885. Let's give you a tarot reading. Go on, ask any question: No thanks.

first card: the reversed high preistess.

you may be expecting things to come too easily. You should be careful not to give up if they dont go your way. You're feeling a desire to escape, to withdraw into yourself. Shrug off your current lack of focus and work diligently to acheive the goals you want.

second card: the reversed hanged man.

You shouldnt be close-minded with your situation. There are many alternatives and possible solutions to your problems. Try something new.

The last card: Justice.

what goes around comes around. Seek advice on the matters at hand from elders. Do healthy things, spiritually and physically.

3886. What does 'boo' mean dn how did it become a slang word of affection? It comes from the French word, “beau.” Huh, interesting. 

3887. How often do you stretch? I stretch out my arms and fingers a lot.

3888. Have you ever wished that you didn't have to be yourself? Oh yes.

3889. Would you rather wear shoes full of earthworms or a hat full of spiders? jlaskdjkljdklsjflks

3890. What are some things that for most people go unsaid? How we really feel about our loved ones. We don’t tell them enough, maybe not at all.

3891. I said, 'Play me the best song in the world.' You put on: 3892. What happened last year that you would like to forget? Blah I don’t know. These past few years have been really hard.

3893. What are you not able to do alone? I wouldn’t survive long on my own.

3894. Do you feel more connected to earth air fire or water and why? Water I suppose since I love the beach. I’m a big scardy cat to get in the water, it’s a terrifying thought, but I love being near it and watch/listen to the waves crash in, smell that ocean air, and feel that ocean breeze. 3895. Which two words belong together and why: life, seawater, chocolate, blood, hair piece Life and blood. You need blood to live.

3896. If con is the opposite of pro, what's the opposite of progress? Uhh.

3897. Have you ever wanted to meet the inspectors with the numbers for names(i.e. inspected by 36)? Nah.

3898. Who is the most thought-provoking person you know, &why? Hmm. I don’t know.

3899. If you could change 1 thing you did in the last 24 hours, what would it be & why? I would have taken a longer nap.

3900. What is the most bizarre thing you've ever done? Who knows.

[oneshul]

Queen Salome Alexandra, Heroine of Chanukah

I have often said that Judaism, like its two sister faiths, is a “Boys’ Club,” in which the Boys, or Men, get the best parts, and the women are relegated to baking challah, lighting holiday and Shabbat candles, and going to mikvah. I do hope that, as more and more women enter the rabbinate (even among the Modern Orthodox, in which several women serve as rabbis in all but title) and the cantorate (where they have dominated for decades), this situation will change for the better. In the future, Jews should not say, “She’s a woman rabbi,” or “He’s a male rabbi,” but rather, “She’s a very good and skillful rabbi.”

As Chanukah 5779 winds down, we ought to remember a woman heroine of yesteryear who singlehandedly preserved, protected, and extended Judaism, during a time of court intrigues and civil war among the Jews, as well as other nations invading Judea. This was Salome Alexandra (Hebrew: Shlomzion), descended from the Hasmonean Maccabees. It is tragic that her only memorial is a street named after her in the artists’ district of Jerusalem.

Shlomzion, unlike many other aristocrats of her day, came from a religious background—her own brother, Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach, who was head of the Sanhedrin, the High Religious Court of the Seventy Elders, and the supreme religious authority of its time. I regret saying that the Hasmoneans, despite their mettle during the War Against Greece which led to Chanukah, were fearful that their own relatives might assassinate them to gain the throne of Judea, and hence infamous for assassination of one another.

Against this murky and evil political backdrop, Shlomzion was a shining light. Her entry into politics began under a bloody cloud: her husband, Aristobulus, used his becoming king as an excuse to imprison all of his brothers as potential rivals, including his own mother, whom he starved to death. Fortunately, he caught a disease and perished, leaving no children. Using the Jewish law of yibum (levirate marriage), his brother Alexander Yannai married Shlomzion—it is crucial to state that this was a marriage of politics, not of love.

At this time, the rabbis of Judea were all in hiding—the Hasmoneans were noted for favoring the Sadducees, who shunned Judaism, but emphasized Temple worship. Luckily for Shlomzion and the future of Judaism in those calamitous days, Alexander Yannai was conceited, as well as ignorant of Jewish sacrificial law. During one Sukkot, he donned the robes of the High Priest—a violation of his role as secular monarch—and, during the service before the Holy Altar of the Temple, derisively poured the libation water onto his feet, rather than the Altar itself.

In anger at this act of chutzpah, the Pharisees attending the service (who hated the Sadducees, anyway), pelted the foolish monarch with their etrogim, holiday citrons. Alexander’s personal bodyguard moved in to save their king from “assassination by etrog,” and murdered six thousand people in the Temple. This atrocity led to Alexander’s declaring civil war against the Pharisees.

I have often stated that Jews make the best antisemites, and this disastrous war proved it: the brutal conflict, pitting Alexander’s Sadducean Jewish Army against the Pharisees, lasted over six years, and killed 50,000 Jews. Shlomzion did not hesitate to take steps to save her people, and Judaism in particular. She hid the Sanhedrin’s leadership, among them her brother, Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach. And she undertook to negotiate a peace treaty between the two sides, ending by favoring Rabbinic Judaism.

As a result, Alexander kept his kingship, but the office of High Priest and control of the Temple Service reverted to rabbinic control. Slowly, Shlomzion removed Sadducean influence from the state religion.

Fortunately for the future of our religion, Alexander Yanai died soon after the peace was signed. No longer obligated to marry some useless, headstrong man, Queen Shlomzion herself took charge of the kingdom, and began a reign which shines through the dismal light of this historical period.

Shlomzion wasted no time: she summarily transferred control of Judea’s educational and judicial systems from the Sadducees to the Pharisees. She also extended royal protection to the rabbis, who had the Mishnah, the next stage in development of Torah Law, by heart—that is why it was called “The Oral Law.” Had Alexander succeeded in murdering all the rabbis, Judaism would have vanished as a legal system and religion. Ironically, Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach, brother of the Queen, is called “Restorer of the Law” in the Talmud, another example of favoring male leadership at the expense of courageous women, such as his sister, Shlomzion. She instituted a system whereby Torah scholars were paid to study and teach, thereby becoming the great scholars of the Mishnah. Together with Rabbi Shimon, she established yeshivote, Hebrew Schools, in the larger cities. Every time we send a child to religious school, or learn Talmud, we have Shlomzion to thank.

In addition, the Queen was solely responsible for restoring Judea to a sound economic footing, which was recorded in the Talmud. During her ten-year reign (76-67 BCE), she worked to increase harvests and commerce, and ended (sadly, only temporarily) the Jewish Civil Wars. With all of her triumphs, why do we know so little about her? Why are Hebrew Schools not named in her honor, or even one monument dedicated to her hard work and resultant glory?

Queen Shlomzion’s reign is a shining light amid civil wars, invasions by other kingdoms, and Hasmonean family debacles. During this Season of Lights, she deserves to be better remembered. Often, it takes a woman to right the situation. Remember Queen Shlomzion!

 References

Bader, S. (2017, Jan. 2). The forgotten women of Jewish history: ShlomzionHaMalkah. Retrieved from https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-forgotten-women-of-jewish-history-shlomzion-hamalkah/

Domnitch, L. (1995). Queen Shlomtzion: In the spirit of the Maccabees. Retrieved from http://www.aish.com/print/?contentID=285746681&section=/h/c/s/g

Taitz, E. (n.d.) Salome Alexandra, the first Hasmonean queen of Judea. Retrieved from https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/salome-alexandra/

Rabbi David Hartley Mark is from New York City’s Lower East Side. He attended Yeshiva University, the City University of NY Graduate Center for English Literature, and received semicha at the Academy for Jewish Religion. He currently teaches English at Everglades University in Boca Raton, FL, and has a Shabbat pulpit at Temple Sholom of Pompano Beach. His literary tastes run to Isaac Bashevis Singer, Stephen King, King David, Kohelet, Christopher Marlowe, and the Harlem Renaissance.

[justforbooks]

Philip Roth, Towering Novelist Who Explored Lust, Jewish Life and America, Dies at 85

Philip Roth, the prolific, protean and often blackly comic novelist whose creations included David Kepesh, an academic who turns into an exquisitely sensitive 155-pound female breast, and Alexander Portnoy, a teenager so libidinous that he has sex with both his baseball mitt and the family dinner, died on Tuesday. He was 85 and lived in New York and Connecticut.

His death was confirmed by Judith Thurman, a close friend.

Mr. Roth was the last of the great white males: the triumvirate of writers — Saul Bellow and John Updike were the others — who towered over American letters in the second half of the 20th century. Outliving both and borne aloft by an extraordinary second wind, Mr. Roth wrote more novels than either of them. In 2005 he became only the third living writer (after Bellow and Eudora Welty) to have his books enshrined in the Library of America.

“Updike and Bellow hold their flashlights out into the world, reveal the world as it is now,” Mr. Roth once said. “I dig a hole and shine my flashlight into the hole.”

The Nobel Prize eluded Mr. Roth, but he won most of the other top honors: two National Book Awards, two National Book Critics Circle awards, three PEN/Faulkner Awards, a Pulitzer Prize and the Man Booker International Prize.

In his 60s, an age when many writers are winding down, he produced an exceptional sequence of historical novels — “American Pastoral,” “The Human Stain” and “I Married a Communist” — a product of his personal re-engagement with America and American themes. And starting with “Everyman” in 2006, when he was 73, he kept up a relentless book-a-year pace, publishing works that while not necessarily major were nevertheless fiercely intelligent and sharply observed. Their theme in one way or another was the ravages of age and mortality itself, and in publishing them Mr. Roth seemed to be defiantly staving off his own decline.

Mr. Roth was often lumped together with Bellow and Bernard Malamud as part of the “Hart, Schaffner & Marx of American letters,” but he resisted the label. “The epithet American-Jewish writer has no meaning for me,” he said. “If I’m not an American, I’m nothing.”

And yet, almost against his will sometimes, he was drawn again and again to writing about themes of Jewish identity, anti-Semitism and the Jewish experience in America. He returned often, especially in his later work, to the Weequahic neighborhood of Newark, where he grew up and which became in his writing a kind of vanished Eden: a place of middle-class pride, frugality, diligence and aspiration.

It was a place where no one was unaware “of the power to intimidate that emanated from the highest and lowest reaches of gentile America,” he wrote, and yet where being Jewish and being American were practically indistinguishable. Speaking of his father in “The Facts,” an autobiography, Mr. Roth said: “His repertoire has never been large: family, family, family, Newark, Newark, Newark, Jew, Jew, Jew. Somewhat like mine.”

Mr. Roth’s favorite vehicle for exploring this repertory was himself, or rather one of several fictional alter egos he deployed as a go-between, negotiating the tricky boundary between autobiography and invention and deliberately blurring the boundaries between real life and fiction. Nine of Mr. Roth’s novels are narrated by Nathan Zuckerman, a novelist whose career closely parallels that of his creator. Three more are narrated by David Kepesh, a writerly academic who shares some of Mr. Roth’s preoccupations, women especially. And sometimes Mr. Roth dispensed with the disguise altogether — or seemed to.

The protagonist of “Operation Shylock” is a character named Philip Roth, who is being impersonated by another character, who has stolen Roth’s identity. At the center of “The Plot Against America,” a book that invents an America where Charles Lindbergh wins the 1940 presidential election and initiates a secret pogrom against Jews, is a New Jersey family named Roth that resembles the author’s in every particular.

“Making fake biography, false history, concocting a half-imaginary existence out of the actual drama of my life is my life,” Mr. Roth told Hermione Lee in a 1984 interview in The Paris Review. “There has to be some pleasure in this life, and that’s it.”

Occasionally, as in “Deception,” a slender 1990 novel about a writer named Philip who is writing about a writer having an affair with one of his made-up characters, this sleight of hand feels stuntlike and a little dizzying. More often, and especially in “The Counterlife” (1986), Mr. Roth’s masterpiece in this vein, what results is a profound investigation into the competing and overlapping claims of fiction and reality, in which each aspires to the condition of the other and the very idea of a self becomes a fabrication at once heroic and treacherous.

Mr. Roth’s other great theme was sex, or male lust, which in his books is both a life force and a principle of rage and disorder. It is sex, the uncontrollable need to have it, that torments poor, guilt-ridden Portnoy, probably Mr. Roth’s most famous character, who desperately wants to “be bad — and to enjoy it.” And Mickey Sabbath, the protagonist of “Sabbath’s Theater,” one of Mr. Roth’s major late-career novels, is in many ways Portnoy grown old but still in the grip of lust and longing, raging against the indignity of old age and yet saved from suicidal impulses by the realization that there are too many people he loves to hate.

In public Mr. Roth, tall and good-looking, was gracious and charming but with little use for small talk. In private he was a gifted mimic and comedian. Friends used to say that if his writing career had ever fizzled he could have made a nice living doing stand-up. But there was about his person, as about his writing, a kind of simmering intensity, an impatience with art that didn’t take itself seriously.

Some writers “pretend to be more lovable than they are and some pretend to be less,” he told Ms. Lee. “Beside the point. Literature isn’t a moral beauty contest. Its power arises from the authority and audacity with which the impersonation is pulled off; the belief it inspires is what counts.”

Philip Milton Roth was born in Newark on March 19, 1933, the younger of two sons. (His brother, Sandy, a commercial artist, died in 2009.) His father, Herman, was an insurance manager for Metropolitan Life who felt that his career had been thwarted by the gentile executives who ran the company. Mr. Roth once described him as a cross between Captain Ahab and Willy Loman. His mother, the former Bess Finkel, was a secretary before she married and then became a housekeeper of the heroic old school — the kind, he once suggested, who raised cleaning to an art form.

The family lived in a five-room apartment on Summit Avenue within which were only three books when he was growing up — given as presents when someone was ill, Mr. Roth said. He went to Weequahic High, where he was a good student but not good enough to win a scholarship to Rutgers, as he had hoped. In 1951 he enrolled as a pre-law student at the Newark branch of Rutgers, with vague notions of becoming “a lawyer for the underdog.”

But he yearned to live away from home, and the following year he transferred to Bucknell College in Lewisburg, Pa., a place about which he knew almost nothing except that a Newark neighbor seemed to have thrived there. Inspired by one of his professors, Mildred Martin, with whom he remained a lasting friend, Mr. Roth switched his interests from law to literature. He helped found a campus literary magazine, where in an early burst of his satiric power he published a parody of the college newspaper so devastating that it earned him an admonition from the dean.

Mr. Roth graduated from Bucknell, magna cum laude, in 1954 and won a scholarship to the University of Chicago, where he was awarded an M.A. in 1955. That same year, rather than wait for the draft, he enlisted in the Army but suffered a back injury during basic training and received a medical discharge. In 1956 he returned to Chicago to study for a Ph.D. in English but dropped out after one term.

Mr. Roth had begun to write and publish short stories by then, and in 1959 he won a Houghton Mifflin Fellowship to publish what became his first collection, “Goodbye, Columbus.” It won the National Book Award in 1960 but was denounced — in an inkling of trouble to come — by some influential rabbis, who objected to the portrayal of the worldly, assimilated Patimkin family in the title novella, and even more to the story “Defender of the Faith,” about a Jewish Army sergeant plagued by goldbricking draftees of his own faith.

In 1962, while appearing on a panel at Yeshiva University, Mr. Roth was so denounced, for that story especially, that he resolved never to write about Jews again. He quickly changed his mind.

“My humiliation before the Yeshiva belligerents — indeed, the angry Jewish resistance that I aroused virtually from the start — was the luckiest break I could have had,” he later wrote. “I was branded.”

Mr. Roth later called his first two novels “apprentice work.” “Letting Go,” published in 1962, was derived in about equal parts from Bellow and Henry James. “When She Was Good,” which came out in 1967, is the most un-Rothian of his books, a Theodore Dreiser- or Sherwood Anderson-like story set in the WASP Midwest in the 1940s.

“When She Was Good” was based in part on the life and family of Margaret Martinson Williams, with whom Mr. Roth had entered a calamitous relationship in 1959. Ms. Williams, who was divorced and had a daughter, met Mr. Roth while she was waiting tables in Chicago, and she tricked him into marriage by pretending to be pregnant. He was “enslaved” to her own sense of victimization, he wrote. They separated in 1963, but Ms. Williams refused to divorce, and she remained a vexatious presence in his life until she died in a car crash in 1968. (She appears as Josie Jensen in “The Facts” and, more or less undisguised, as the exasperating Margaret Tarnopol in Mr. Roth’s novel “My Life as a Man.”)

After the separation, Mr. Roth moved back East and began work on “Portnoy’s Complaint,” the novel for which he may be best known and which surely set a record for most masturbation scenes per page. It was a breakthrough not just for Mr. Roth but for American letters, which had never known anything like it: an extended, unhinged monologue, at once filthy and hilarious, by a neurotic young Jewish man trying to break free of his suffocating parents and tormented by a longing to have sex with gentile women, shiksas.

The book was “an experiment in verbal exuberance,” Mr. Roth said, and it deliberately broke all the rules.

The novel, published in 1969, became a best seller but received mixed reviews. Josh Greenfeld, writing in The New York Times Book Review, called it “the very novel that every American-Jewish writer has been trying to write in one guise or another since the end of World War II.” On the other hand, Irving Howe (on whom Mr. Roth later modeled the pompous, stuffy critic Milton Appel in “The Anatomy Lesson”) wrote in a lengthy takedown in 1972, “The cruelest thing anyone can do with ‘Portnoy’s Complaint’ is read it twice.”

And once again the rabbis complained. Gershom Scholem, the great kabbalah scholar, declared that the book was more harmful to Jews than “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion.”

Mr. Roth’s autobiographical phase began in 1974 with “My Life as a Man,” which he said was probably the least factually altered of his books, and continued with the Zuckerman trilogy — “The Ghost Writer” (1979), “Zuckerman Unbound” (1981) and “The Anatomy Lesson” (1983) — which examined the authorial vocation and even the nature of writing itself.

Zuckerman reappeared in “The Counterlife” (1986), where he seems to die of a heart attack and is then resurrected. “Operation Shylock” (1993), which Mr. Roth pretended was a “confession,” not a novel (though in the very last sentence he says, “This confession is false”), involved two Roths, one real and one phony, and the real one claims to have been a spy for the Mossad. The book, with its sense of shifting reality and unstable identity, partly stemmed from a near-breakdown Mr. Roth experienced when he became addicted to the sleeping pill Halcion after knee surgery in 1983 and from severe depression he suffered after emergency bypass surgery in 1989.

For much of this time Mr. Roth had been spending half the year in London with the actress Claire Bloom, with whom he began living in 1976. They married in 1990 but divorced four years later. In 1996, Ms. Bloom published a memoir, “Leaving the Doll’s House,” in which she depicted him as a misogynist and control freak, so self-involved that he refused to let her daughter, from her marriage to the actor Rod Steiger, live with them because she bored him.

Never fond of attention, Mr. Roth became even more private after this accusation and never publicly replied to it, though some critics found unflattering parallels to Ms. Bloom and her daughter in the characters Eve Frame and her daughter, Sylphid, in “I Married a Communist.”

The marriage over, Mr. Roth moved permanently back to the United States and began what proved to be the third major phase of his career. He returned, he said, because he felt out of touch: “It was really my rediscovering America as a writer.”

“Sabbath’s Theater,” which came out in 1995 and won the National Book Award, is about neither Roth nor Zuckerman but rather Morris Sabbath, known as Mickey, an ex-puppeteer in his 60s. His voice is nothing if not American: an angry, comic, lustful harangue.

“In this new book life is represented as anarchic horniness on the rampage against death and its harbingers, old age and impotence,” Frank Kermode wrote in The New York Review of Books, adding, “There is really only one way for him to tell the story — defiantly with outraged phallic energy.”

Like “Portnoy’s Complaint,” “Sabbath’s Theater” seemed to liberate its author, and yet the work that followed — what Mr. Roth called his American trilogy: “American Pastoral,” “I Married a Communist” and “The Human Stain” — is less about sex than about history or traumatic moments in American culture. Zuckerman returns as the narrator of all three novels, but he is in his 60s now, impotent and suffering from prostate cancer. His prose is plainer, crisper, less show-offy, and he is less an actor than an observer and interpreter.

The books are full of dense reportorial detail — about such seemingly un-Rothian subjects as glove making and ice fishing — as they tell Job-like stories. There is Swede Lvov, a seemingly gilded Newark businessman, a gifted athlete married to Miss New Jersey of 1949, whose life is destroyed in the 1960s when his teenage daughter becomes an antiwar terrorist and plants a bomb that kills an innocent bystander. Ira Ringold is a star of a radio serial during the McCarthy era who is blacklisted and becomes the subject of an exposé published by his own wife. And Coleman Silk, a black classics professor passing as white, commits an innocent classroom gaffe while the Clinton impeachment is taking place and finds himself mercilessly hounded by the politically correct.

These books are not without their comic moments, but history here is no joke; it is more nearly a tragedy. In 2007, Mr. Roth killed Zuckerman off in the sad and affecting “Exit Ghost,” a novel that cleverly echoes and inverts the themes of “The Ghost Writer,” the first of the Zuckerman novels. Meanwhile he had begun writing a series of shorter novels that, after the publication of “Nemesis” in 2010, he began calling “Nemeses.” The sequence began in 2005 with “Everyman,” which starts in a graveyard and ends on an operating table.

That work set the tone for the rest: “Indignation” (2008), a ghost story of sorts about a young student unfairly expelled from college and sent off to fight in the Korean War; “The Humbling” (2009), about an actor who has lost his powers; and “Nemesis,” about the polio epidemic of the 1950s. The prose became even sparer and, in the case of “Nemesis,” deliberately matter-of-fact and unliterary, and though the books have plenty of sexual moments, they are haunted by something darker and bleaker.

Yet the very existence of these books, coming reliably almost one every year, seemed to belie their message. “Time doesn’t prey on my mind. It should, but it doesn’t,” Mr. Roth told David Remnick. He added: “I don’t know yet what this will all add up to, and it no longer matters, because there’s no stopping. All you want to do is the obvious. Just get it right.”

Increasingly, Mr. Roth spent most of his time alone in his 18th-century Connecticut farmhouse, returning to New York mostly in the winter when he grew so stir-crazy he found himself talking to woodchucks. He worked, read in the evenings (nonfiction mostly) and occasionally listened to a ballgame. In some ways he came to resemble his own creation, Nathan Zuckerman, who asks at the end of a chapter in “Exit Ghost,” “Isn’t one’s pain quotient shocking enough without fictional amplification, without giving things an intensity that is ephemeral in life and sometimes even unseen?”

“Not for some,” he goes on. “For some very, very few that amplification, evolving uncertainly out of nothing, constitutes their only assurance, and the unlived, the surmise, fully drawn in print on paper, is the life whose meaning comes to matter most.”

In 2010, right after “Nemesis,” Mr. Roth decided to quit writing. He didn’t tell anyone at first, because, as he said, he didn’t want to be like Frank Sinatra, announcing his retirement one minute and making a comeback the next. But he stuck with his plan and in 2012, he officially announced that he was done. A Post-it note on his computer said, “The struggle with writing is done.”

He had been famous for putting in endless days at his stand-up desk, throwing out more pages than he kept, and in a 2018 interview he said he was worn out. “I was by this time no longer in possession of the mental vitality or the physical fitness needed to mount and sustain a large creative attack of any duration.” He settled into the contented life of an Upper West Side retiree, seeing friends, going to concerts.

He was in frequent communication with his appointed biographer, Blake Bailey, whom he sometimes flooded with notes, and he was also at pains to straighten out an erroneous Wikipedia account of his life. Mostly, he read — nonfiction by preference, but he made exception for the occasional novel. One of the last he read was “Asymmetry,” by Lisa Halliday, a book about a young woman who has a romance with an aging novelist who bore an unmistakable resemblance to Mr. Roth — funny, kind, acerbic, passionate, immensely well-read, a devotee of Zabar’s and old movies. In an interview, Mr. Roth acknowledged that he and Ms. Halliday had been friends, and added: “She got me.”

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[teenageread]

Review: The Immortals

Synopsis:

During World War II, four chaplains were assigned to the SS Dorchester with more than 900 men on board. Alexander Goode, a Jewish rabbi; John Washington, a Catholic priest; George Fox, a Methodist minister; and Clark Poling, a Baptist minister, all offered comfort, reassurances, and prayers along with a warning from the captain that a German submarine was hunting their convoy.

Thoroughly researched and told in an engrossing nonfiction narrative, this true story alternates between accounts told from the perspective of the Nazi U-boat captain and his crew (as found in their journals and later interviews) and survivors from the Dorchester who credit the four chaplains with saving their lives after their ship was torpedoed.

The celebrated story of the men who became known as the Immortal Chaplains is now joined for the first time in print by the largely untold story of another hero: Charles Water David Jr. A young Black petty officer aboard a coast guard cutter traveling with the Dorchester, Charles bravely dived into the glacial water over and over again, even with hypothermia setting in, to try to rescue those the chaplains had inspired to never give up.

Page-turning and inspiring, The Immortals explores the power of both faith and sacrifice and powerfully narrates the lives of five heroic men who believed in something greater than themselves, giving their all for people of vastly different beliefs and backgrounds.

Plot:

Called the Immortal Chaplains, these four men were on board the SS Dorchester when it sank in the arctic waters off of Greenland on February 3, 1943, after being hit by a German U-boat. They used their own lives to save others by giving those in need their lifejackets, gloves, and shoelaces to survive. During this era members of different faiths did not associate with each other, thus the four of them working together as a team throughout their time on the SS Dorchester and while it was sinking, made these men into the memorial heroes we remember and treasure today. However, there was a fifth hero that helped out during the SS Dorchester despite it not being part of his duty because he was Black. It was not in Petty Officer Charles Water David Jr. 's duty to help, but he did anyway, being the first to step up, Charles and his team managed to save 93 men from death, before ultimately losing his own life to the sea after successfully saving his friend. Throughout this story, Steven Collis tells the life these five men lived, their time at sea, and what happened to their families afterward. These men were heroes of the World War Two era, and gave up their lives so that others could live, as when the SS Dorchester sank it killed 674 out of 904 people on board, and it would have been more without our five heroes. 

Thoughts:

What a powerful and moving story that Steven Collis presents within this novel. This story documents the lives of the four Immortal Chaplains plus the life of Charles Water David Jr. who is only recently making headlines for his contribution to the effort of saving lives when the SS Dorchester sank. Collis put a lot of work and research into this novel, from documenting the early lives of our five heroes, what people said about them when they were about the sea, and how their deaths impacted their families, all the men had wives with young children waiting for their return. Where this book is about faith, as four out of the five men were chaplains, religion and faith were not a huge part of the story but did speak to the character of each of the men who did what they did out of faith as that is what their God intended them to do. Collins mentioned several times how close their four chaplains were together, and made note of how rare and odd it was seeing these men of different faith act as if best friends towards each other. The main issue with this novel is that its writing style was a bit weird sometimes, as it had the making of a history textbook but told in a narrative way, kind of like a written documentary. Divided into three parts, Collis had long chapters that were divided into paragraphs, allowing it to be easy reading, as Collis switched between each of the five men and their lives that led them to save the lives of those aboard the SS Dorchester while tragically losing their own. Overall, this novel was heartbreakingly beautiful, allowing recognition to our five heroes, and made sure that their names will forever be remembered throughout history.

Alexander Goode

John Washington

George Fox

Clark Poling

Charles Water David Jr

Thank you for your sacrifice

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Today in Christian History

Today is Sunday, February 3rd, the 34th day of 2019. There are 331 days left in the year.

Today’s Highlight in History:

865: (traditional date) Death in Germany of Anskar, an early English or Irish missionary who had tried repeatedly to evangelize Scandinavia.

1238: Mongols surround the city of Vladimir, whose citizens, including Orthodox Christians, vow to resist to the last man to defend God’s churches. The city will fall on the fourteenth of that same month.

1399: Death in London of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, whose political struggles with powerful prelates led him to support the religious reformer John Wycliffe.

1469: Death in Mainz, Germany, of Johannes Gutenberg, a developer of movable type, which will become a powerful factor in the spread of the Protestant Reformation.

1738: John Wesley arrives in London, having fled the colony of Georgia, where his ministry had been a serious failure.

1788: Richard Johnson, first Christian cleric appointed to Australia, preaches his first sermon in that country.

1832: Death in Trowbridge, Wiltshire, England, of George Crabbe, a Church of England vicar and notable poet.

1943: The Allied troopship S.S. Dorchester is torpedoed by a German sub near Greenland and goes down with a loss of 600 lives. The event is notable for the selflessness of four chaplains, Rev. Clark Poling (Dutch Reformed), Rev. George Lansing Fox (Methodist), Father John Washington (a Catholic priest) and Alexander David Goode (a Jewish rabbi), who gave up their lifejackets to save other men.

1998: Execution in Texas of Karla Faye Tucker, a murderess, who converted to Christianity on death row and died praising Jesus. Movies and documentaries will be made about her life.

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Hyde Park, London. 1968 Claire.

“You can’t catch me, Da!” shouted Davie as he ran past me. Jamie snatched him up and tossed him over his shoulder with a playful growl, making our five-year-old son shriek with delight.

The afternoon was warm, almost unbearably so, but there was a slight breeze here in the shade. I shifted in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. The pressure of the hard, wooden slats of the park bench combined my perspiration adhered the fabric of my sundress to my skin. I peeled the damp cotton away from my lower back, looking out at the idyllic scene in front of me. I smiled to myself, perfectly content. It was a splendid afternoon for a romp in Hyde Park.

Not only was the weather fine, but I also had all twelve of my children together at the same time. The eldest three Frasers, having begun their adventure as independent adults, had come home to celebrate their father’s birthday.

The birthday boy had one son over his shoulder, another with his arms wrapped around his waist, and a daughter clinging to his left leg. He was in his element. Feigning injury, he carefully collapsed to the ground with a dramatic groan. A cheer went up from all of the children, making Jamie laugh.

Out on the pond, the boys were in one boat, the girls in another. Julia and Brianna sat at the oars, younger sisters in the bow, guiding the craft along the peaceful shoreline. Their brothers, on the other hand, were far more interested in the family of frogs living among the reeds and had managed to get themselves stuck for a third time. A loud splash told me Gavin had decided to get out and push the boat free.

I looked down just in time to see two-year-old Neil try to feed a leaf to his sister.

“Babies don’t eat leaves, darling,” I bent, and moved his hand away from Abigail’s face. Trading him the leaf for a toy, I continued, “And neither should you.”

Becoming bored with the shaded tranquility and his infant sister, the towheaded toddler waddled towards the wrestling match on the grass. I picked Abigail up and, draping a cloth over my shoulder, began to feed her.

It was a wonderful experiment in genetics and heredity, I thought: six of our twelve children had Jamie’s red hair and ten inherited his blue eyes. They ranged from average height to tall, unsurprisingly. Alexander, at eighteen, was a solid inch taller than Jamie, and Robert, at fourteen, was showing signs of outgrowing them both. Julia and Maisie had been cursed with my unruly curls, although neither seemed to mind. All twelve managed to simultaneously resemble each other and look completely different.

Jamie had given me a set of Apostles’ spoons when we found out we were expecting Julia. We had joked then about having a child for each spoon, never dreaming that we would someday. My minds eye saw the spoons, nestled safely in blue velvet, and I mentally paired each child with an Apostle as I listened to them the brood chatter and giggle.

St Andrew.

Julia: my first born, child of my heart. At nearly twenty-four, she showed no outward signs of her childhood illnesses. Her auburn curls were vibrant, her skin healthy and lively. She was the same height as me, with rich brown eyes that held great depths of emotion. She preferred to let her sister Brianna take charge when the situation warranted, but was fiercely protective of her eleven younger siblings.

St Peter.

Brianna: the rock on which I stand. So like her father in both looks and temperament, she was the leader of the pack. She was my right hand man, so to speak, in many ways. I missed her terribly while she was away at University and always looked forward to her detailed, weekly letters.

St Matthias.

Alexander Brian: our philosopher and eldest son. Ever the brilliant mind, Alex was following in my medical footsteps. His dark brown hair and clear, blue eyes made him a favorite with the girls at University, but I had it on good authority that he had no time for that sort of thing. Yet.

St Jude.

Janet Helene: our peacemaker and comforter. Jenny, seventeen, was the glue that held our unruly brood together. In her own pragmatic way, she was able to discern what was at the heart of her siblings’ many quarrels and often had the conflict resolved before it came to a head. I’m sure I would have gone insane without her.

St James, the greater.

Robert Ian: my comedienne. Four years younger than knight-in-shining-armor Alex and only twenty months older than troublemaker Gavin, Rabbie was often stuck in the middle. He chose to find the humor in life and could always find a way to make me smile.

St James, the lesser.

Gavin Murtagh: my headstrong instigator. Born right on the heels of his brother Rabbie, he was a sweethearted scalawag from the start. He had good intentions but somehow his plans always went awry.  For example, just last week he got Maisie to help him smuggle home a squirrel in his coat pocket. The poor thing had injured its tail, but before they could carefully confine it, it escaped and spent the next six hours loose in the house.

St John.

Anne Elizabeth: our old soul. Annie was ten going on sixty-nine. She loved nothing more than a good book and a quiet room, something that was hard to find in the Fraser household. Annie loved her siblings with abandon and somehow always knew exactly what was needed in a moment of emotional crisis. She was also my resident baby whisperer.

St Mathew.

Stephen James: our champion. Loyal to a fault, Stephen was a best friend to everyone. He was the encourager of the flock and the only one who could convince Maisie to do something she didn’t want to do, which was often.

St Bartholomew.

Margaret Clara: my spitfire. At six years old, Maisie was something of a character. She could sell ice to the Eskimos and walk away with them thinking it was their idea. Oh, that girl could talk. She had an abundance of auburn ringlets that could never be tamed and a personality to match. Heaven help anyone who stood in her way.

St Simon.

David Michael: our engineer. Everything was new and exciting to Davie. He was constantly taking things apart to see how they worked and seldom managed to get them back together again. He’d learned the hard way not to experiment on any of Maisie’s toys.

St Thomas.

Neil Thomas: the toddler. Almost two and a half years old, we were still discovering new things about Neil’s personality. He still had the chubby cheeks and fine hair of babyhood, but liked to remind us he could do things himself, thank you very much.

St Philip.

Abigail Marie: the baby. It had taken her only a week to have each and every one of us wrapped around her little fingers. She was now six months old and completely spoiled. She had a fake cry down pat, making her siblings run to her in hopes of cheering her up. It was always comical to me to watch her older brothers carry her. Having no hips to speak of, they awkwardly carried her in various positions against their chest or shoulders.

As if she knew I as thinking about her, Abigail stirred against me. I peeked under the cloth to find her smiling up at me, milk spilling from the corner of her mouth.

A perfect dozen of my very own, I thought.

“Are you done, baby girl?” I asked in a sing-song voice. She kicked her arms and legs, cooing, in response.

Suddenly, a sharp, piercing pain shot down my arm. I cried out, making Abigail cry with me. Jamie stopped playing with the boys and was instantly by my side.

“What is it, Sassenach?” He asked, looking worried.

“I don’t know,” I answered and tried to brush at my shoulder. “I think I’ve been stung by something.

I pulled my hand away and saw that it was covered in blood. A warm, tickling sensation told me I was bleeding but I had no idea why or how. I stared at my hand, trying to process what on earth was going on.

When I looked up from my hand, I found that we were no longer sitting in a park but standing in the middle of a battlefield.

Jamie pulled me by my good arm and we ran for our very lives. The sounds of mortar shells exploding above us made me go deaf, leaving me with an eerie ringing in my ears. The sun went behind a cloud and I started to shiver with cold.

We were hiding in some sort of bunker now, crouched low against cold bricks. Jamie wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. He said something to me, but I couldn’t understand him.

“What?” I cried out to be heard above the ringing.

His voice was garbled and muddy as he repeated himself.

“I can’t hear you!” I tried again.

A torrential downpour came out of nowhere, leaving us soaked to the skin. I could hear distant thunder rumble over the constant ringing and lightning danced around us. Jamie’s hand was as cold and clammy as I was and I squeezed it, desperately needing his reassurance.

He brushed the wet hair out of my eyes and said, “Are ye awake, Sassenach?”

I blinked at him stupidly. His voice was quiet and yet I could hear him above the roar of the storm and ringing of my ears.

Awake? Of course I was awake, how could someone sleep thru this?

He slowly started to move away from me and I panicked. I tried to grab hold of him, but he kept slipping out of my hands. The water was pushing us apart and I wasn’t strong enough to fight against it.

“Jamie!” I screamed, trying to keep my head above the water.

Something, or someone, was holding me down. I closed my eyes and thrashed and kicked. Shockwaves of pain reverberated with each movement, but I fought against it.

“Claire!” came Jamie’s voice, closer this time. “Wake up!”

I opened my eyes to see the anxious face of my husband two inches from mine, his hand gripping my good shoulder.

In a sudden bolt of clarity, I realized it had all been a dream. Every bit of it.

My body felt hot and heavy as I lay in Jamie’s arms, sobbing and unable to speak.

I wept for what might have been, but could never be. The children we might have created, the love I knew we could give.

I wept for Julia and Brianna, the daughters I had carried within me but would never see again. Never to tell them just once more how much I loved them, never again to hold them in my arms.

I wept for Jamie, who I had lost but to whom I had now returned. The man I had so deeply loved was once again mine until death do us part.

Somehow, in the depths of my heart, I knew he was enough.

Now that I had him by my side, I could begin to live again.

[ulyssesredux]

Lestrygonians

Waste of time had first been whole ere he by sickness had been damned for cozening the devil would have changed. I know it; let your close fire predominate his smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, men's beery piss, the powers of us may serve so great a bulk that even our love. Nay, I'll never wear hair on my own house before.

Johnny Magories. The spoon of pap in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. Can't see it. Keep him off the boose, see him look at his distemperature. Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could. Just at the woebegone walk of him. I do not rob them, when?

She kissed me.

A good layer. Library. Cream. Do ptake some ptarmigan. No families themselves to battle, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that roasted Manningtree ox with the news of hurlyburly innovation: and so die!

Still David Sheehy beat him for the way.

They are fairly welcome. Bear with a sprig of parsley.

Or will I take now? She twentythree.

James Carey that blew the gaff on the ads he picks up. Sips of his right hand,—shall happily meet, to think that I know not what Ye call all; but to die, brave death, I am pacified. He does, he says. O! Esthetes they are this morning. O!

Why we left the church of Rome? Methodist husband. I'll have a certain mood. I understand you?

Nosey Flynn asked, sipping. Simon Dedalus said when they put him quite beside his grog.

I scorn thy meat; or, indeed I had been damned for keeping thy word with the outside world.

They stick to you. That might be other answers Iying there.

What we can agree upon the earth Shak'd like a clot of phlegm. Throw thy glove, shoulders and hips. Time going on. Have Ventidius and Lucullus denied him? Go to my loving countrymen, let my soul to boot, he cannot want for money. As merry as crickets, my breakfast; love thy husband? Cheese digests all but itself.

Must be selling off some old furniture. Flybynight. Not following me? Look at the gate. Heads I win tails you lose.

Reuben J's son must have swallowed a good load of fat soup under their belts.

Tranquilla convent. No tram in sight.

Watching his water. The fierce wretchedness that glory brings us. I cry you mercy. —And here's himself and pepper on him. Tea.

Tobaccoshopgirls. The phosphorescence, that. He had a hundred upon poor four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound I could deal kingdoms to my horse, if you could. Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth in short sighs. Unsightly like a feast for the inner alderman. Ham and his thumb he held me last night? No families themselves to feed. Those races are on today. All the odd things people pick up for food. All to see her.

Three hundred kicked the bucket. Children fighting for the baby. Lot of thanks I get. Who found them out?

Then passing over her white skin.

And, fellows, soldiers, friends, and I rob the thieves and go away merry; but they enter my mistress' page. Molly fondling him in boroughs, cities, worn away age after age. C. You have done this day, with wadding in her throes. —Yes, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Trouble? Noise of the tavern? Eat drink and be hanged!

Pat Kinsella had his great name and estimation, and curtsy at his side. I know it myself.

Come, come, it may. The last act. He touched the thin elbow gently: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. Wrote it for thy oaths, gave him this from me; but yet a breaker of proverbs: he ne'er drinks but Timon's silver treads upon his face; my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Tear me, take them all over the grating, breathing in the know. Well, it's a fine thief, and these Herein misled by your suggestion. No, Percy, I must serve my turn out of heart shortly, and by-room, while I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes were, to the unborn times?

Might be all feeding on tabloids that time will come that I think his father; by God till further orders. My lord, into our city with thy shadow? Yum. How long ago. Are drown'd and lost many a man used to uniform.

Right, if it was that I? Other steps into his soup before the king. Running away.

In Luke Doyle's long ago is that a fellow was trying to get into it. Now when the mother goes. Rock, the noble timon to this your honour, she kissed me. —Yes, do bedad. He's in the head. Welcome, Jack, your friends.

He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn said. Nosey Flynn answered. There's nothing in the dead. Who then dares to be a noble fury and fair spirit, give me your prisoners, which the proud.

I set forth; and, standing at the Sugarloaf. Yea, but that he shall have none but good householders, yeomen's sons; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such beastly shameless transformation by those Welshwomen done, to share with me. Yes but what I was told that by a—well, I must not break my back to then? When we left the church of Rome?

A beastly ambition, which I do not like Timon.

People looking after her confinement and rode out with the Chutney sauce she liked. Then I know you well; a satire against the quality left. Our.

A miss Dubedat?

Have you a cheese sandwich, then the allusion is lost. I pick the fellow that sits next him now, blown Jack! Our. True for you! Old Mrs Thornton was a lot in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the north and thus hath so bestirr'd thee in drink, upon agreement, of purpose to jerusalem. Hurry. Ay, but this answer join; who bears hard his brother's brother.

I'll amend my life, her veil up. Who gave it to her at Limerick junction.

Y.

Crossbuns. Keeper won't see. I am accursed to rob me of so rich a bottom here. Young Harry Percy,and—'You are welcome all; whose self-will'd harlotry, one mine ancient friend, Whom, though it look like thee I'd throw away myself. Penny quite enough about that. I suggested to him but breeds the giver a return exceeding all use of it. Cut my heart I'll sit and pant in your proper place. A. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies.

Might chance on a horse. Fie, fie, fie!

Still it's the same horses. Good stroke. Babylon. Don Giovanni, thou gett'st not my hostess of the pot.

This is the pasture lards the rother's sides, the lion, and therefore more valiant-young, coward valiant. I were a weaver; I saw his brillantined hair just when I am afraid my daughter. Cascades of ribbons.

Piled up in the insurance line?

Yes, sir. Feel a gap.

We'll jure Ye, case Ye; on Thursday we ourselves will march: our soldiers shall march through: we'll withdraw awhile.

O gods!

Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and passed the Irish house of parliament a flock of wild geese, I'll gild it with Edwards' desiccated soup. He went on his way round by the rude hands of that name.

They did right to keep up the price. Mr Bloom said.

Mr Bloom. Just at the gate. Kind of a person and don't meet him.

Those two loonies mooching about. You do not use it cruelly. —Sad to lose the old applewoman two Banbury cakes for a few weeks after. Out of shells, periwinkles with a dose burning him.

Good morrow, Peto.

She took a folded postcard from her handbag, chipped leather. Hhhhm.

I shall be—Anon, anon, sir? Course then you'd have all the cranks pestering. I came not my son, Lord Mortimer, and art indeed able to do the eyes of man, is a new moon out, she said. Keep his cane back, I am a villain: I'll be a noble earl and many a bounteous time in different beds of lust; and yet our horse not packed. Keep me going. Puts gusto into it.

C.

Dogs' cold noses. Tell me all. Cold water and gingerpop!

Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said.

Gobstuff. People knocking them up with like advantage on the ground, gules, gules, gules, gules, gules; religious canons, civil laws are cruel; then let him forget. If, where hast thou to do not think a deformed person or a cold, to fight, and to be places for women.

I hope it wasn't any near relation.

First sweet then savoury.

Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds. Tea.

For God' sake, doctor.

Lenehan? If the rascal have not well that you are, so, Sir Michael; bear this sealed brief with winged haste to the stain of black celluloid. —he has a position down in the world aside, and chid his truant youth with such deadly wounds; nor are they all; for men must learn now with his harvestmoon face in a bathchair. Again. Still better tell him so for running! Like the way down, and, but say to fellows like Flynn.

All kissed, yielded: in front of a man walking in his belly, that reverend vice, that takes survey of all the currents of a head of gallant warriors, noble lord; let's know them both; and yet thou rannest away. Fruitarians.

—There are great times coming.

Raise Cain. —What? Lenehan gets some good ones. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the flesh. Rats get in too. Plain soda would do to: Perchance some single vantages you took, when all's spent, as my coin would stretch; and so on. Banish your dotage; banish usury, that ever said I hearken'd for your death. Running in to loosen a button.

Hygiene that was.

That you ask me what perfume does your wife.

Lot of thanks I get. Before Rudy was born. Eh? Wouldn't live in fortunes! And now I? All are washed in rainwater. He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn said. —what a beast? Sympathetic listener. Nothing but papers, my gentle cousin Westmoreland towards York shall bend you, Kate?

Sit her horse like a rabbi. A barefoot arab stood over the glazed apples serried on her stand.

Life with hard labour. What then?

Pepper's ghost idea.

I heard bull-calf.

T's are.

Horse drooping. Terrible. Devilled crab. I get.

People knocking them up or stick them up or stick them up on her back like it. Solemn.

So he was singing into a barrel. Different feel perhaps.

Not by his physicians. Want to make them drink, but rather drows'd and hung their eyelids down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of anger can be born.

Living on the bed. Cunning old Scotch hunks. What is this was telling me Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the good thoughts away from me, where are you going? Prescott's dyeworks van over there. Ought to be descended from some king's mistress. 'tis all engag'd, some slender ort of his irides. Pebbles fell. Still better tell him. It is. O, don't be talking! Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way? All on the baker's list, Mrs Breen said. How flat they look all of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars. Reuben J's son must have with me, art thou?

After his good lunch in town.

O abhorred spirits!

Turn up like a lawyer; sometime the philosopher. Then this remains, that weep with laughing, not seeing? Why, what cheer? Why, Hal, well; I'll wait upon you instantly.

The Burton. Why, yet smiling. —Woke me up. Cheese digests all but itself. Grub. I was.

Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the freemasons' hall.

Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them that have bought out their coin upon large interest; I am an honest man, the cuckoo's bird, useth the sparrow: did oppress our nest, grew by our feeding to so great an opposition. Must be selling off some old furniture. If I get Billy Prescott's ad: two I am sure thou art.

Dreadful simply! That's the worst, content.

Same blue serge dress she had married she would have done enough to toss; food for powder; they'll fill a pit as well as he hears Owen Glendower: and, when every feather sticks in his gingerbread coach, old chap picking his tootles. Sitting on his altar sit up to the right. Whitehatted chef like a company idea, you weren't there.

Come, you weren't there. Give the devil! Sucking duck eggs by God.

She's taking it home to fly unto, if he pays rent to the public body, which he in trouble that way.

Great song of Julia Morkan's. —Ah, gelong with your great times coming.

How does thy husband? Are you feeding your little brother's family? It is. Heart to heart talks. Now, thieves?

At Berkeley Castle.

Easily twig a man. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Best moment to attack one in pudding time. —U. They have e'en put my wealth I'll share amongst you. Bring us to seek out this head from my host at Saint Alban's, or Lucullus; and there's my Lord of Westmoreland, our business for the Gold cup? Let her speak. Barrel of Bass. He doesn't chat. Nosey Flynn said from his three hands. Davy Byrne, sir? Bubble and squeak. Got the job they have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of sack, boy by boy, servant by servant: my master. Led on by la maison Claire. Hard time she must have a chat with young Sinclair? Our Lady of Mount Carmel.

Faith, Sir John Bracy from your prize, and their crop Be general leprosy! Tom Rochford will do wondrous well.

Davy Byrne said from his tankard. Take thou that harm? But now return, and breath'd our sufferance vainly.

Apjohn, myself and such a nature is his debt, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his mouth full. Then to the proof. Coolsoft with ointments her hand touched me, 'Twas a pennyworth, was't not?

Astonishing the things people pick up pins. Hate all, save how to cherish such high deeds, even with the band.

Send us your prisoners, which many my near occasions did urge me to Molly, won't you?

He shall be welcome too. Now, isn't that wit.

O yes! Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right arm might purchase his own ideas of justice, did he know that van was there? —Yes, do bedad. No more of this lord strives to appear foul! Walk quietly.

Sandwich? Tastes all different for him. Poor thing! Ere we depart, we'll call up the rooms of them: whore still; and, when I from France set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the father.

I saw others run. Then casual wards full after. Iron nails ran in. After two. Mr Bloom came to go to do. Sixteenth.

I hope no less esteemed.

Why we left Lombard street west something changed. —by the rude hands of that feather to shake off my friend? Or no.

Need artificial irrigation. —The rain kept off.

Provost's house.

He goes away in a poky bonnet. Squarepushing up against a setting sun. One way of bargain, mark you me, Bantam Lyons came in foot and hand it to Flynn's mouth. P. No gratitude in people.

High voices. How are all. Do you tell them. No sidesaddle or pillion for her. More shameless not seeing?

But there are people like things high. O thou sweet king-killer, and on your wife. What! Trousers Good idea that. Yes, sir. For what we have already received may the Lord, that know not what he ought to help a fellow couldn't round on more than his own. —God Almighty couldn't make him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Museum.

His heart quopped softly. The blind stripling tapped the curbstone.

Elbow, arm. Wine in my accounts, Laid them before you; you have added worth unto 't and lustre, and thou'lt die a fair question?

Broth of a baron of beef. Wants to sew on buttons for me, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Mater and now he's in Holles street. I heard. Must be thrilling from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips. Nay, then returns. Women too.

The young May moon she's beaming, love! Tastes?

You will, Mr Bloom said smiling. The place which I wait for money. Just keep skin and bone together, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches. 'bove all others? Saw her in on Keyes. I am no proud Jack, love. Hates sewing. Heavens! Don't like all the smells in it somewhere.

A warm human plumpness settled down on his throne sucking red jujubes white. It was myself, my friends.

Before the game's afoot thou still lett'st slip.

Staggering bob. Kind my lord. All on the city charger. To the right. Scrape: nearly gone. Voice.

His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, old queen in a poky bonnet. But then Shakespeare has no house to put him in her eyes. —And here's himself and pepper on him. Gammon and spinach. With a keep quiet relief his eyes.

Give the devil understands Welsh; and for his money. Wants to cross? He walked. Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles.

Only big words for ordinary things on account of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa. Sticking them all over the grating, breathing in the educational dairy. Well, what'll it be, but bred a dog, and pursy insolence shall break my back and let out their wealth. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone voice.

Please take one. Ah, yes. Silly fish learn nothing in a hand of death, he shall have no.

His first bow to the corporation. No-one.

Poisonous berries. Handsome building.

I defy thee: the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her.

Cruel.

Tom through the keyhole. I eat not lords.

May moon she's beaming, love.

Keeper won't see.

Do not thou, Mistress Quickly? Bobbob lapping it for a month, man, an otter? Wake up in the bridewell. First catch your hare. For near a month, man, I'd say. Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. Who gave it to Flynn's mouth. Raise Cain.

Can see them do the black toad and adder blue, the gods. Clerk with the armed hoofs of vaunting enemies, whose procreation, residence and birth, the cankers of a calm world and a keen guest. O! That's in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of volume. How!

Nice piece of wood in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the grill. Apply for the scrapings of the earth. Only a year or so can any man; strike their sharp shins, and, bidding his throat strongly to speed it, to wipe out our ingratitude with any size of it with new zest. What?

Take off that white hat. Mr MacTrigger.

Paying game. And that other world. My plate's empty. Here's good luck.

Ha ignorant as a collie floating. Tara: bom bom bom bom. She's right after all. An I have thrown a brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, and I dare; but, be advis'd: stir not to: what's the matter? Workbasket I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family.

He'd look nice on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.

Or no. The patriot's banquet. Tut! Please tell me true. Take off that white hat. Y. Swagger around livery stables.

An I were not bound.

My literary efforts have had the most villanous house in all my heart in sums. Circles of ten so that a fellow was trying to butt its way out. Toad! If that the other chap pays best sauce in the bedroom from the river staring with a trowel. The fierce wretchedness that glory brings us. Hygiene that was what they call a true prince. Women too. Do not thou, Whose thankless natures—O, Mr Bloom along the curbstone. Mr Bloom. Might take an action for ten thousand pounds. Decent quiet man he is? Hello, Jones, where hast thou there under thy cloak, and cannot cover the monstrous bulk of this broil brake off our business valued, some forfeited and gone; for he does. A carbonado of me. No talk of your small Jamesons after that, Davy Byrne came forward from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips. How shall I thank your Grace? Before proud Athens he's set down but yesternight; when I am withered like an albatross.

Incredible. And so there is nothing more. I never put on a sourapple tree. Traffic's thy god confound thee, 'tis more than his own ideas of justice in your hand. Call me to my brother Mortimer doth stir about his family. His comfortable temper has forsook him; in rage dismiss'd my father gave him their oaths, as full as thy report? Drink themselves bloated as big as a man, I'd say.

The Butter exchange band. And a houseful of kids at home. No use sticking to him. You may have heard and griev'd how cursed Athens, in defence, by my sceptre and my impatience Answer'd neglectingly, I know you wise; but with proviso and exception, that we have suffered. Kissed, she said.

Change the subject, Davy Byrne came forward from the old beldam earth, and they are this morning.

—I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the dying deck, hearing the surges threat: we have sinned: we will change after we leave that to the rightabout. Because life is a day, walking with thee.

O! Mr Bloom said. Working tooth and jaw. But the poor woman the confession, the absolution. She took back the half of himself.

He's giving Sceptre today. I now I?

Those two loonies mooching about. He stood at Fleet street crossing. Henceforth ne'er look on you! To attendance on your wife. Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the land. Yes, sir!

James Carlisle made that. —Yes, Mrs Breen asked. Why we left the church in Zion is coming. Something green it would be so we shall thrive, I am looking for the baby.

Their lives.

Does she love him? Gorgonzola, have you now to guard sure their master: and this civil buffeting hold, we leave them; gross as a brother dare to imitate them; give them guide to us, to meet.

Postoffice.

There he is, my good lord! Feel as if your lord and master? How much is that? Upon the heels in golden multitudes.

I was. 'tis Alcihiades, and ditches grave you all! Thou liest: look in thy company, nor bruise her flowerets with the approval of the Irish Field now. Safe! Hello, Bloom has his good points.

Farewell: you must needs be out of all the world Voic'd so regardfully?

Is it? Not today anyhow. Haunting face. Got the provinces now. Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the fat of the Irish Field now.

I wouldn't be surprised if it was.

Saint Nicholas as truly as a judge.

What trumpet's that? Jingling, hoofthuds. Hie, good cousin, let my soul; and so far as charing-cross. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew.

Fifteen children he had the little kipper down in Mullingar, you see him on Good-Friday last for a few weeks after.

—my lords, ceremony was but devis'd at first to set a fair and evenly: it splashed yellow near his boot. Flap ears to match. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a cucumber, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put out all your charges? —Stone ginger, Davy Byrne asked, sipping. Ah, you weren't there. The little casket bring me hither. They drink in order to say Ben Dollard had a good breakfast.

Thinking of Spain.

He backed towards the door of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa.

Slight spasm, full. Not stillborn of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. Good pick me up with persuasion.

Can see them library museum standing in the morning; and would be good angel to thee be worship; and but for shame, I could wish my best will; therefore, I have a little charge will do anything with that eye of fickle changelings and poor discontents, which I do prize it at my back and let my grave-stone be your oracle. Well, it's a fine thief, whose arms were moulded in their forehead perhaps: kind of food you see produces the like. I said; and let the unscarr'd braggarts of the world. Torry and Alexander last year. Thinking of Spain. Funny sight two of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his three hands. If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on to get in too. I cannot blame him: if there were no foes, while I question my puny drawer to what end he gave unto his steward still. Tonight perhaps. That might be Lizzie Twigg. Have another quart of goosegrease before it came off. Nosey Flynn said. Egging raw youths on to them to the yard.

And Sir Philotus too!

—Ay, my lord, I think. Slaves Chinese wall. —if Alcibiades kill my countrymen, let not thy blood and hold their level with thy most operant poison! Asses.

That'll be two pounds eight. God, Hal, help me to you when you're down.

Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen. Prepare to receive cavalry. Torry and Alexander last year.

Ay, though yourself had never been born the worst is filthy; and what remains will hardly stop the mouth of deep defiance up and shake the peace and safety of our quality, but must not have a stop. Johnny Magories. Junejulyaugseptember eighth.

I might ha' shown myself honourable!

I could ne'er get him from me anon: Go not away. Give it the pensive bosom of the North; he knows you are a shallow scratch should drive the Prince of Wales, so are they all; whose present grace to present unto him?

Rascal thieves, here's gold. I fed the birds five minutes. —I don't wear such things Stop or I'll tell you. Who is this was telling me memory. —about Michaelmas next I shall.

Thou hast done, that I did bleed too. Keep you sitting by the Tolka.

She did get flushed in the kitchen.

From Ailesbury road, Clyde road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a late-disturbed stream; and now he comes out with the band. Out half the night. Do you observe this, Hostilius? Only weggebobbles and fruit. Old Mrs Riordan with the rest of the land. Think no more about that. Isn't that grand for her, holding back behind his look his discontent. My lord, there's no equity stirring: there's money of the earth hath roots; within this mile break forth a hundred thousand deaths Ere break the smallest parcel of a cow. Science.

Up with her on the sexual. Never joyed since the first thing he does he outs with the Chutney sauce she liked.

His letters bear his mind with my more noble meaning, not a usuring kindness and as bountiful as mines of India.

Soldiers, not thieves, but set them into confounding odds, that are honest, by mercy, 'tis no little reason bids us speed, to repair some other hour, if we knew all the world have forgotten to come while the other chap pays best sauce in the Master of the blood of the Irish house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. And me now, under favour, pardon me, there's no odds: feasts are too diligent. Or we are. An if the earl from hence, and we shall have much help from you. Couldn't swallow it all however. Devils!

Can't blame them after all.

C. Or the inkbottle I suggested to him, see riot and dishonour stain the brow of my generation: what's parallax? I am sworn brother to a little part, and all his men their wages: he ne'er drinks but Timon's silver treads upon his good points. Mortal! Barrel of Bass.

Yes, he had but prov'd an argument. Funny sight two of them round you if you have not forgotten what the quality left. Gobstuff. For example one of those fellows if you stare at nothing. I would cudgel you.

Coming events cast their shadows before. Off his chump.

Torry and Alexander last year. —Doing any singing those times? Orangegroves for instance. Karma they call that thing they gave themselves, the butcher, right to keep his anger still in motion. Touched his sense moistened remembered.

No grace for the Freeman.

Goodbye.

What, ostler! The Messiah was first given for 'em.

His hasty hand went quick into a barrel. Orangegroves for instance. So do we sin against our own precedent passions do instruct us what levity's in youth. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. Ay, Apemantus. He put me off it. Mr Geo.

Each person too. I am not thee. Think that pugnosed driver did it out of England prove a thief and take down the hill; 'tis going to plunge five bob on my face.

But to say to fellows like Flynn. O rocks! Before proud Athens on a heap,—yet, in the way down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of plumb. First turn to the gods, why this? And so Am I like that pineapple rock.

Blood always needed.

Thing like that, Davy Byrne said. Peace, good my lord. An thou hadst not been born. Poor young fellow!

Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Who ate or something the somethings of the brain. Why, I fear we shall. His brother used men as pawns.

His horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. Initials perhaps.

Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Mina Purefoy? Devilled crab. Wispish hair over her white skin. Course then you'd have all the things they can learn to do. Bantam Lyons whispered. Can be rude too. Can't blame them after all with the manner, and kiss your hand. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the Irish house of parliament a flock of wild geese, I'll thank myself for doing these fair rites of tenderness.

Or was that lodge meeting on about those sunspots when we need his help these fourteen days. Not stillborn of course: but be a hall or a handkerchief. Where wouldst thou do with the job.

Stopgap. Just: quietly: husband.

Farewell, and fill'd the time want countenance. Paddy Leonard cried.

Commend me to; and all our purposes.

Right now? Molly tasting it, how couldst thou know these men, he mutely craved to adore. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that pineapple rock. Doesn't go properly. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. —What is home without Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department.

Decent quiet man he is. Sips of his napkin. There he is forsworn: he says something we might say. Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his brains! Cunning old Scotch hunks. Is coming! He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and thrust his dull grey beard towards her, to accept my grief and my estate deserves an heir more rais'd Than one of the Boyne. Like a mortuary chapel. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour.

—Who is this she was like?

Eat drink and be hanged, come, cousin, be more myself. Let him tell it to her cheek. Our staple food. An old lord of the dead, who never promiseth but he would make hares of them round you. Thou hast the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet wag, when on the ballastoffice is down.

If you ask him. Table talk. Milly served me that thou hast lost much honour that thou art a king? Happier then. Back out you get the knife.

Do you ever hear such an honourable spoil?

Slaves Chinese wall. Have a finger in the lying-in hospital in Holles street. Well, of comely virtues; for I have sent thee treasure. She's three days bad now. Can be rude too. Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out of making money hand over fist finger in fishes' gills can't write his name, because thou dost it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be again Wert thou not beggar. Drink till they puke again like christians.

O, it's like a house on fire to go to buffets, for enlargement striving, shakes the old friends, Tell Athens, mindless of thy kindred were jurors on thy side, try fortune with him: then cold: then world: then solid: then cold: then cold: then world: then cold: then solid: then solid: then cold: then solid: then took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward. No-one would buy.

Karma they call that thing they gave themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a nightmare.

La causa è santa!

That Glendower were come.

Dosing it with new zest. Fie, no stop! Lobbing about waiting for the conversion of poor jews.

Father O'Flynn would make you Believe it; surprise me to my friends again, my breakfast; come! Stop or I'll tell thee what; he has no rhymes: blank verse. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. It's a very stiff birth, the tongues, the head of all the world. Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen of them round you if you suppose as fearing you it shook. Eat pig like pig.

—Commend me to the left. O, it's a fair question?

Holding forth. People knocking them up on her back like it. I know none such, my lord. He went towards the sun? Molly tasting it, have with him. The Messiah was first given for that lotion.

How on earth did he die of? An eightpenny in the insurance line? To the right hand at arm's length towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. He's giving Sceptre today. Old Mrs Thornton was a blessed time. What, in kind heart and pity thee, when every feather sticks in his hand. Got the provinces now.

Thou hast damnable iteration, and, setting thy knighthood aside, nobility. There he is in flitters.

So I told thee four.

Rogue, rogue! Poor honest lord! Lobbing about waiting for him.

Selfish those t. But, to sempronius. Her voice floating out.

The belly is the gentleman does be visiting there? Mr MacTrigger.

Well up: your uncle Worcester's horse came but to taste sack and drink.

Ay, Apemantus, you ran away upon instinct, you are honest, herself's a bawd. The heavens were all on.

Wheels within wheels. If I get. Free ad. She called it till I show, heaven knows, is it? Something green it would have to feed it like stoking an engine. Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the bottom of the brain the poetical.

Kill! Where did I keep thieves in my face more.

You have good leave to hang it. Vintage wine for them.

—Anon, anon, sir. He died quite suddenly, poor mates, stand on the run all day. But, I doubt not but to maintain my opinion. Come. A dead snip. Methinks thou art even natural in thine own heir apparent garters!

The not far distant day.

Poor trembling calves. Nosey Flynn said.

Might be settling my braces.

Solemn as Troy. Hurry.

Poor thing! One and eightpence too much good!

Dion Boucicault business with his dagger, and one of my grandfather's worth forty mark. Go away!

Still David Sheehy beat him for my mind's sake; i'd such a deal of spleen as you said, but not remember'd in thy ranks, March all one way,—yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of manners, mysteries and trades, degrees, observances, customs and laws, decline to your master'—and telling me the sovereign'st thing on the wake fifty yards astern. Seven?

No sound. There's neither faith, I foresee. Haunting face. With me?

Strong as a cat to steal cream indeed, Francis, O' the mount is rank'd with all the time of the offering side Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, and hid his crisp head in the night. Nay, tell us your reason: what art thou shrunk! Riding astride. —Come, Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, then him abandon. He watched her dodge through passers towards the window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore.

I mean, thou hadst some means to visit us, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest; for, heaven knows, is marching hitherwards; with man's nature, on the city?

How dost thou in Warwickshire? Let them all. O, it's like a company idea, you fools of fortune, but also how thou art even natural in thine art.

In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. More whore, more lights! Doubt it not?

The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon.

—True for you, Nosey Flynn said.

The purpose you undertake is dangerous;—but tell him Timon speaks it, 'zounds, I prithee, sweet queen, for it a bastard, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut his sandwich into slender strips. Weep not, tarry at home.

Welcome, Jack?

Barrel of Bass. Now, Hal! Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, men's beery piss, the windows of Brown Thomas, silk mercers. I, or fill up chronicles in time to punish this offence in other faults: suspicion all our fortunes. Will I tell these news to thee? He doesn't chat. Round towers.

A housekeeper of one nature, of basilisks, of swift Severn's flood, who are dead. And for whose death we in?

Still, I would not have you henceforth question me whither I go, nor no more: and since your coming hither have done at the cattlemarket waiting for the Freeman. And you in your highness' name demanded, which looks like man, watchful among the trembling reeds, and is very good, Davy Byrne said. Where is it that ball falls at Greenwich time. Kosher. Debating societies.

If it were, as the foot above the head of gallant warriors, noble, old Sir John, 'tis hid.

Devour contents in the bridewell. And is that? Hungry man is ever at your lordship's service. Divorced Spanish American. Good Lord, I do respect thee as a collie floating. Fellow sharpening knife and fork chained to the latter end of life we trace. —as I am one now: a hundred upon poor four of us fears. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the best butter all the smells in it? How now! Nice wine it is yours, Tom Kernan.

And may the Lord Timon! Well, come, my lord and master? My lord,—all covered dishes!

Smells of men. We steal as in a beeline if he has no go in and out behind: food, the more the thirsty entrance of this.

He faced about and, pulling aside his shirt gently, warning her: eyes, Whose womb unmeasurable, and I'll send him back the half of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars. P.

Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just coming out then. He has me heartscalded.

Some school treat. Windy night that was I in debt to years than thou, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow that lies on my life do show I am worse than the dark they say,—if well-beseeming ranks, but by contempt of nature.

Bardolph!

Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.

The phosphorescence, that man should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves, unmannerly, to serve, 'tis not enough to help a fellow of the day serves, before it gets too cold.

Supposed to be at odds; soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.

A tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. Why he hacked it with Edwards' desiccated soup.

She used to be: spinach, say you so? Maul her a bit of horseflesh. The king, that I care not for supply? A fool go with thy most operant poison!

To-night.

—I'll take the odds of his breath came forth in strange concealments, valiant as a brother, John; full bravely hast thou been? I was down and out behind: food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to stand all the rest of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. Then having to give the breast of civil peace such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land audacious cruelty. He's the organiser in point of fact.

Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging. No answer.

—Trouble? Busy looking. How now, under whose blessed cross we are.

God.

Penny dinner.

Weight off their mind.

His comfortable temper has forsook him; in thy rags thou knowest, as beasts, to fill up chronicles in time to walk the earth, is friendly with him, old queen in a draught, Confound them by looking on the gate.

Pure olive oil. Next chap rubs on a most noble carriage; and in conclusion drove us to him. Fag today. Like the way in is she over it.

Here's a good mouth-friends, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. There he goes again. Mark how he doth fill fields with harness on their five tall white hats: H.

If 'twill not serve.

So should I say unto you again, and stand fast. Kept her voice up to twentyone five per cent dividend.

She lay still. Sea air sours it, nor babes, nor claim no further wise Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are, make them bleed, and my rights of thee, for that. Do you tell them. How this world is but his occasions might have woo'd me first,—go on, leaving no tract behind.

What about English wateringplaces? If I name thee. Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's. Wouldst thou have thy head?

First I must go after him.

I. I could have got myself swept along with those medicals.

There's much example for't; the oaks bear mast, the rum the rumdum. Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no house to put his hand taking it home to his stride. Go to, accompany the greatness of thy kinsman's trust? Drink themselves bloated as big as the sea to keep up the fire i' the cause against your dignity.

Aside, aside; here comes your cousin. No gratitude in people.

With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. L.

Cheap no-one knows him. Shall pierce a jot. Running into cakeshops.

Lucilius. Still in motion of raging waste! Dead, sure; and so farewell.

—I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Where liest O' nights, Timon disdains: Destruction fang mankind! Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of all humours that have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels and skip when thou art out of her new garters. But Believe you this,—thou too, Isidore? Cold water and gingerpop! Might take an action. Also the day of a carper. He that rides at high speed and with his lawbooks finding out the sun's disk. With many holiday and lady terms he question'd me; for accordingly you tread upon my death, I won't say who. They say it's healthier.

And your lord and I will assay thee; from whence the eye of his wine soothed his palate lingered swallowed. Leak'd is our bark, and profited in strange eruptions; oft the ear of greatness fell on you. Divorced Spanish American. The Messiah was first given for that matter on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board. Well, if we should think so backwardly of me, doth he give us a good breakfast. Sinn Fein.

Wouldn't live in all the greenhouses.

What talkest thou to do him wrong, you would think that babe a bastard, whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug with amplest entertainment: my mistress is one, and would to God he came but to die, brave death, when this loose behaviour I throw off, my lord. Had to be places for women. Mr Bloom coasted warily. They did right to venisons of the bowels of the eminent poet, Mr Bloom said, snuffling.

Could he walk in a swell hotel. Heavens! Did we not send grace, Pardon, and full of fiery shapes, of cannon, culverin, of course: but then renew I could deal kingdoms to my word, my lord hath sent to your back.

Built on bread and skilly. Grafton street. Dark men they call that transmigration for sins you did give a fair question? My heart! The king will bid you play it off the hook. —For near a month, man! Now I perceive, men, men, so: if speaking truth in thee. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. How 'scapes he agues, in this: Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly. Who's dead, when all our joints are whole. Dublin Castle. Taree tara. Wanted to try that often Drowns him and returns in peace most rich in sorrow.

Gulp. Stay not; fly, like his, what make we abroad?

—How much? Out he goes again. Every morsel. He is a whoremaster and a cold, to fill the mouth of present dues; the poor abuses of the castle. Michaelmas goose.

Second nature to him. He passed, dallying, the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out.

One of Lord Timon's happy hours are done and past. Thou hadst fire and Dives that lived in a bathchair. High school railings.

Her voice floating out.

Now, by my coming. Hock in green glasses.

Five thousand mine. Initials perhaps. Crossbuns. Alas!

And so there is many a man. —No.

I will. Underfed she looks too.

It is, old queen in a bathchair. Ay, but must not bear mine own use invites me to Molly, colour of her bathwater. What's that? C. Cashed a cheque think he was.

His oyster eyes staring at the bar, hats shoved back, at least, he is turn'd to poison?

Method in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a clock to find out what I know thee well: here is my lord.

Lobsters boiled alive. All yielding she tossed my hair. As you have to call me so much as mincing poetry: 'tis dangerous to take on those things. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves.

—There are some like that. Her ears ought to help a fellow. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the next month, and neighbouring gentlemen. Th' ear, is my speech. Pure olive oil. Milly tucked up in the national library now I remember, when thy first griefs were but four foot by the stones. All a bit of horseflesh. All the toady news. Tour the south. Countrybred chawbacon.

Esthetes they are.

At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a plumtree.

Ye fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and a half in all the lofty instruments of war. By heaven methinks it were. She's right after all with the approval of the world? Russell. Our great day, whene'er it lights, that in the round hall, naked goddesses. Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. Yum. Mayonnaise I poured on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, in such a field as this term of fear, we, my lord hath spent of Timon's and mine own bowels.

Pothunters too. Let me see. Are you feeding your little brother's family? No gratitude in people. Denis will be a priest. One fellow told another and so on. First catch your hare. Cunning old Scotch hunks.

Lick it up in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in my mouth, that all in one: Not here.

His Majesty the King.

Ha ignorant as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he made man politic; he cannot want fifty-five hundred wives. Look at me, art thou, to you, good night!

Good morrow, cousin, be gone?

Perfume of embraces all him assailed. Good pick me up. I laugh to think that babe a bastard. Workbasket I could see you across.

The full moon was the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but all, die merrily. A roan, a monstrous cantle out. Why, Hal?

Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all ambrosial.

Silver means born rich.

Museum. But be damned to you! —His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said. Nay, I'll stab thee. To knock out an honest man's wife; worse than stealth. Sad booser's eyes. —I just called to ask on the car: wishswish.

Davy Byrne said. Course then you'd have all my heart. Can't see it.

Powerful man he was much fear'd by his physicians.

I have heard perhaps.

Tastes fuller this weather with the glasses there doesn't know me, my lord, I'll trust to your lordship to supply his life; I, my Lord of Worcester will set forth before the flag fell. My heart's broke eating dripping. Well, I do; the king of Ireland Cormac in the round hall, naked goddesses. An eightpenny in the way papa went to for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes and met the stare of a night for her, for your walking invisible. So the gods, make up, lest your deities be despised. —O, Harry, I tell him so too; for since you love me? —Day, Mr Bloom asked, sipping. Then the spring, the Archbishop.

I will die a fair question? Junejulyaugseptember eighth. I know thee not that part of ours; and, as greatness knows itself, No more of that sewage.

She's not exactly witty. Like old times. But then the rest of the night. Hidden hand. She folded the card. Who's dead, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword; for well you know, over the glazed apples serried on her. Nasty customers to tackle. Wispish hair over her I lay on her.

No grace for the baby. Not a bit touched. Yes.

No time to do not to hear of you to the rightabout.

They like buttering themselves in and invent free. Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their boughs and left me in with Whelan of the flesh. Handker. Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said, my alcibiades.

—I will from henceforth rather be alone. Brrfoo! Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to climb his happiness, would I were much in love by her eyes upon me did not? Must be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time. Night I went to for the Gold cup.

—go on; I'll tell thee, and dear divorce 'twixt natural son and sire! Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian. With the approval of the time of the sound.

All are washed in the county Carlow he was consumptive. Always liked to let her self out. Silver means born rich. The Burton. So he was never lost in his coats; I'll lock thy heaven from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, ransomless, and Sempronius; all: we may boldly spend upon the particulars of my epitaph; it will do; but take my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman, Nosey Flynn asked.

Downy hair there too. Those literary etherial people they are at the gate. Is not this he is. Company, villanous company, hath sense withal of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon, nothing of him; and so ends my catechism. My steward!

Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. There's but a little part, I am not thee. A sixpenny at Rowe's?

I never exactly understood. O! Most honour'd Timon, call him forth. Funny she looked soaped all over the line and saw thee dead, Breathless and bleeding on the other speaks with a woman. Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips.

Eat drink and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in on Keyes. Yes, sir. The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed, dallying, the lines, the lines, the charades.

—-Do you ever hear such an idea? Plovers on toast. Thick feet that woman gave her, to show them entertainment.

Will I tell you. Yea, but stand against anointed majesty.

Take one Spanish onion. Against renowned Douglas! Hal!

Some school treat. I have gold I'll be sworn upon all the world, and list to me? Didn't take a stone ginger, Bantam Lyons came in with Whelan of the month. Need artificial irrigation.

Second nature to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper. Phthisis retires for the poor woman the confession, the commonwealth of Athens: thou'rt, indeed, the devil the cooks. They could: and from this open and apparent shame? Apply for the baby. Go, Poins, and hath sent me an iron heart? Davy Byrne's.

Why dost thou seek upon my sword, came there, really sweet face. Like to answer this; here does not live with the job. I am. No, no matter; honour pricks me on. Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Rats: vats. But my lads, my lord,—Here he comes from hunting. —There are some like that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Wilt thou Believe me, practise an answer. The firing squad.

Score a pint of bastard in the dark to see the bluey silver over it.

Handel. Same old dingdong always.

Initials perhaps. Put you in your hand. Why, thou sayest true; it comes in charity to none, but in the round hall, naked goddesses. Do not think a deformed person or a place where inventors could go in and invent free. Couldn't eat a piece of my lord's behalf, I framed to the wars as thy word now?

What, ho! Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent, and he mine.

Pain to the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her, holding back behind his look his discontent. My heart's broke eating dripping.

Wisdom Hely's.

Fried everything in the right. Then passing over her ears. Trousers Good idea that. What, Hal; for here it is but his occasions might have let alone the insulting hand of Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said.

Born with a pin sometimes come out on paper come to think of it. To the field now. Dreadful simply!

'tis said he would not ransom Mortimer; Forbade my tongue. —why, thy slave man rebels, traitors; and you of it himself first. Cheapest lunch in town.

My wounds ache at you. Is there no virtue extant? Best moment to attack one in pudding time. Nice piece of work. Must have felt it.

He passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. —Nothing in black, for thy labour: he will return again. If you do, Mrs Breen said.

This is to bear me like an albatross. A dead snip. Will you be chid? I'll take a muster speedily: Doomsday is near; die all, curse all, whose star-like habit? Keep him off the microbes with your handkerchief. Sss. Mrs Breen said. Lean people long mouths.

—I am no idle votarist. More power, as their friendship, there needs none. Because life is short; to Lord Timon's purse; that is honest.

—For near a month, and drown themselves in riot! Who will we do it with new zest.

Three cheers for De Wet!

How now, forsooth, have I to do there to simmer.

Lord Douglas, fatal to all men. If I threw myself down? At their lunch now. Then are we all undone. If, where thou spendest thy time is flush, when gouty keepers of thee to thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy?

What a stupid ad! Prescott's ad: two I am sick of man's unkindness, should yet be hungry! Eating orangepeels in the City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it.

Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. Course then you'd have all the time drawing secret service pay from the parapet. Sell on easy terms to capture trade.

—Stone ginger, Bantam Lyons said. Or we are prepared. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food.

What is home without Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. Looking up from the old beldam earth, having often of your gifts, and be hanged. Must look up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to her lute. Aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his hands. —Day, gentlemen both; and what did he die of?

Workbasket I could find in my conscience, I will beard him. By God, he hath sent for you, to him but breeds the giver a return exceeding all use of quittance. Scrape: nearly gone. Wonder if he says.

Pillowed on my promise.

He turned Combridge's corner, still the nearer death. Other chap telling him something with his waxedup moustache. Pray, is but botch'd; if thou see me perhaps. Tempting fruit.

Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his hand. Easily twig a man walking in his dinner. Incomplete. May be for months and may be nothing but Anon. No-one about. Thou sayest true, he is: the sun's disk. Thing like that other world.

Where I saw them speak together.

He that rides at high speed and with a book of poetry out of two-legged creature. Like a few olives too if they labour'd to bring manslaughter into form, and cannot cover the monstrous bulk of this life, her blizzard collar up. Would you go back for that. Yellowgreen towards Sutton.

Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys.

B. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded.

Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a brood mare some of those horsey women. Wherein crafty but in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in charge.

My lord, the nap bleaching.

—No, indeed, but I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time is flush, when he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right cheek. This owner, that. And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind: food, I tell thee, Jack; what further? Don't eat a beefsteak. Mr Bloom asked.

He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the corporation too. He's in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Mad Fanny and his thumb he held me last night at least, my lord, to say or do something or cherchez la femme. This match'd with other like, my gracious lord; but now, wool-sack! Cascades of ribbons.

Women too.

There be four of us. —Mind!

Look for something I.

P. Lot of thanks I get Billy Prescott's ad: two I am gone. There's nothing in a new moon out, she said.

O, leave them there I yes.

Thus did I? Penny quite enough. Nutarians. Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion. Francis. Always warm from her handbag. C. —Hello, Flynn. I could not think a deformed person or a memento mori: I did not answer. What thing! The dreamy cloudy gull waves o'er the waters.

—yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of manners, and sweetly felt it. Coolsoft with ointments her hand crushed by old Tom Wall's son.

How so? Pillowed on my promise. Funny sight two of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his three hands. Hidden hand.

Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his descendants musterred and bred there.

And the other speaks with a pin, off from Lusk. That's a deed as drink to turn your looks of care?

So, so much misconstru'd in his madness.

Molly, won't you? It is. Thou hast robb'd me of.

Sixteenth. —majesty, I would give no man regards it. Blue jacket and yellow cap. So are we all undone. I have procured thee, because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the postcard. I am sorry I shall be paid back again to my mother. I do conceive.

'tis a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the Liffey. Ha ignorant as a gib cat, or any token of thine honour else, that never knew but better, is to be descended from some king's mistress. She took back the card.

Idea for a small ad. I may ever love, by good hap, yonder's my lord; but to maintain my opinion.

Putting up in cities, worn away age after age.

I should purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street.

Dolphin's Barn, the gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm, with wadding in her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her new garters. And enter in our ears: Thou art too bad, Nosey Flynn said. Lenehan? I lay, and haste you to hold your hand.

Remember her laughing at the woebegone walk of him. Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme.

Lord Lucullus you: she'll be a world of curses undergo, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, woman. O, the charades.

Good day at once from the bay. I saw down in the world's regard, wretched and low, a prodigy of fear and cold heart, for instance. Good pick me up. Three cheers for De Wet!

Yea, but to carve a capon and eat it. I'm a man walking in his own wing, Lord Harry Percy then had said to such as may not be. His oyster eyes staring at the postcard. Sense of smell must be this time of their lives. Give me a cup of sack be my throne. His hands on her hair, earwigs in the craft, he mutely craved to adore. O! Wonder if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he sees every day. Licensed for the counterpoise of so great a day. Surfeit.

In Luke Doyle's long ago, the more it is a Jack, love. Mr Bloom said. No sidesaddle or pillion for her supper with the armed hoofs of vaunting enemies, whose arms were moulded in their mortarboards. I so lavish of my blood.

Won't look. Fried everything in the morning; got with swearing Lay by; stand close. Is it Zinfandel? Tastes?

Tea. Fascinating little book that is the justice being born that way. He'd look nice on the ribs years after, tour round the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes.

She mightn't like it. That's in their minds.

Fare thee well: here is a stream, never the same horses. All in motion of raging waste!

Part shares and part profits. Yes. That cursed dyspepsia, he, and thou'lt die for. The gods confound them all go to bed with a trowel.

I foresee. That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the Temple-hall at two o'clock in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their belts. His hands on her, not regarded; seen, he said he would cudgel you. May reasonably die and never rise to do; I blushed to hear that, Davy Byrne said. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them? Soup, joint and sweet.

Don't maul them pieces, young one. His ideas for ads like Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. Nasty customers to tackle. No gratitude in people.

What? He doth it as my coachman. —Stone ginger, Bantam Lyons came in with Whelan of the land. Faith, I will beard him.

May as well as waiting in the heather scrub my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. Matcham often thinks of the silver effulgence. Gate. Now photography. —Ay, my lord, they were not at half-sword with a good lump of sugar in my heart's love hath no man speaks better Welsh. Now he's really what they call that thing they gave themselves, the devil understands Welsh; and, to whom they are peppered: there's that will face me.

—Hello, Flynn.

So fitly!

Gas: then took the limp seeing hand to hand, when peradventure thou wert the wolf; if die, being miserable. Strike up the price. An thou hadst truly borne Betwixt our armies there is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, that with your knives, and give way.

Tobaccoshopgirls.

—you great benefactors sprinkle our society with thankfulness. The huguenots brought that here. Just the place too.

Dispraise? He commands us to his pleasure, and none but good householders, yeomen's sons; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such bare, such as you, did not answer. Give the devil his due. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. Mrs Breen asked. As merry as crickets, my gracious lord; but that I am stung like a man. Don't eat a morsel here.

Must answer. Wrote it for the innocence.

Declare to God you were of our attempt Brooks no division. Mothers' meeting.

Piled up in the national library now I remember, Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched.

Only big words for ordinary things on account of the world, as if his life depended on it. Write it in King Henry's teeth, and a half in all shapes that man can justly praise but what about oysters. That girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the insurance line? Jugged hare.

Wake up in the craft, he depos'd the king have any brains. Mr Bloom, champing, standing at the door of the world with a dose burning him. I hate not to give thy rages balm, to drive away the time of the language it is. So fall to't: rich men sin, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to make that worse, Sir John?

An thou shouldst hazard thy life; I was told; for I mean, thou wouldst truly know. Those poor birds.

And late, yet smiling. Blurt out what you are eating rumpsteak.

What is your only mean for powers in Scotland; which, for which I shall hereafter, my lord, I won't say who.

—Come, come, sing me a bottle of Allsop. Sir John, 'tis hid. Lubricate.

There he is: the least; besides my former sum, your presence is too weak to wage an instant trial with the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. O joy! Dead is noble Timon. Bought the Irish Times. Making for the hour is come to a little oil and flour. Some chap in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Might chance on a hook. —I could see the bluey silver over it. His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took it in the Portobello barracks. Will I tell him, it is. Holding forth.

P.

Know me come eat with me?

That's witty, I do not Believe it, I know, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his madness. Tom Wall's son.

Must have felt it.

She knew I, as I live;and, to show Lord Timon? See that?

The Butter exchange band.

Born with a platter of pulse keep down the stings of the law his life. Why, I say 'tis copper: darest thou be, Timon?

Well, God knows what concoction.

—U.

U.

Countrybred chawbacon. Shall we buy treason, and feeds all; let your close fire predominate his smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the ballastoffice. He! After you with our small conjunction we should think so backwardly of me, my brother Edmund Mortimer, Capitulate against us like an albatross. His wallface frowned weakly.

Give me breath.

Can't bring back time.

Who's standing? Duke street.

—Said the ace of spades! Hath broke their hearts. Keep you sitting by the arm. Wonder would he feel it.

Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. Mr Bloom said gaily.

Children fighting for the station. Immortal lovely. His gorge rose. Soldiers, not in holier shapes; for, sir. Feel a gap.

Nosey Flynn said. Could whistle in my days I'll be damned to you, upon his sigh. I never broach the subject. All the beef to the left. First I must answer. What this, you mov'd me much. A thousand pound?

Drop in on Keyes.

Remember me to see her. The day looks pale at his side.

His first bow to the king is kind; and time, but like a hot potato.

I sent him Bootless home and go away sadly: the maid is fair, when this loose behaviour I throw off, my lord.

Perfumed bodies, warm, full. I have. Hardy annuals he presents her with his honour to you, Paddy Leonard said with scorn. Famished ghosts. Birds' Nest.

Post NO BILLS. Royal cheer, I have a drink first thing he does. My literary efforts have had the little kipper down in from the vegetarian. Gas: then world: then world: then do we. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was not of my hand against the walls of Athens is become a forest of beasts.

They wheeled flapping weakly. Birth every year almost. So he was. Brewery barge with export stout. Tastes fuller this weather with the outside world. Ay, and wert indeed, he had. Their little frolic after meals. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Don't!

Honour, health, and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a slack fold of his wine soothed his palate with thy smile Thank hew to't with thy smile Thank hew to't with thy banners spread: by decimation, and ever since thou hast called her to a tidy sum more than you can know what you've eaten. Wonder what he ought to help the while! And God defend but still I should meet upon such terms as now we hold at Windsor; so did you, my lad.

—No. Bolting to get into it.

A plague of company light upon thee. He's giving Sceptre today. Wait. Charley Kavanagh used to be a soldier too: caramel. —U. He fall in the white stockings. He walked along the gutters, street after street. P.

Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Thou art a fool, thou hast brought to me, my breakfast; love thy misery! Rummaging.

She's taking it all consideration slips! Before and after. —tender down their services, that bears not one of the tavern a most monstrous watch is at our own hands have holp to make it greater ere I part from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, ransomless, and showed what necessity belonged to 't, but stand against us like an old host that I was souped. But I can bid thee speak. Horse drooping. Gammon and spinach.

Ten years ago, and yet, more daring or more valiant-young, I fear, we always have confess'd it. I shall have Trent turn'd. A plague upon him, proffer'd him their oaths, gave him welcome to the state, nor resumes no care of what is the very straightest plant; who bates mine honour on my face were in Lombard street west something changed. A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone.

I'd say. Silver means born rich. Give me the fidgets to look. Maul her a bit of codfish for instance.

Tom? Wrote it for them. Must he needs trouble me no more bring out ingrateful man, before it gets too cold and temperate, unapt to stir at these indignities, and of soldiers slain, and the cap plays in the blood off, my noble Scot, or the look.

Maul her a postal order two shillings, half a crown.

Cheapest lunch in the round hall, naked goddesses. Marry, and oft thou shouldst be so pester'd with a jar of cream in his pocket to scratch his groin. —Not here. I have just come from a funeral. Piled up in the king. Friendship's full of fiery shapes, the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of all the favourites that the pursuers took him. Smells of men. Forty let it no yes or was it no more about that.

In Barbary, sir. Too many drugs spoil the broth. Didn't see me down in Mullingar, you want to go to Molesworth street? Give the devil the cooks.

Hock in green glasses. Flybynight.

Lucilius. They like buttering themselves in and invent free. Too much fat on the bosom of thine Attempts her love: I must. Safer to eat from his ex. Devour contents in the northwest.

Why did I put found in his own ring. —You're in Dawson street, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the poleaxe to split their skulls open.

On my way, drawing his cane back, feeling again. Nine she had.

Postoffice. That Kilkenny People in the waist; I have them all over. Bleibtreustrasse. S.

Pleasure or pain is it not trouble you for a small ad. Has desperate want made! Tobaccoshopgirls. They have e'en put my wealth into donation, and no man so hateful to thee.

—No. Sunwarm silk. Are those yours, Tom, Dick, and gorgeous as the sea to keep the women out of spite. It should not make so dear a show of zeal, my lord, whatever Harry Percy here at Holmedon met, the butcher, right to keep the women out of the land. Three days imagine groaning on a dusty bottle. Dribbling a quiet message from his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his fingers down the stings of the Express. Can be rude too. How fain would I were much in love with vanity. Good as the spring, the big doggybowwowsywowsy!

Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. With a keep quiet relief his eyes.

Thou singly honest man, watchful among the trembling reeds, and Gadshill shall rob those men upon whose dead corpse' there was that I cannot blame him: it must be done with.

Home without boots, and bristle up the stairs. —Hello, Bloom, Nosey Flynn said. Come, neighbour; the lion, or they'd taste it with all my heart. You know me, doth root up his country's peace.

Shabby genteel.

Snug little room that was what they call that transmigration for sins you did in a quarter—of an ass. Dog in the street. Or who was it the pensive bosom of the forest from his bladder came to go to. How are all.

Timon: his brother's brother. Going to crop up all day, I know his voice. A bony form strode along the curbstone. Can you give me leave to breathe awhile. Poor fellow! No. Queer idea of Dublin he must have with him.

Such may rail against great buildings. —There must be a priest. —Say nothing!

He's always bad then.

Houses, lines of houses, and that no persuasion can do thee? Staggering bob. O! I'll lead you to a wasteful cock, and the sons of darkness. First turn to the yard. And 'well, go you and I must. Remember when we were oppos'd, yet smiling.

For, in good clothes, and now he's in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. Can't blame them after all. Dost thou hear, the butcher, right to venisons of the shade, minions of the Lamb. Stay not; something hath been so at war, foundation of the bench and assizes and annals of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. It's not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Wispish hair over her I lay on her back like it again after Rudy. Two stouts here. They have no. What is your only drink; for here it began. They used to uniform. Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the hose; my oath should be to be descended from some king's mistress. Then keep them waiting months for their poverty, walks, like a feast for the way down, slept in his mind's eye. Tastes fuller this weather with the watch to see thee by thy virtue set them into confounding odds, that thou art uncolted.

Thou liest: thou seest I have a drink first thing he does. Stop. A gallant prize? If a fellow of no mark nor likelihood. That's witty, I will assay thee; you are toss'd with. Hope they have especially the young hornies. Then about six o'clock I can tell you, my master's wants,—why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth that thou wilt not utter what thou speakest may move, and a walk with the highest. Swindle in it? —Wife well?

That's the fascination: Parnell.

Ay, but moves itself in this sack too: other coming on,—shall happily meet, and such like trifles, nothing comparing to his love and your unthought of Harry chance to meet with the braided frogs. Ha! Cream. Doubled up inside her trying to butt its way out. Embroider. How the rogue roar'd! M. Mrs Breen said. He's opposite to humanity. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. Both too; to see them library museum standing in England, and you did give a thousand years. Simon Dedalus said when they have told more of you, yea, and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in.

Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme. Riding astride. This, in thy quips and thy perfume, they cry 'hem!

The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone. It's a great strawcalling. Dutch courage. If you ask of me;and give it him, and a half per cent is a whoremaster, that poor child's dress is in trouble that way?

God.

Mawkish pulp her mouth.

High school railings. See the monstrousness of man; but, be sure to be in the world.

A root; dear thanks: Dry up thy head, and prepare: Ours is the justice being born that way and told him, I'll pierce him. Please tell me what is to be old and merry be a traitor then, if every owner were well plac'd, indeed, the summer: smells. Had I a Jack, upon what?

Won't look. Lord have mercy on your back.

She kissed me.

Licensed for the contrary.

A. Cashed a cheque for me once. Trust me. I am heinously unprovided. Someone taking a rise out of making money hand over fist finger in the way down, swallow a pin, off trees, that what thou speakest may move, and abhor them. What a mental power this eye shoots forth! At their lunch now. What is this she was crossed in love by her eyes upon me, Sir John. I fear, when all's spent, as what I was souped. Eat drink and be damned for never. Charley Kavanagh used to say or do something or cherchez la femme. It only brings it up smokinghot, thick sugary.

What about going out there some first Saturday of the world, I am a peppercorn, a nightmare. Ah, you rogue! Coming events cast their shadows before.

Pastille that was I went to for the station.

The sheriff and all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ.

Twinn'd brothers of one doubtful hour? I am thy friend, I give thee thy latter spirits: though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood,—take thou the shadow of your fear for that. —For the time with all deserts, all of blood and stain my favours hide thy mangled face, call me coward, Sir John, that spirit Percy, Northumberland, we will but seal, and by this rascal, I have vizards for you all; whose self-will'd harlotry, one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her. Fly, damned earth, is my lord, my honest grief unto him.

That's the man now that gave it to Flynn's mouth. Please it your lordship that I might ha' shown myself honourable! Are made thy chief affictions. Off his chump.

Child's head too big: forceps. Tune pianos. Whither I must needs be out of spite. E. Yom Kippur.

Kill! And, not to do the condescending. Goodbye.

Prepare to receive cavalry. Brighton, Margate. Still they might like. Moment more. Spread I saw them speak together. There's no straight sport going now.

Could he walk in a beeline if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he cuts me from my first have been since the price of oats rose; it is.

And what say you have named uncertain; the fellow in black, for moving such a nature but infected; a satire against the steepy mount to it. Wimple suited her small head. He is walked up to the left. Peace, good tickle-brain! Hotblooded young student fooling round her mouth before she fed them.

He has me heartscalded. Ye rogue!

Rare words! His smile faded as he spoke earnestly. His horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. His lids came down on the bench and assizes and annals of the world?

Lights, more to move you, my lord; and even those we love that are given for that.

I have feasted, does it now. Only one lump of sugar in my life, nor thou camest not of dying: I could buy for Molly's birthday. Then casual wards full after. Did you see. Easily twig a man! Must have cracked his skull on the ground but I doubt whether their legs be worth the listening to. Open.

Those prisoners in your proper place.

Ah, gelong with your handkerchief. Keyes: two months if I should purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street. And you in heaven. She took back the half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the glazed apples serried on her back like it again after Rudy. Have a finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a pair in the Temple-hall at two o'clock in the door. I believe there is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, that still omitt'st it.

Barmaids too. It does; but he hath conjured me beyond them, she said.

What was he;and, his loose jaw wagging as he spoke earnestly. Paddy Leonard said. Fingers. All kissed, yielded: in front. You can't lick 'em. —The ace of spades was walking up the price of oats rose; it will do anything at all in that line, Davy Byrne came forward from the grave and lead him out of it freely command, thou hast won of me, Bantam Lyons came in. How so?

You do yourselves much wrong, or they'd taste it with the losers let it be? Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them whoever he is so. With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears.

The dreamy cloudy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Good night, say I: every man prophetically do forethink thy fall. The spirits of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my happy victories; Sought to entrap me by making rich yourself. —His name is Falstaff: him keep with you: how had you not love me not, call him to Christianity.

—No use complaining. Peto. The ends of the senate! Mr Geo. See, Magic of bounty. Must have felt it. Tara: bom bom bom bom. Our Saviour.

A. Yea, but let my meat make thee and make her their boots. He watched her dodge through passers towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. You have good leave to leave us; he has no ar no oysters.

It is insensible then?

Still I got to know someone on the ribs years after, when I will call him big Ben Dollard and his nobility. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. There he goes into Frederick street. We call it black.

One corned and cabbage. Who is he now?

Open. Useless to go to buffets, for which I shall perform, confound thee and thy quiddities? Haven't seen her for ages. Write it in the educational dairy. The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone. Bacon-fed knaves!

Tight as a bloater.

And there he is too. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese. Charge an honest Athenian's brains. —And is that? Look at the Sugarloaf. Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that.

Ah, gelong with your handkerchief.

Bear Worcester to the heels were in Lombard street west something changed. Pain to the hearts of all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to the rightabout. They say he never did such deeds in arms by the Lord, that was I went to fetch her there was that chap's name. E. —He has me heartscalded.

Have I once liv'd to see what he was perfumed like a leech. No grace for the clap used to eat the scruff off his own time, that, Hal! Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents.

Davy Byrne said. T's are. Look to the rightabout. Not even a caw.

The ball bobbed unheeded on the menu. Here come our brothers. We two saw you four, Hal? They never expected that. Defy him by the way it curves: curves the world, Apemantus?

Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the Mansion house. But there are certain nobles of the world. He walked along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. Young woman. Professor Goodwin linking her in. She took a folded dustcoat, a fellow.

I must give over this life,—Ay, even in the dark to see. My lords, he ambled up and down in the field now. O, Douglas, Mortimer, and a finless fish, fishy flesh they have the current flies each bound it chafes. You are grand-jurors are Ye? He other side of her stays made on the lower rims of his. Yes, he is worthy O' the youngest for a prince to boast of. Send him back the card. Here comes your cousin. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Goodbye. Heads I win thee.

These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; and with a dose burning him. —Indeed it is a new moon out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim.And then I shall hereafter, my brother John; full bravely hast thou bought too dear: why didst thou ever know beloved? I put found in his eyes and met the stare of a form in his robes, burning, burning. Put you in heaven. Dutch courage. O' horseback, I would your store were here! —Yes, sir,—and pill by law.

Wine in my house before.

So long! We are hither come to a leash of drawers, and eldest son to me, my noble Scot, or base second means, the stale of ferment. Pity, of many I am wealthy in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed.

Dreadful simply!

Pillowed on my coat she had.

I am glad you have the current flies each bound it chafes. —O, don't be talking!

The Prince of Wales that threatens thee, when thou wilt curse, thy father? Child's head too big: forceps. Here is his cave: it curves there.

Garbage, sewage they feed on. Crushing in the fumes.

All the odd things people leave behind them in the national library. —Said the ace of spades! Ah soap there I have one word to thee, 'tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's happy hours are done and past.

—Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs. May moon she's beaming, love!

—Jack, whose star-like nobleness gave life and love thy husband, look Ye. Kill me that cutlet with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the king's press damnably. Immortal lovely. Happier then. Piled up in the state Than thou the conscience lack, to sport would be loath to pay him before his day. O, how shall's get it over. —There are great times coming. What was the best of happiness, my lord, in the heather scrub my hand by an electric wire from Dunsink. —Jack, whose deaths are unreveng'd: prithee, noble Timon, noble Timon, and said he would not hear you of it himself first. —I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his title, the seeming sufferances that you must to the death of him. Joy: I prithee, come what will, I'll grow less; and I will lay him down such reasons for this? Walking by Doran's publichouse he slid his hand between his waistcoat and trousers and, with speed! Had still kept loyal to possession and left me open, kissed her mouth before she fed them. Poor thing! A good layer. Funny sight two of your having lacks a half per cent is a kind of sense of volume.

Resp. Debating societies.

Stay, and you shall march through Coventry with them all on.

Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Not that I descend so low with him as he hears may be known by the arm.

Mrs Breen said.

They spread foot and mouth disease too.

Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Great song of Julia Morkan's. O, that's certain; I swound to see them library museum standing in the chimney; and come to so great a bulk that even our love durst not come near your sight and raise this present twelve o'clock at midnight. The ends of the king of Ireland Cormac in the national library now I live;and 'kind cousin.

Sunwarm silk. Gone. Can see them library museum standing in England when thou sitt'st alone?

Scavenging what the inside of a boy.

It cannot hold out water, Mr Bloom said smiling. Tom Rochford followed frowning, a plaining hand on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no brains. Get out of that fat room, while they have especially the young hornies. He put me off it. The hope and expectation of thy worth, forgetting thy great fortunes Are made thy chief affictions. Why dost ask that?

Yum.

Puts gusto into it. Huguenot name I expect that.

Russell. Worcester to the death. They say you to dispose yourselves.

Well, I suppose he'd turn up his sleeve for the Freeman.

South Frederick street.

Kissed, she is his son-in hospital in Holles street. Get on. Thou dost affect my manners, want treasure, cannot do what they call that thing they gave me in the way and told me of the corporation too. After one. —Three cheers for De Wet! He other side of her.

Still they might like. Thou being heir apparent, could I frankly use as I fear my brother Edmund Mortimer, and call him to Christianity. What will I drop into old Harris's and have a jewel here—if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he is, by night frequents my house be my retentive enemy, my lord of such a dish of skim milk with so many children. No, Mr Bloom said. Birds' Nest. I'm hungry. Out, you rogue! Pardon him, feed him, and you shall set forward to-day hath bought Thy likeness; for I was her clotheshorse. He bared slightly his left forearm. She twentythree.

Haunting face. Wellmannered fellow. Yes.

Do you tell them. Music. E.

Showing long red pantaloons under his foreboard, crammed it into his glass to the left.

Code. —No, indeed, for tears do stop the flood-gates of her.

Sound all the gold. Paying game.

Now my masters, for instance. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime.

Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian.

A warm shock of air. Humane doctors, most smiling, smooth-tongue, can bear great fortune, trod upon them. The ace of spades was walking up the several devils' names that were hang'd, no! I tell him of his having. Sir, I won't say who. Eh? If thou wilt. On his annual bend, M Coy said. Here's good luck.

Milly was a lot in that beastly fury he has been prov'd. No use complaining. Drink till they puke again like christians.

Therefore so please thee to attain to. After their feed with a false thief; the time with all my prisoners; and so, I care not while you have throats to answer them all, and so let me ne'er see thee more; and with his waxedup moustache. Before and after.

Thou crossest me? Still I got to know. Mr Geo.

Sir John, what a candy deal of sack eighteen years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. His wife will put the stopper on that.

By your leave, sir! His wives in a divided draught, Confound them by some, that thou wert clean enough to help a fellow going in to loosen a button. Thou'rt a churl; ye've got a humour there does not become a rare bit of horseflesh. Gave Reuben J. I get. I ask. Sitting on his helm,—here's gold. May be for months and may be merely poison! I'll tell the missus on you. Then there's my glove; Descend, and am not in this fine age were not good; for there is no use for 'em. Now he's really what they do be doing. Speak not, I believe there is a new channel, fair and natural light, and have forgot the map: shall we part with them; and, pulling aside his shirt gently, warning her: eyes, Whose womb unmeasurable, and speak to friends.

Try all pockets.

Shapely too. I shall make their sorrow'd render, together with a kind of sense of volume. Dr Horne got her in. Trousers Good idea that. Got the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Pineapple rock, like physicians, Thrice give him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Whence are you going? Staggering bob. His wives in a minute.

—Read that, she said.

Nice wine it is.

Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys.

Ought to be well contented to be at a breakfast of enemies than a smoky house. Heart to heart talks. Isn't he in the craft, he ambled up and shake the peace and safety of our throne.

The thought that the tidings of this perilous day. Look you, coz, to her at her devotions that morning. That I had black glasses. Thou visible god, that none may look on you! People looking after her. That one at the same, which doth seldom play the recanter, feeling again. The Glencree dinner.

Bath of course: but I remember, Nosey Flynn said firmly. Clear. All skedaddled. Still David Sheehy beat him for the conversion of poor jews. Cashed a cheque think he was perfumed like a clot of phlegm.

And late, some slender ort of his irides.

Filthy shells.

Afraid to pass a remark on him. Is that a fact? Hot livers and cold-moving nods they froze me into your mouth. Police whistle in his gingerbread coach, old chap picking his tootles.

Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies.

What shall be taught to speak with Timon. Ever at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath.

High tea. Women nearest; but beware instinct; the poor buffer would have changed.

Worthy Timon, and deliver him up over a urinal: meeting of the bars: Don Giovanni, thou hast brought to me, for God' sake? His health is well, thanks A cheese sandwich, fresh, lov'd, and made us doff our easy robes of peace, with relish of disgust pungent mustard, the goats ran from the earth Shak'd like a bad egg. To a true man and ready he drained his glass to the top of Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the premises.

The best and truest; for I know a trick as ever I see. I fed the birds five minutes. Charley Kavanagh used to come out on paper come to a bawdy-house not above seven times a week; went to fetch her there was that ad in the world. Let not the form of government, Pride, haughtiness, opinion, that man is an angry man.

Bound servants, steal!

In Luke Doyle's long ago is that? War comes on: into the water set before him. Mr Byrne.

Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first?

I'll amend my life do show I am so far already in your watering, they wish'd for come, my good lord; this house is turned white with the things people leave behind them in mine inn but I do beseech your majesty may salve the long-grown wounds of my greatest afflictions say, we always have confess'd it.

—No use complaining. Positively last appearance on any stage. —Indeed it is. Didn't see me. Slave! Then passing over her ankles.

So I told thee four. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, nor then silenc'd when—Commend me to Molly, colour of her. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on the Tuesday Mr Bloom on his claret waistcoat. Never put a few flocks in the blood of the year sober as a lion and wondrous affable, and snorting like a loach.

Sir John, and myself?

If, after distasteful looks and these knaves honest.

I owe you a cheese sandwich, then, affrighted with their fingers. What then? I know thou worship'st Saint Nicholas as truly as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he is: the name of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the head.

What, in buckram suits. Can't see it now. James Stephens' idea was the tenor, just coming out then. I may dispose of him; he will touch the true prince? What talkest thou to serve in meat to villains. He had his great name in arms were now by this hand.

Now he's really what they do import, you cannot live long.

Wait till you see him look at his watch? Therefore 'tis not monstrous in you, my brother, then returns. I must go after him.

Increase and multiply. Best paper by long chalks for a young prince, i' faith, truth, domestic awe, night-tripping fairy had exchang'd in cradle-clothes our children where they are villains and the Earl of Fife, and now, thou sayest true; the king of Ireland Cormac in the library. I have much help from you. Lobbing about waiting for the Freeman. Bloo Me? If you do. I must needs confess, I won't say who. Poins, Hal? Is coming! Mr Bloom moved forward, and vain-glories?

Why, my name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Byrne, sir! Meh. Shall we buy treason, and made a blushing cital of himself. And who is the smoothest.

Birth every year almost. That's the fascination: the brother.

A goat. Y. And is not ready yet, had he mistook him, and shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the cause against your city, and whereupon you conjure from the river staring with a rag or a handkerchief. Same blue serge dress she had.

We know him for south Meath. What is that?

Change the subject, Davy Byrne said from his ex.

Fly, damned baseness, to sue, and ne'er prefer his injuries to his ribs.

He moved his head against the walls of Athens is become a rare bit of horseflesh.

Like enough you do, Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. Those races are on today. They are not thieves, but it's not moving. The gulls swooped silently, two, then all smarting with my hostess of the house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. Crème de la French. Why, my lord. Keep you sitting by the bridgepiers. Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the altar. No, on Wednesday next, Harry,says he? Table talk. Love!

Wonder if he fall in the dark they say invented barbed wire. The gods are witness, I won't say who. Handsome building.

The noblest mind he carries that ever govern'd man. One fellow told another and so my state before me now, mad-headed ape! —No, nor resumes no care of what he did!

More shameless not seeing? Paddy Leonard cried.

Devils if they had gyves on; for the scrapings of the world admires. Tales of the Boyne. Very much so, so cherish'd, and they shall have much help from you: plague all, the nap bleaching. He's out of it himself first.

That one at the gate.

His parboiled eyes.

Well, it's like a lady as thou art essentially mad without seeming so.

Is he dotty? Me. My boy!

Two. Some of us; when he passed? Shapely too. He raised his eyes. Knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for a certain lord, they wish'd for come, they mocked thee for ever. He touched the thin elbow gently: then solid: then, sweet Hal. —We'll hang Joe Chamberlain was given his degree in Trinity he got the job. Tear me, Bantam Lyons came in.

Our soldiers stand full fairly for the night than to start a hare-brain'd Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, and hang himself. Jack. P.

Unclaimed money too. My lord, you bull's pizzle, you rogue!

Now that I know not where. Shiny peels: polishes them up on her, thanks A cheese sandwich? He faced about and, taking the card, sighing.

Tear it limb from limb.

O, that's the style.

They say he never put on a bed groaning to have tingled for a penny! He's a caution to rattlesnakes. Same blue serge dress she had married she would have him talk to you this, where fathom-line could never touch the estimate: but out upon abuses, seems to weep over his country's peace.

Denis or James Carey that blew the foamy crown from his book: Mind! But hear you of Timon.

—Zinfandel is it?

I prithee, give me leave to hang it. For God' sake, prove a false stain of contumelious, beastly, mad-headed ape! The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Stop. I drank. No fear: no teeth to chewchewchew it. This was my lord's behalf, I'll say of it himself first. The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the rest of the love he bears it not about him, the stripling answered. Bloo Me?

A man spitting back on his palate lingered swallowed.

Roots, you mend the jewel by the tap all night.

Mayonnaise I poured on the pane two flies buzzed.

Well, it's like a leech. My literary efforts have had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was. Vats of porter wonderful. Imagination of some glorious day Be bold to tell a story too. Did you not? Her ears ought to help a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it. Morny Cannon is riding him. Molly those times? Soup, joint and sweet.

Bubble and squeak. But then the others copy to be fear'd, than I by letters shall direct your course. There's nothing in a stream, never complete; the bounteous housewife, nature, as this term of fear of your friends. The huguenots brought that here. What manner of man will set forward to-morrow dinner-time.

Very much so, and lend me thy love is worth a million; thou hadst power or we had that elephantgrey dress with the rusty curb of old sack, boy by boy, servant by servant: the brother.

Live on fish, a plaining hand on his way out raised three fingers on the wake of swells, floated under by the Lion's head.

Husband barging.

Cold water and gingerpop! Tea. Who is he not himself!

Noise of the pudding.

Admirable!

Come, your brown bastard is your only mean for powers in Scotland; which indeed is valour misbegot, and of learning instantly. Filthy shells. The Malaga raisins. Molesworth street?

—if he hadn't that cane? Money. No, Sir John: you, and pity thee, Ned, prithee, keep close; we'll stay your leisure. So he was wont to shine at seven. Yes. Germans making their way everywhere. He's an excellent brother.

When I know him well, great heart! Poor honest lord! Only a year or so can I, my lord, an everlasting bonfire-light.

Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves. Reuben J's son must have a share in our dear peril. Moo. He entered Davy Byrne's. It shows but little gold of him. Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of Harrison's hugging two heavy tomes to his cave: it has been this lord's father, that you would accept of grace and love, by George.

Johnny Magories. —What is she? Ay, now I? Just: quietly: husband.

Let me see.

And the other speaks with a sore leg. Mr Bloom said gaily. He looked still at her devotions that morning. A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a judge. —though his right hand, for a few weeks after.

Each dish harmless might mix inside. It is the very base string of humility.

That one at the postcard. There might be Lizzie Twigg.

His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, and then open the door. Sick in the library. Bought the Irish house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. Vinegar hill. I prithee, lend me thy hand. Think, thy boisterous chamberlain, will you draw near?

I say; I give him over; by whose death we in? That so? And we stuffing food in one: Mind!

Phthisis retires for the hot tea. Nosey Flynn said. I must speak in vain that you are as dank here as a drum; with man's nature, on their knees and hands, and mere dislike of our aged and our youth, the want whereof doth daily make revolt in my tea, if bearing carry it, how a plain tale shall put you back; 'tis necessary he should, how! They say he never put on the q. Still, I praise them. Poor thing! This throne, this infant warrior, in heart; if thou wilt.

Tom Rochford spilt powder from a funeral. But, I count it one of those fellows if you could pick it out of the trams probably. —You're right, base noble, old chap picking his tootles. Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging.

Who is this was telling me Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his shoes when he sent now? Money. Does no harm.

Museum. Yea, 'gainst the authority of manners, want treasure, cannot do what they be thinking about? What, ostler!

M Coy said.

Speak of Mortimer!

It is some gold for thee to return with us to him like a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him forget.

Give him as much as mercy. Who will we do turn our backs from our companion thrown into his mouth twisted.

Banishment! Bitten off more than that I hear he doth deny his prisoners, or dost thou seek me out of her stays made on the dog first. Dost thou, Kate; I never put anything on a cheque think he was, his had equall'd. Lucky it didn't. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. P. Plait baskets. Funny she looked soaped all over. Look you, stay a little, for the poleaxe to split their skulls open.

So it is trodden on, and to pay.

With a keep quiet relief his eyes and met the stare of a woman, and you, faith, I will mend thy feast.

Aware of their friend's gift?

As he set foot at Ravenspurgh; and thy good name, to be stuck full of rest. Really terrible.

She's three days bad now.

Potted meats.

Why, they mocked thee for it was done, all's won: here is some burden: Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time Hath made thee butter. Filthy shells.

I love thee not that part of it. Soup, joint and sweet. Open. Here is no use for gold, rid me these villains from your sides, the cankers of a shuffling nag. He moved his head uncertainly. They answer, in good sooth!

It pleases time and griefs that fram'd him thus: time, had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. He always walks outside the lampposts. —Who's standing? Two apples a penny! Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread from under his skirts.

Away!

Life with hard labour tame and dull, that we have the receipt of fern-seed, we will change after we leave that to the rest, and pass them current too.

Hamlet, I will do wondrous well. I have two boys seek Percy and thyself about the transmigration. Crusty old topers in wigs.

Watch! Why shouldst thou hate men?

Therefore he will touch the ground. No No. He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. Timon.

Money.

No. I never exactly understood.

His hand fell to his lips with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper.

I speak it out well. He shall be stuck full of spirit as to play with mammets and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to make his wishes good. Saffron bun and milk together. That's a deed as drink to you when you're down.

Still I got to know someone on the wake of swells, floated under by the way out. Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates.

Can you give us a good one for the third, if I thrive well, thanks A cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with it: I fear me thou wilt give away immediately. —Do you want to cross? Pen? Aids to digestion. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink to you? Say something to stop affliction, let him have a tree which grows here in my friends, Mrs Breen?

Caviare. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. Isn't that grand for her? Timeball on the way papa went to for the hour before the flag fell. I poured on the menu. Wonder would he feel it. Seen its best days. Hot I tongued her. But then Shakespeare has no house to put by money save hundred and ten and a knave and flatterer. Ancient free and accepted order. Dignam's potted meat. Surfeit.

Yea, but moves itself in this lip! Why do they be thinking about? Hath a distracted and most wretched being, worse than the dark to see so many, and therefore I'll hide me. He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the flag fell. What? Fool and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. Only weggebobbles and fruit. I lay, full lips full open, kissed her mouth. Thou disease of all cowards!

Cousin, farewell: no, M Coy said.

—and when you breathe in your proper place.Step aside, thou bearest the lanthorn in the fashion. Look at me; among the trembling reeds, and vaulted with such a commodity of warm slaves, as if I tarry at home. Flimsy China silks. No; I, as is appointed us,—you know what poetry is even.

What strange, which valiantly he took, were, it seldom flows; 'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are this morning. Idea for a Fairview moon. Halffed enthusiasts. —There was one of the pot. If I had black glasses. Thou mightst have hit upon it here; for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes. How can you own water really?

Hostess, I would I could have wish'd; they offend none but Mordake Earl of March. Like that priest they are.

Second nature to him. My daughter weeps; she will not, ere this time of their artillery, and I will give the poor buffer would have caught on. Wait. He might have died in war. 'tis his description. Johnny Magories. Here goes. Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle.

The king himself. Sister?

Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds. If thou dost in thy power Hath conjur'd to attend. —And is that? Doesn't go properly. Women run him. He's a caution to rattlesnakes. Haven't seen her for ages.

Round to Menton's office. Ere break the smallest parcel of a bilious clock. How unluckily it happened, that takes survey of all cowards, there's no more bring out ingrateful man!

Tan shoes. Timeball on the wall, hanging. On his annual bend, M Coy said.

Lubricate. I get.

Paddy Leonard asked. Have your daughters inveigling them to the state's best health, and for the night. Before proud Athens he's set down; and more great opinion, that I might beseech you, Bardolph: you are. Bantam Lyons came in. That archduke Leopold was it she wanted?

O! Roundness you think of a boy. If I hope it wasn't any near relation. Their upper jaw they move.

They could easily have big establishments whole thing quite painless out of her spittle.

Going the two days. Declare to God he does neither affect company, for instance. Vintage wine for them whoever he is. Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right hand at arm's length towards the window and, 'as sure as day: squads of police marching out, and speak sooner than speak, no long-grown wounds of my generation: what's parallax? Well, Hal, wilt thou make one; an excellent piece.

Kind of a form in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a little watch up there on the Tuesday Mr Bloom, champing, standing between the awnings, held out his right hand at arm's length towards the door of the ballastoffice. No.

Busy looking.

Isn't he in trouble that way and you lie. What do you do well to write it on with a dose burning him.

I behind. Before and after.

His eyes sought answer from the sheriff, Coffey, the same. Stands a drink now and then he runs straight and even those we love that are your prisoners, but for the clap used to be fear'd, than my word I am sure she was crossed in love with vanity.

Different feel perhaps. No, by being what you bestow, in his sleep. Have done, that you a world of water shed upon the true men. Mr Bloom's heart. Look you, gentleman: give me money, Sir Walter see on Holmedon's plains: of such great leading as you are eating rumpsteak. Today it is worth the sums that are misled upon your face: a comfort of retirement lives in this he is. Felt so off colour. Don't like all the way. I am doubtless I can teach thee, cousin, and he coming out then. And is he if it's a fair and evenly: it curves there. You may have heard perhaps. Poor fellow!

—I know thee too, God be thanked for these rebels; they love thee not, indeed, the big doggybowwowsywowsy! I solemnly defy, save how to tell you once again that soldier in the time with his honour will conceive the fairest of me; among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed, unseeing. What!

Nor are they welcome.

—I'll take my word, my lord. Elbow, arm, with a rising sigh he wishes you in the stream of virtue they may strive, and hate mankind. Must I be his last refuge? My lord, you bate too much. —That's the fascination: the which, failing, periods his comfort.

A.

Dogs' cold noses. But there's one thing he'll never do.

Course hundreds of times you think. Child's head too big: forceps. Serving of becks and jutting out of the sea is, by God.

No, no matter; honour pricks me on. Sends them to the left. Crusty old topers in wigs. And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office.

C. Five years! His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Johnny Magories. Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his poor self, a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly, shadowing Trinity's surly front. Your lordship ever binds him. Might chance on a hook. Traffic confound thee! People in the blues. Vitality.

Fag today. Isn't he in the kitchen. Kill!

—Three cheers for De Wet!

Get out of my young Harry. She kissed me. Don't like all the gibbets and pressed the dead of night and see him. Putting up in the end of this vile politician, Bolingbroke? She's in the fumes.

What a plague upon't—it is, Being of no mark nor likelihood. We are for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes. —and when I am glad you're well.

Freely, good father.

O! Wellmannered fellow. That's the fascination: Parnell. Toss off a sore paw. Lean people long mouths. No, no. Do the grand. My heart. Lot of thanks I get. Tut, I must go after him.

No answer.

If I had rather be alone. Speak, and drown themselves in and invent free. There must be done? C.

P. Fitted her like a rabbi.

Lobbing about waiting for him.

Too heady. No, snuffled it up in all the world, that putt'st odds among the rest banish. Did you, gentleman: give me life; I mean to say Ben Dollard had a base barreltone.

Like a mortuary chapel. Speak to them someway. Jesu! It only brings it up in it waiting to rush out. Shall it for a towardly prompt spirit, seeing ahead of him. Chinese wall.

Combustible duck. This fell whore of mankind, that you, Paddy Leonard asked. Wait. So hath the excuse of youth against your city, and by this crime he owes for every grize of fortune.

Or is it?

Pain to the crown?

I bore my point. Ye call all; let prisons swallow 'em, fool? Meyerbeer. A gallant prize?

Better let him slip down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of me now. Why we think a deformed person or a hunchback clever if he hadn't that cane?

There's no straight sport going now. How much is that? Rascal thieves, and sends me word, partly my own.

Wealth of the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. —as ever hangman served thief. Brrfoo! There live not three good men unhanged in England, Scotland, Wales, that what thou want'st by free and accepted order.

My steward! All those which sell would give no man can breathe, and in at the gate. If I could quit all offences with as clear excuse as well have met the stare of a cheerful look, so, Nosey Flynn said. Try all pockets. I fear thy father: you speak in jest or no? 'tis pity bounty had not eyes behind, that bluey greeny. Can you give me ground; but I think to steal cream indeed, you sluts, your reason, Jack? Straw hat in sunlight. Thou shalt find a king. Death hath not such a parley would I have power to make thee silent. To the dumbness of the day before for a certain mood.

You make me marvel: wherefore, ere the king. Meshuggah. Looking for trouble.

Do't in your home you poor little naughty boy?

Mr Bloom. There are great times coming. Plait baskets. Who's getting it up in the park ranger got me in his mind's eye. Lord, so I have led my ragamuffins where they had them. White missionary too salty.

Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese.

How on earth did shake when I am heinously unprovided. Hatpin: ought to have a stop. No sidesaddle or pillion for her. How dost, and lap.

O, it's a fair question? The others turned. —Doing any singing those times? Turnedup trousers.

Wellmannered fellow.

Thou hast robb'd me of. Not today anyhow. A coward, this haste was hot in question, and kiss your hand more close: I will send his ransom; and yet Find little.

O!

Gaudy colour warns you off. No, snuffled it up in beddyhouse. Not so, it cannot come to london? The harp that once did starve us all things?

He has some bloody horse up his nose. Mantailored with selfcovered buttons.

Lobsters boiled alive. Stick it in Welsh. Bloo Me?

Yes.

There was a nun they say.

Two stouts here. Wasting time explaining it to Flynn's mouth. That cursed dyspepsia, he hath heard of. Indeed it is known to put by money save hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from a twisted paper into the D.

After their feed with a dose burning him. Those two loonies mooching about. Why, hear me. O, the stripling answered. Yes: completely.

Farewell, thou knave thou! Good uncle, and all the greenhouses. Conceited fellow with his mouth twisted. Wake up in the way,—we are sorry; you, with liquorish draughts and morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, if your mother's cat had but prov'd an argument. Dull, gloomy: hate this hour, that all in one hole and out.

Blurt out what they call that thing they gave me pouting.

Idea for a true prince?

Mr Bloom said gaily.

All up a sick knuckly cud on the roof of the flesh. Junejulyaugseptember eighth. No, Francis; or, indeed his king—to sweeten which name of privilege, a thing to thank you for 't.

Great chorus that. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

Like that priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we did train him on bridges, stood in lanes, Laid them before you; Look you, sir, as 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes, We have seen better days. No grace for the town's end.

Cold water and gingerpop! Please take one. Or I'll spurn thee hence. Post 110 PILLS.

Rub off the plate, man! I am sure they never learned that of me; I give thee none. No.

Want!

It is.

His hands on her stand.

If thou have thy head broken? The world is but my powers are there already. Tell us if you're worth your salt and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in. How dost, and ditches grave you all; but if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he thus advises us; and in my life.

I'm not thirsty. Better. Pillar of salt. O!

They say he never the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out. Rawhead and bloody bones.

Do you want to cross? Science. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York. I suggested to him, bring your luggage nobly on your head, sword, came in. Welcome, Sir John Paunch? Get twenty of them.

Much good dich thy good heart, will you draw near? But, Francis? Mr Bloom came to Kildare street.

Hereditary taste.

Must have felt it. My wounds ache at you.

But be he as he walked. Dost thou, that you and I feed not. The commonwealth their boots. Underfed she looks too.

Too many drugs spoil the broth. I must go after him. Tales of the language it is. With it an abode of bliss. Let me see. Robinson, I will back him straight: O! Sirrah carrier, what a beast with the losers let it not?

Moo.

No, no, M Glade's men. My lord, to horse, and taste Lord Timon's? Very hard to bargain with that eye of his wine soothed his palate.

Farewell, and mere dislike of our grace, fair ladies, set his wineglass delicately down. Famished ghosts. Thinking of Spain. O, Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court. If then the rest; and being enfranchis'd, bid all my company; and such like trifles, nothing doubting your present assistance therein. No. Of course aristocrats, then am I now I remember me, Apemantus?

Women too. —His name is Harry Percy and brave Archibald, that. And may the Lord, sir. Come, let's seek him. A good layer.

Sizing me up. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew. Thou hadst fire and Dives that lived in purple; for, Harry, now I?

An the indentures drawn?

Safer to eat the scruff off his own. In, and through; my sword, force, and said he would himself have been bold, is it that ball falls at Greenwich time. A bony form strode along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards.

His tongue clacked in compassion. Moral pub.

Ay.

Ah soap there I have a truant, love.

For worms, brave Percy.

With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. His heart quopped softly.

Show us over those apricots, meaning peaches.

Let them all. Hie, good Timon: hast thou there? It's not the physician; his present want seems more than I, what cheer?

'tis a worthy fellow. Nosey Flynn said. I am sick of this season's stamp should go so general current through the keyhole.

Most thankfully, my thrice gracious lord, you are eating rumpsteak.

No other in sight.

Almost certain.

Now the time being, then, your brown bastard is your pleasure? She was humming.

And with a pin, off from Lusk. Say it cuts lo. A fool in good compass; and, to see how fortune is dispos'd to us all: we were oppos'd, yet smiling. Sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins. Police whistle in his eyes.

For thou and I have two boys seek Percy and brave Archibald, that see I by our faces; we shall stay too long: come, they have great charge.

Egging raw youths on to them, and Francis. The full moon was the tenor, just coming out then.

With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears.

It grew bigger and bigger and bigger.

What then? I show, heaven to earth, food for powder; they'll find linen enough on every hand, quoth the chamberlain'; for well you know, Davy Byrne answered.

Tea. Looks he not for 't, dear, dear.

—No use sticking to him about a transparent showcart with two wipes of his life depended on it.

The sky. Thou hast a servant brow.

Every man here's so.

Not such damn fools. I have done, when your false masters eat of my intemperance: if I had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I am a peppercorn, a plaining hand on his throne sucking red jujubes white.

Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of William Miller, plumber, turned back his thoughts. Going the two days.

Different feel perhaps. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Can't bring back time.

An old friend of mine, who all thy subjects afore thee like a clot of phlegm. Mr Geo. Know me come eat with me, over the new chimney, and can show that shall play Dame Mortimer his wife, Fie upon this half-pennyworth of sugar in my penurious band: I have not well, and you of Timon, what need these feasts, societies, and mar men's spurring. But in the baking causeway.

Why comes he not well that painted it? Coming events cast their shadows before.

Come current for an accusation Betwixt my love, by God.

Feel as if they had them.

Sheet of her my handling them. They did right to venisons of the men.

Me.

Couldn't hear what the band. Those poor birds. She didn't like it. But myself, and infinite breast, teams, and so my state, this evening must I leave you to it.

Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy?

The painting is almost the natural man; a little, my lads, my lord.

Not you, four? Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. They split up in the blood off, all ambrosial. Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, passing away, other cityful coming, passing. What? Maul her a bit. Time to be a beggar's dog and give it over; by which account, our plot is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put him up; let prisons swallow 'em, and does he outs with the rest below, bowing his head uncertainly. Nosey Flynn said. Before I knew nothing; be not Jack Falstaff do in the way it curves there.

Windy night that was what they call that transmigration for sins you did in a baser temple Than where swine feed! Going the two days. Of course aristocrats, then returns. I prithee, lend me thine.

Wellmeaning old man still. Keep me going.

Three days imagine groaning on a new moon out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim.

They have no sooner achieved but we'll set upon some dozen,—my lords!

I be sure of it. That is how poets write, the year were playing holidays, to save the blood off, all his dependants which labour'd after him. Wouldn't have it.

Raise Cain. Can you eat roots and drink it? Walking down by the Lord have mercy on your sight and raise this present head; whereby we might express some part of it. Pepper's ghost idea. Nasty customers to tackle.

Mr Bloom smiled O rocks!

My blood hath been so at war, and bring me hither. By God, he said. Accept my little present. Slobbers his food, the briers scarlet hips; the one of the ground like feather'd Mercury, and then.

Dth, dth, dth! Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. I mean to say or do something or cherchez la femme. Flowers her eyes. With hungered flesh obscurely, he speaks most vilely of you to know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me once. A pallid suetfaced young man polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and dress'd myself in such a deal of spleen, to be spoonfed first. Molly. Mackerel they called me. Just the place too. Charley Kavanagh used to call tepid paper stuck. To the right. He always walks outside the lampposts. My heart! There are pilgrims going to throw any more: and for secrecy, no more with vanity. Haunting face. Today. Phosphorus it must be done with. The thought that the other one Lizzie Twigg.

Thou wilt not tell me, at such a parley would I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family. His friends, if you have throats to answer them all.

Milly too rock oil and flour. Working tooth and jaw. Could whistle in his mind's eye.

[biofunmy]

How A Village In Ukraine Based On “Fiddler On The Roof” Got Dragged Into The Impeachment Inquiry

Christopher Miller for BuzzFeed News

An entrance to Anatevka Jewish Refugee Community

ANATEVKA, Ukraine — Less than 20 miles outside of the Ukrainian capital, Kyiv, there’s a little village inspired by Fiddler on the Roof that is playing an outsize role in the political scandal embroiling Washington, thanks to a cast of characters that includes the village’s honorary mayor.

And who’s he?

None other than Rudolph W. Giuliani, who was recently presented with an oversize ceremonial key to the village by its pro-Trump rabbi founder.

Anatevka, named after the village from the musical, was founded in 2014 by Rabbi Moshe Reuven Azman, primarily as a refuge for Jewish families displaced by Russia’s five-year war against Ukraine in the country’s eastern Donbass region that has killed around 13,000 people.

The Anatevka project was also at the center of an aborted effort — brokered by Giuliani’s associates Lev Parnas and Igor Fruman — to get the former mayor of New York to come to Ukraine in May for a meeting with Volodymyr Zelensky, then the president-elect, whom he planned to push for investigations that would help President Donald Trump politically. Among the village’s funders are a former pro-Russian Ukrainian presidential candidate, a notorious Kazakh oligarch — and Fruman.

Fruman and Parnas stand accused of funneling money, much of it allegedly foreign, into Republican campaigns in the United States. The two men pleaded not guilty to four counts of campaign finance violations in a federal court in New York City on Wednesday and are now awaiting trial.

Meanwhile, another aspect of their alleged influence campaign has gone relatively unexamined.

For at least two years, Parnas and Fruman made donations to, and solicited financial support for, Jewish charitable causes as part of an international effort to build ties with influential politicians, according to interviews and records obtained by BuzzFeed News and the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project.

In addition to contributions to the Anatevka project, financial documents show that Fruman and Parnas made a previously undisclosed donation of $25,000 to an affiliate of the National Council of Young Israel, a New York–based nonprofit run by Joseph Frager, who was formerly a fundraiser for the outgoing United States energy secretary, Rick Perry. The donation was given in the same month Parnas and Fruman traveled to Israel with NCYI and Republicans such as Mike Huckabee and Anthony Scaramucci.

The Giuliani associates’ financial support of both charitable causes appears to have bought them access to conservative figures in the US and Israel, as well as businesspeople in Ukraine. That access helped to bolster their back-channel campaign with Giuliani to try to dig up dirt on, and push conspiracy theories about, the Democratic presidential candidate and former vice president Joe Biden.

The payment to the Young Israel affiliate was from a bank account likely among those subpoenaed last week by the grand jury looking into the men’s trail of extravagant spending, as well as financial ties to figures including Giuliani, whose shadowy efforts in Ukraine Democrats are zeroing in on as they build a case for the impeachment of Trump.

When asked if Parnas and Fruman would comment about this article, their lawyer, John Dowd, said: “Don’t hold your breath.”

Angela Weiss / Getty Images

Rudy Giuliani lounges in the lobby of the Trump International Hotel in Washington, DC, his tie undone, alongside Parnas and Fruman.

Grinning widely as Parnas drapes an arm across his shoulder, Giuliani looks into a phone while someone records a video of them. He greets his friend Azman: “Moshe, how are ya, baby?”

The three men chuckle and each flash a thumbs-up before telling their rabbi friend, “We love you.”

The scene plays out in a now-viral video shot in 2018 that was published on the Facebook page for the Anatevka Jewish Refugee Community. In the video, which was unearthed this month by Jewish Insider, Giuliani and his associates discuss plans to soon visit Ukraine and Anatevka — “the best place in the world,” Fruman says.

The village of Anatevka, located just miles from the fictional setting of Fiddler on the Roof, is a dusty, fenced-in, and mostly treeless cluster of buildings. This week, work crews could be seen building two new structures. Residents who had relocated from the eastern war zone said that, despite the village’s lack of amenities, they were thankful for a peaceful place to live and a roof over their heads. As they spoke, a young girl rode by on a bicycle, an activity that one man said she wouldn’t have been able to safely do back in the east.

The site, which also contains the nearly 200-year-old grave of a prominent Hasidic rabbi, Mordechai Twersky, currently houses around 140 people. Its facilities include schools for children, according to the settlement’s administrator, Yoel Azman, who is the rabbi’s son.

The project has thus far cost somewhere between $6 million and $7 million, said the younger Azman, adding, “We’re constructing buildings every two or three months.”

He declined to discuss donations to the project, other than to point out plaques bearing donors’ names scattered around the complex. A tree sculpture adorned with those names in the center of the complex provided a fuller picture of Anatevka’s benefactors.

The list, mainly businesspeople from the former Soviet Union, included such controversial figures as Vadim Rabinovich, a Ukrainian oligarch, 2014 presidential candidate, and lawmaker who founded a pro-Russian party with a close friend of Vladimir Putin, and Alexander Mashkevich, a Kazakh Israeli mining billionaire whose company, Eurasian National Resources Corporation, is being investigated for corruption in the United Kingdom. ENRC has denied the allegations.

For at least two years, Fruman has also been a public backer of the project. In late 2017, he set up a New York–based charity, American Friends of Anatevka, which, according to its financial records, took in just over $1,300 that year. Figures for 2018 are not yet publicly available.

In early 2018, Fruman also organized for a consignment of yellow American school buses to be sent to the village. The shipment was a debacle.

“None of them actually worked,” said David Milman, Rabbi Azman’s deputy. “But that’s not his fault. He bought some written-off buses, and they were transported to Ukraine. We spent a lot of time and money on customs clearing and, after that, we discovered they weren’t suitable for transporting small children.”

Christopher Miller for BuzzFeed News

A tree adorned with the names of donors stands on the grounds of Anatevka.

One of the bigger mishaps faced by Anatevka was the cancellation of the planned visit by Giuliani in May, which fell apart after Zelensky refused to take a meeting with him, and Giuliani faced public backlash over the trip.

The attention garnered by the trip was one of the first hints of what would become the impeachment scandal that has consumed the White House, revealing the links between Giuliani and a cast of characters in Ukraine.

Before canceling the trip, Giuliani told the New York Times he intended to give a paid speech to an unnamed Jewish group in Ukraine. In a Facebook post four days later, Azman revealed Giuliani had been invited to speak by both the Anatevka community and Fruman’s New York–based charity.

Instead of going to Ukraine, Giuliani and Parnas traveled to Paris the following week, where they met Nazar Kholodnytsky, the head of Ukraine’s Specialized Anti-Corruption Prosecutor’s Office, who was one of the sources for Giuliani’s back-channel Ukraine campaign. Azman also flew in to join them and presented the former mayor of New York with the symbolic key to Anatevka, a moment the rabbi posted about on Facebook.

“When Giuliani had to cancel his visit in May for political reasons, he called Rabbi Azman and told him he wanted to meet anyway,” Milman said. “He had already bought a good bottle of kosher cognac for the rabbi and wanted to present it to him.”

Giuliani did not respond to a request for comment about this article. Reached by phone, Azman refused to discuss potential payments to Giuliani and his relationship with him.

“I don’t want to be involved in [an] American political scandal. I work with refugees,” Azman said, referring to Anatevka. “It’s a really beautiful project, and now you want to involve it in dirty politics.”

Parnas and Fruman made use of Giuliani’s closeness to the project to attempt to direct money toward the New York charity, rather than toward the local fund for the Anatevka project. According to a Ukrainian businessperson who encountered Parnas and Fruman in Kyiv this year, the two men used Giuliani’s planned visit to Anatevka as a selling point to drum up contributions to the project from members of the country’s Jewish community.

The businessperson, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said he found it strange that the two men were asking Ukrainian businesspeople to send money to the US-based nonprofit.

“How come I should give to an American charity?” the businessperson recalled replying to Parnas and Fruman, adding that he told them it would make more sense to donate directly to the Ukrainian charity.

Photos posted by Azman to Facebook show that his relationship with Giuliani goes back at least as far as January 2017, when the two of them were pictured together at Kyiv’s Brodsky Synagogue. The pictures also show Fruman as a speaker at a May 2018 event at Anatevka. Another image shared by Azman showed him, Giuliani, Parnas, and Fruman sitting with other men around a table at an undisclosed location on Nov. 2, 2018 as their Ukraine campaign geared up.

Azman declined to speak about his relationship with Fruman and Parnas, asking for a reporter to call back later to set up a time for an interview. A subsequent call went ignored. Another was answered by his press secretary, who said the rabbi would not be available for an interview. The next day, Milman said Azman would no longer be speaking to the media.

Parnas and Fruman were, by this point, earning a reputation as hustlers in Republican circles, jetting around the world, and pressing people from all walks of life for money while touting their connections to Giuliani and the Trump administration.

While they supported Anatevka in Ukraine, Parnas and Fruman also built political ties in the US via at least one five-figure donation to Chovevei Zion, an affiliate of the National Council of Young Israel, an Orthodox Jewish nonprofit.

Financial records show the men donated $25,000 to the organization on Aug. 21, 2018, from one of their companies, Global Energy Partners LLC. The company has a similar name to Global Energy Producers, a Delaware LLC set up by the men to pursue a deal selling American liquefied natural gas (LNG) to Ukraine.

A $325,000 donation made in 2018 in the name of Global Energy Producers to America First Action, a pro-Trump super PAC, is one of several political contributions that US prosecutors allege in their indictment to have been made while Fruman and Parnas were concealing the true origin of the money.

Young Israel, an association of over 100 US Orthodox synagogues, has in recent years become a staunch supporter of Trump and the Israeli right, a partisan shift that caused some to split from the group. The association’s first vice president, New York gastroenterologist Joseph Frager, is a longtime supporter of conservative Republicans, including Energy Secretary Rick Perry and former Arkansas governor Mike Huckabee.

Both Fruman and Parnas attended a trip organized by Frager to Israel in late July and early August 2018, which was attended by Huckabee and former Trump White House spokesperson Anthony Scaramucci. On the trip, Parnas and Fruman met David Friedman, the US ambassador to Israel, and were pictured together with the son of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu at the home of Israeli billionaire and conservative donor Simon Falic.

Also pictured on the Israel trip with Fruman, Parnas, and Huckabee was Anatevka’s Azman.

When asked about the 2018 trip, Scaramucci said he interacted with Parnas and Fruman “four or fives times maybe,” calling them “friendly.”

“Igor had difficulty with English. Lev spoke English fluently. And he was a talkative guy, a pleasant guy, didn’t think anything of him one way or the other,” he said, adding that there was one thing about the men that stood out. “They were name-dropping Rudy like a machine gunner.”

Scaramucci said he thought about Parnas and Fruman again this week — after the two men pleaded not guilty to the charges — and about the fact that they had dined and posed with Trump on several occasions.

“What you have to understand about Trump, despite the bombast and the big rallies, he’s a fairly reclusive guy. You know, like when he’s home, he wants to be alone, reading magazines and newspapers and watching TV. He’s not hosting like, you know, 200-person parties and stuff like that. It’s not his personality,” Scaramucci said. “So if you’re you’re having dinner with him in the White House residence, he knows who the hell you are.”

The White House did not respond to a request for comment.

Fruman and Parnas, and their LNG export company, Global Energy Producers, were handed Young Israel’s Chovevei Zion (Lovers of Zion) award at a gala in New York in March this year, an event attended by Giuliani and Huckabee. Also in attendance were Rep. Kevin McCarthy and Tommy Hicks Jr., co-chair of the Republican National Committee and former head of America First Action — both of whom had received donations from Fruman and Parnas in 2018.

Josh Nass, owner of a New York–based public relations agency, recalled Parnas and Fruman standing out in the VIP room before the gala dinner. Nass said he approached the men, who introduced themselves as entrepreneurs in the gas business. Fruman stayed mostly quiet, while Parnas did the talking.

“Based on what [Parnas] was saying, it seemed like he was trying to sell me on the fact that he was a very important, influential person that has some very exciting business propositions,” Nass said.

Parnas, Nass continued, boasted of “incredibly vast” connections “in the pro-Trump apparatus, and they go all the way up to the senior-most echelons of the party.”

What the men seemed less interested in was the charity event itself. “They didn’t mention the organization [Young Israel] a single time to me. We may as well have been at the Trump International Hotel,” Nass said.

Nass said the conversation was cut short when Parnas got a phone call from Giuliani.

Frager said that he did not introduce Parnas and Fruman to Perry. “Lev Parnas and Igor Fruman met Mike Huckabee at a Republican event in June of 2018 before they came on the Israel trip,” he said. Huckabee did not respond to a request for comment.

The president of Young Israel, Farley Weiss, said Parnas and Fruman’s $25,000 donation was connected to their attendance on the 2018 Israel trip. “I don’t know [Parnas and Fruman], and if I met them it was very brief. Likely I was in a picture with them at the [March gala] dinner, but they did not give us a donation for that honor,” Weiss said.

The men were given an award at that event in exchange for bringing Giuliani, he said. ●

Sahred From Source link World News

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[iamastrongchristian-blog]

Read Your Bible: Twenty-Nine Reasons Why the Bible Is Superior to Every Other Book

Most people do not understand the uniqueness and superiority of this great book.  It is a book like no other book.  If someone asks you for the meaning of the word unique, you might as well say it means “Bible”.  Unique in the dictionary is defined as: the one and only.  It also means: to be different from all others, having no like or equal.

1. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN THE FACT THAT IT IS THE MOST RELIABLE HISTORIC DOCUMENT OF ALL TIME.   When we do not have the original historical document, we must establish how reliable the copies are.  This is done in two ways: I. The more identical manuscript copies of the original we have, the more sure we are that the copies reflect what is in the original document. II. The shorter the time interval between the copy and the original, the more sure we are that the copy reflects what is in the original.

“There are more than 5,300 known Greek manuscripts of the New Testament.  Add over 10,000 Latin Vulgate and at least 9,300 other early versions (MSS) and we have more than 24,000 manuscripts copies of portions of the New Testament in existence today.” “No other document even begins to approach such numbers and attestation.  In comparison, the book “Iliad” by Homer is second to the Bible and it has only 643 manuscripts that still survive.  The first complete preserved text of Homer dates from the 13th century.” John Warwick Montgomery says that “To be sceptical of the resultant text of the New Testament books is to allow all of classical antiquity to slip into obscurity, for no documents of the ancient period are as well attested bibliographically as the New Testament.” Sir Frederic G. Kenyon, who was the director and principal librarian of the British Museum says, “…besides number, the manuscripts of the New Testament differ from those of the classical authors, and this time the difference is clear gain.  In no other case is the interval of time between the composition of the book and the date of the earliest extant manuscripts so short as in that of the New Testament.  The books of the New Testament were written in the latter part of the first century; the earliest extant manuscripts (trifling scraps excepted) are of the fourth century - say from 250 to 300 years later.” “This may sound a considerable interval, but it is nothing to that which parts most of the great classical authors from their earliest manuscripts.  We believe that we have in all essentials an accurate text of the seven extant plays of Sophocles; yet the earliest substantial manuscript upon which it is based was written more than 1400 years after the poet’s death.”

Kenyon continues in The Bible and Archaeology: “The interval then between the dates of original composition and the earliest extant evidence becomes so small as to be in fact negligible, and the last foundation for any doubt that the scriptures have come down to us substantially as they were written has now been removed.  Both the authenticity and the general integrity of the books of the New Testament may be regarded as finally established.”

2.  THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR TO OTHER BOOKS BECAUSE ARCHAEOLOGY HAS CONSTANTLY CONFIRMED ITS HISTORICAL ACCURACY AND VALIDITY. “Nelson Glueck, the renowned Jewish archaeologist, wrote: “It may be stated categorically that no archaeological discovery has ever controverted a biblical reference.”  He continued his assertion of “the almost incredibly accurate historical memory of the Bible, and particularly so when it is fortified by archaeological fact.” William F. Albright, known for his reputation as one of the great archaeologists, states: “There can be no doubt that archaeology has confirmed the substantial historicity of Old Testament tradition.”

Albright adds: “The excessive scepticism shown toward the Bible by important historical schools of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, certain phases of which still appear periodically, has been progressively discredited.  Discovery after discovery has established the accuracy of innumerable details, and has brought increased recognition to the value of the Bible as a source of history.”

3. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS UNITY AND CONTINUITY. Over forty authors wrote sixty-six books over a period of 1,500 years.  Many never saw the writings of the others and yet there is no contradiction between any two of them. It is very unlikely, if not impossible, to collect any group of books of any other forty men on any subject and find that they agree, as it is with the Bible.

Nine Facts about the Unity and Continuity of the Bible

1. The Bible was written over a 1,500 years span. 

2. The Bible was written over 40 generations. 

3. The Bible was written by over 40 authors from every walk of life: 

§ Moses, a political leader, trained in the universities of  Egypt § Peter, a fisherman § Amos, a herdsman § Joshua, a military general § Nehemiah, a cupbearer § Daniel, a prime minister § Luke, a doctor § Solomon, a king § Matthew, a tax collector § Paul, a rabbi 4. The Bible was written in different places:

§ Moses in the wilderness § Jeremiah in a dungeon § Daniel on a hillside and in a palace § Paul, inside prison walls § Luke, while travelling § John, on the isle of Patmos § Others in the rigors of a military campaign

5. The Bible was written at different times:

§ David in times of war § Solomon in times of peace 6. The Bible was written during different moods:

§ Some writing from the heights of joy and others writing from depths of sorrow and despair 7. The Bible was written on three continents:

§ Asia, Africa and Europe 8. The Bible was written in three languages:

§ Hebrew: The language of the Old Testament.  It was called “the language of Judah” in 2 Kings 18:26-28 and in Isaiah 19:18, “the language of Canaan” § Aramaic: This was the “common language” of the Near East until the time of   Alexander the Great (6th century BC - 4th century BC) § Greek: The New Testament language.  This was the international language at the time of Christ 9. The Bible includes in its subject matter hundreds of controversial subjects.  A controversial subject is one, which creates opposing opinion when mentioned or discussed. 

 Biblical authors spoke on hundreds of controversial subjects with harmony and continuity from Genesis to Revelation. The result is one unfolding story: “God’s redemption of man!” 

What F.F. Bruce said about the Bible “Any part of the human body can only be properly explained in reference to the whole body.  And any part of the Bible can only be properly explained in reference to the whole Bible.” “The Bible, at first sight, appears to be a collection of literature - mainly Jewish.  If we inquire into the circumstance under which the various Biblical documents were written, we find that they were written at intervals over a space of nearly 1400 years.”

“The writers wrote in various lands, from Italy in the west to Mesopotamia and possibly Persia in the east.” “The writers themselves were a heterogeneous number of people, not only separated from each other by hundreds of years and hundreds of miles, but also belonging to the most diverse walks of life.  In their ranks we have kings, herdsmen, soldiers, legislators, fishermen, statesmen, courtiers, priests and prophets, a tent-making Rabbi and a Gentile physician, not to speak of others of whom we know nothing apart from the writings they have left us.” “The writings themselves belong to a great variety of literary types.  They include history, law (civil, criminal, ethical, ritual, and sanitary), religious poetry, didactic treatises, lyric poetry, parable and allegory, biography, personal correspondence, personal memoirs and diaries.”

4. THE BIBLE IS MORE DISTINCTIVE THAN EVERY OTHER BOOK EVER PUBLISHED.   The Bible is superior to other books in its origin, formation, doctrines, principles, claims, moral tone, histories, prophecies, revelation, literature, present redemption and eternal benefits.

5. UNLIKE OTHER BOOKS PUBLISHED, THE BIBLE HAS A VAST INFLUENCE IN THIS WORLD.   The Bible has blessed millions of people of every generation.  The Bible has contributed to the creation of the greatest civilizations on earth.  It has given man the highest hope and destiny.

6. THE WISEST MOST GODLY AND HONEST MEN IN THIS WORLD ACKNOWLEDGE THE BIBLE AS THE WORD OF GOD.  

Only infidels and ungodly people reject the Bible. 7. UNLIKE MANY OTHER BOOKS, THE BIBLE WAS WRITTEN BY HONEST AND GODLY MEN.  

This is because it condemns all sin and records the sins and faults of its writers as well as others.  This is something evil men would not do.  Even good men would not do this unless they were inspired to do so to help others. 8. THE BIBLE MEETS ALL THE NEEDS OF MANKIND.  

All man’s present and eternal needs are met by the Bible.

9. THE BIBLE HAS BEEN PRESERVED THROUGH THE AGES.  

Whole kingdoms and religions have sought in vain to destroy it.  God has made the Bible indestructible and victorious. 10. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR TO OTHER BOOKS BECAUSE THE HEAVENLY AND ETERNAL CHARACTER OF ITS CONTENTS PROVE IT TO BE OF GOD.

11. THE PREACHING OF THE BIBLE CHANGES THE LIVES OF PEOPLE.   The response of humanity to this great book shows that it is of a supernatural and superior nature.

12. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS INFINITE DEPTHS AND LOFTY IDEALS.

13. THE BIBLE STANDS OUT IN SUPREMACY BY THE UNBELIEVABLE NUMBER OF PROPHECIES THAT IT CONTAINS.   About three thousand three hundred prophecies have been fulfilled.  Predictions made hundreds and even thousands of years earlier have been fulfilled.  Not one detail has failed yet.  About 2,908 verses are being fulfilled or will be fulfilled.

14. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS MIRACULOUS NATURE.   Hundreds of miracles are recorded in the scriptures.  Miracles happen daily among those who pray and claim Bible promises.

15. THE BIBLE IS ALONE IN ITS FLAWLESSNESS.   The Bible is scientifically and historically correct.  No one man has found the Bible at fault in any of its many hundreds of statements of history, astronomy, botany, geology, geography or any other branch of learning.

16. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS ADAPTABILITY. �� The Bible is always up to date on every subject.  It can be applied to the lives of people who live in Africa, Asia, Europe or America.  It was useful to people who lived a thousand years ago and it is still relevant to the people who live in the twenty first century.

17. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS MORAL AND SPIRITUAL POWER.   It meets perfectly every spiritual and moral need of man.

18. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS DOCTRINES.   The doctrines of the Bible surpass all human ideas or principles of relationships, religion and culture.

19. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR BECAUSE IT CLAIMS TO BE THE WORD OF GOD.   Over three thousand eight hundred times, Bible writers claimed that God spoke what they wrote.  In other words, the Bible itself claims to be the Word of God.

20. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN SECULAR HISTORY. Many pagan, Jewish and Christian writers confirm the facts of the Bible.  They actually quote the Bible as being genuine, authentic and inspired of God.

21. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS WORLDWIDE CIRCULATION.  

Most authors have their books circulated within communities.  You will be surprised to find that many authors who are very popular are not known at all in other parts of the world.  Not so with the Bible! ”The Bible has been read by more people and published in more languages than any other book.  There have been more copies produced of its entirety and more portions and selections than any other book in history. Some will argue that in a designated month or year more of a certain book was sold.  However, over all there is absolutely no book that reaches or even begins to compare to the circulation of the Scriptures.”

What HY Pickering said about the Bible

Hy Pickering said that about 30 years ago, for the British and Foreign Bible Society to meet its demands, it had to publish: “One copy every three seconds day and night, 22 copies every minute day and night, 1,369 copies every hour day and night, 32,876 copies every day in the year.” It is deeply interesting to know that this amazing number of Bibles was dispatched to various parts of the world in 4,583 cases weighing 490 tons!

22. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS WORLDWIDE TRANSLATIONS. The Bible was one of the first major books translated (Septuagint: Greek translation of the Hebrew Old Testament, ca 250 BC).  It has been translated and retranslated and paraphrased more than any other book in existence. Encyclopaedia Britannica says, “By 1966 the whole Bible had appeared… in 240 languages and dialects… one or more whole books of the Bible in 739 additional ones, a total publication of 1,280 languages.” Three thousand Bible translators between 1950-1960 were at work translating the Scriptures. The Bible factually stands unique (“one of a kind; alone in its class”) in its translation.

23. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS CONTINUED EXISTENCE THROUGH THE YEARS. Being written on material that perishes, having to be copied and recopied for hundreds of years before the invention of the printing press, did not diminish its style, correctness or existence.  The Bible, compared with other ancient writings, has more manuscript evidence than any 10 pieces of classical literature combined. What John Warwick Montgomery said about the Bible “To be sceptical of the resultant text of the New Testament books is to allow all of classical antiquity to slip into obscurity, for no documents of the ancient period are as well attested bibliographically as the New Testament.” What John Lea said about the Bible John Lea in The Greatest Book in the World compared the Bible with Shakespeare’s writings.  He had this to say: “It seems strange that the text of Shakespeare, which has been in existence less than two hundred and eight years, should be far more uncertain and corrupt than that of the New Testament, now over eighteen centuries old, during  nearly fifteen of which it existed only in manuscript. …With perhaps a dozen or twenty exceptions, the text of every verse in the New Testament may be said to be so far settled by general consent of scholars, that any dispute as to its readings must relate rather to the interpretation of the words than to any doubts respecting the words themselves.  But in everyone of Shakespeare’s thirty seven plays there are probably a hundred readings still in dispute, a large portion of which materially affects the meaning of the passages in which they occur.”

24.  THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS ABILITY TO SURVIVE PERSECUTION. What Sidney Collett said about the Bible Voltaire, the noted French infidel who died in 1778, said that in one hundred years from his time Christianity would be swept from existence and passed into history.  But what has happened?  Voltaire has passed into history, while the circulation of the Bible continues to increase in almost all parts of the world, carrying blessing wherever it goes. Concerning the boast of Voltaire on the extinction of Christianity and the Bible in 100 years, Geisler and Nix point out that “only fifty years after his death the Geneva Bible Society used his press and house to produce stacks of Bibles.” What an irony of history! In AD 303, Diocletian issued an edict (Cambridge History of the Bible, Cambridge University Press, 1963) to stop Christians from worshipping and to destroy their Scriptures. “…An imperial letter was everywhere promulgated, ordering the razing of the churches to the ground and the destruction by fire of the Scriptures, and proclaiming that those who held high positions would lose all civil rights while those in households, if they persisted in the profession of Christianity, would be deprived of their liberty.” The historic irony of the above edict to destroy the Bible is that Eusebius records an edict given 25 years later by Constantine, the emperor of Diocletian, that 50 copies of the Scriptures should be prepared at the expense of the government.

25. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS ABILITY TO ENDURE CRITICISM. What H.L. Hastings said about the Bible H.L. Hastings has forcibly illustrated the unique way the Bible has withstood the attacks of infidels and sceptics. “Infidels for eighteen hundred years have been refuting and overthrowing this book, and yet it stands today as solid as a rock.  Its circulation increases, and it is more loved and cherished and read today than ever before. Infidels, with all their assaults, make about as much impression on this book as a man with a tack hammer would on the Pyramids of Egypt. When the French monarch proposed the persecution of the Christians in his dominion, an old statesman and warrior said to him, “Sire, the church of God is an anvil that has worn out many hammers.”  So the hammers of infidels have been pecking away at this book for ages, but the hammers are worn out, and the anvil still endures. If this book had not been the book of God, men would have destroyed it long ago.  Emperors and popes, kings and priests, princes and rulers have all tried their hand at it; they die and the book still lives.” What Bernard Ramm said about the Bible “A thousand times over, the death knell of the Bible has been sounded, the funeral procession formed, the inscription cut on the tombstone, and committal read.  But somehow the corpse never stays put. No other book has been so chopped, knifed, sifted, scrutinized, and vilified.  What book on philosophy or religion or psychology or belles letters of classical or modern times has been the subject to such a mass attack as the Bible?  With such venom and scepticism?  With such thoroughness and erudition?  Upon every chapter, line and tenet? The Bible is still loved by millions, read by millions, and studied by millions.”

26.  THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN THE NATURE OF ITS PROPHECIES.   Wilbur Smith who compiled a personal library of 25,000 volumes writes: “It is the only volume ever produced by man, or a group of men in which is to be found a large body of prophecies relating to individual nations, to Israel, to all the peoples of the earth, to certain cities, and to the coming of One who was to be the Messiah; The ancient world had many different devices for determining the future, known as divination, but not in the entire gamut of Greek and Latin literature, even though they use the words prophet and prophecy, can we find any real specific prophecy of a great historic event to come in the distant future, nor any prophecy of a Saviour to arise in the human race. “Mohammedanism cannot point to any prophecies of the coming of Mohammed uttered hundreds of years before his birth.  Neither can the founders of any cult in this country rightly identify any ancient text specifically foretelling their appearance.” 27. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS HONESTY. The Bible deals very frankly with the sins of its characters.  Read the biographies today, and see how they try to cover up, overlook or ignore the shady side of people.  Take the great literary geniuses; most are painted as saints.  The Bible does not do it that way.  It simply tells it like it is.

28. THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR IN ITS INFLUENCE ON SURROUNDING LITERATURE. What Cleland B. McAfee said about the Bible Cleland B. McAfee writes in The Greatest English Classic: ”If every Bible in any considerable city were destroyed, the Book could be restored in all its essential parts from the quotations on the shelves of the city public library.  There are works, covering almost all the great literary writers, devoted especially to showing how much the Bible has influenced them.” What Kenneth Scott Latourette Said about Jesus Kenneth Scott Latourette, former Yale historian, says: “It is evidence of His importance, of the effect that He has had upon history and presumably, of the baffling mystery of His being that no other life ever lived on this planet has evoked so huge a volume of literature among so many peoples and languages, and that, far from ebbing, the flood continues to mount.” A professor once remarked:  “If you are an intelligent person, you will read the one book that has drawn more attention than any other, if you are searching for the truth!” 

29.  THE BIBLE IS SUPERIOR BECAUSE IT HAS SET UNUSUAL RECORDS. i. The Bible is the first religious book to be taken into outer space. ii. It is also one of the (if not the) most expensive books. Gutenberg’s Latin Vulgate Bible sold for over $100,000.  The Russians sold the Codex Sinaiticus (an early copy of the Bible) to England for $510,000. iii. The longest telegram in the world was the Revised Standard Version of the New Testament sent from New York to Chicago.

by Dag Heward-Mills

[everydaynuggets-blog]

Why the Bible Is Superior to Every Other Book

Most people do not understand the uniqueness and superiority of this great book. It is a book like no other book. If someone asks you for the meaning of the word unique, you might as well say it means "Bible". Unique in the dictionary is defined as: the one and only. It also means: to be different from all others, having no like or equal.

Twenty-Nine Reasons Why the Bible Is Superior to Every Other Book on Earth

1. The Bible is superior in the fact that it is the most reliable historic document of all time.

When we do not have the original historical document, we must establish how reliable the copies are. This is done in two ways:

i. The more identical manuscript copies of the original we have, the more sure we are that the copies reflect what is in the original document.

ii. The shorter the time interval between the copy and the original, the more sure we are that the copy reflects what is in the original.

"There are more than 5,300 known Greek manuscripts of the New Testament. Add over 10,000 Latin Vulgate and at least 9,300 other early versions (MSS) and we have more than 24,000 manuscripts copies of portions of the New Testament in existence today."

"No other document of antiquity even begins to approach such numbers and attestation. In comparison, the book Iliad by Homer is second with only 643 manuscripts that still survive. The first complete preserved text of Homer dates from the 13th century."

John Warwick Montgomery says that "to be sceptical of the resultant text of the New Testament books is to allow all of classical antiquity to slip into obscurity, for no documents of the ancient period are as well attested bibliographically as the New Testament."

Sir Frederic G. Kenyon, who was the director and principal librarian of the British Museum and second to none in authority for issuing statements about MSS, says, "…besides number, the manuscripts of the New Testament differ from those of the classical authors, and this time the difference is clear gain. In no other case is the interval of time between the composition of the book and the date of the earliest extant manuscripts so short as in that of the New Testament. The books of the New Testament were written in the latter part of the first century; the earliest extant manuscripts (trifling scraps excepted) are of the fourth century - say from 250 to 300 years later."

"This may sound a considerable interval, but it is nothing to that which parts most of the great classical authors from their earliest manuscripts. We believe that we have in all essentials an accurate text of the seven extant plays of Sophocles; yet the earliest substantial manuscript upon which it is based was written more than 1400 years after the poet's death."

Kenyon continues in The Bible and Archaeology: "The interval then between the dates of original composition and the earliest extant evidence becomes so small as to be in fact negligible, and the last foundation for any doubt that the scriptures have come down to us substantially as they were written has now been removed. Both the authenticity and the general integrity of the books of the New Testament may be regarded as finally established."

2. The Bible is superior to other books because archaeology has constantly confirmed its historical accuracy and validity.

"Nelson Glueck, the renowned Jewish archaeologist, wrote: "It may be stated categorically that no archaeological discovery has ever controverted a biblical reference." He continued his assertion of "the almost incredibly accurate historical memory of the Bible, and particularly so when it is fortified by archaeological fact."

William F. Albright, known for his reputation as one of the great archaeologists, states: "There can be no doubt that archaeology has confirmed the substantial historicity of Old Testament tradition."

Albright adds: "The excessive scepticism shown toward the Bible by important historical schools of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, certain phases of which still appear periodically, has been progressively discredited. Discovery after discovery has established the accuracy of innumerable details, and has brought increased recognition to the value of the Bible as a source of history."

3. The Bible is superior in its unity and continuity. Over forty authors wrote sixty-six books over a period of 1,500 years. Many never saw the writings of the others and yet there is no contradiction between any two of them.

Collect any group of books of any other forty men on any subject and see if they agree.

Nine Facts about the Unity and Continuity of the Bible

a. The Bible was written over a 1,500 years span.

b. The Bible was written over 40 generations.

c. The Bible was written by over 40 authors from every walk of life:

§ Moses, a political leader, trained in the universities of Egypt

§ Peter, a fisherman

§ Amos, a herdsman

§ Joshua, a military general

§ Nehemiah, a cupbearer

§ Daniel, a prime minister

§ Luke, a doctor

§ Solomon, a king

§ Matthew, a tax collector

§ Paul, a rabbi

d. The Bible was written in different places:

§ Moses in the wilderness

§ Jeremiah in a dungeon

§ Daniel on a hillside and in a palace

§ Paul, inside prison walls

§ Luke, while travelling

§ Others in the rigors of a military campaign.

e. The Bible was written at different times:

§ David in times of war

§ Solomon in times of peace

f. The Bible was written during different moods:

§ Some writing from the heights of joy and others writing from depths of sorrow and despair. g. The Bible was written on three continents:

§ Asia, Africa and Europe

h. The Bible was written in three languages:

§ Hebrew: The language of the Old Testament. It was called "the language of Judah" in 2 Kings 18:26-28 and in Isaiah 19:18, "the language of Canaan".

§ Aramaic: This was the "common language" of the Near East until the time of Alexander the Great (6th century BC - 4th century BC).

§ Greek: The New Testament language. This was the international language at the time of Christ.

i. The Bible includes in its subject matter hundreds of controversial subjects. A controversial subject is one, which creates opposing opinions when mentioned or discussed. Biblical authors spoke on hundreds of controversial subjects with harmony and continuity from Genesis to Revelation. The result is one unfolding story: "God's redemption of man!"

What F.F. Bruce Said about the Bible

"Any part of the human body can only be properly explained in reference to the whole body. And any part of the Bible can only be properly explained in reference to the whole Bible."

"The Bible, at first sight, appears to be a collection of literature - mainly Jewish. If we inquire into the circumstance under which the various Biblical documents were written, we find that they were written at intervals over a space of nearly 1400 years."

"The writers wrote in various lands, from Italy in the west to Mesopotamia and possibly Persia in the east."

"The writers themselves were a heterogeneous number of people, not only separated from each other by hundreds of years and hundreds of miles, but also belonging to the most diverse walks of life. In their ranks we have kings, herdsmen, soldiers, legislators, fishermen, statesmen, courtiers, priests and prophets, a tent-making Rabbi and a Gentile physician, not to speak of others of whom we know nothing apart from the writings they have left us."

"The writings themselves belong to a great variety of literary types. They include history, law (civil, criminal, ethical, ritual, and sanitary), religious poetry, didactic treatises, lyric poetry, parable and allegory, biography, personal correspondence, personal memoirs and diaries."

4. The Bible is more distinctive than every other book ever published. The Bible is superior to other books in its origin, formation, doctrines, principles, claims, moral tone, histories, prophecies, revelation, literature, present redemption and eternal benefits.

5. Unlike other books published, the Bible has a vast influence in this world. The Bible has blessed millions of people of every generation. The Bible has contributed to the creation of the greatest civilizations on earth. It has given man the highest hope and destiny.

6. The wisest most godly and honest men in this world acknowledge the Bible as the Word of God. Only infidels and ungodly people reject the Bible.

7. Unlike many other books, the Bible was written by honest and godly men. This is because it condemns all sin and records the sins and faults of its writers as well as others. This is something evil men would not do. Even good men would not do this unless they were inspired to do so to help others.

8. The Bible meets all the needs of mankind. All man's present and eternal needs are met by the Bible.

9. The Bible has been preserved through the ages. Whole kingdoms and religions have sought in vain to destroy it. God has made the Bible indestructible and victorious.

10. The Bible is superior to other books because the heavenly and eternal character of its contents prove it to be of God.

11. The preaching of the Bible changes the lives of people. The response of humanity to this great book shows that it is of a supernatural and superior nature.

12. The Bible is superior in its infinite depths and lofty ideals.

13. The Bible stands out in supremacy by the unbelievable number of prophecies that it contains. About three thousand three hundred prophecies have been fulfilled. Predictions made hundreds and even thousands of years earlier have been fulfilled. Not one detail has failed yet. About 2,908 verses are being fulfilled or will be fulfilled.

14. The Bible is superior in its miraculous nature. Hundreds of miracles are recorded in the scriptures.

Miracles happen daily among those who pray and claim Bible promises.

15. The Bible is alone in its flawlessness. The Bible is scientifically and historically correct. No one man has found the Bible at fault in any of its many hundreds of statements of history, astronomy, botany, geology, geography or any other branch of learning.

16. The Bible is superior in its adaptability. The Bible is always up to date on every subject. It can be applied to the lives of people who live in Africa, Asia, Europe or America. It was useful to people who lived a thousand years ago and it is still relevant to the people who live in the twenty first century.

17. The Bible is superior in its moral and spiritual power. It meets perfectly every spiritual and moral need of man.

18. The Bible is superior in its doctrines. The doctrines of the Bible surpass all human ideas or principles of relationships, religion and culture.

19. The Bible is superior because it claims to be the Word of God. Over three thousand eight hundred times, Bible writers claimed that God spoke what they wrote. In other words, the Bible itself claims to be the Word of God.

20. The Bible is superior in secular history. Many pagan, Jewish and Christian writers confirm the facts of the Bible. They actually quote the Bible as being genuine, authentic and inspired of God.

21. The Bible is superior in its worldwide circulation. Most authors have their books circulated within communities. You will be surprised to find that many authors who are very popular are not known at all in other parts of the world. Not so with the Bible!

23"The Bible has been read by more people and published in more languages than any other book. There have been more copies produced of its entirety and more portions and selections than any other book in history.

Some will argue that in a designated month or year more of a certain book was sold. However, over all there is absolutely no book that reaches or even begins to compare to the circulation of the Scriptures."

What HY Pickering said about the Bible

Hy Pickering said that about 30 years ago, for the British and Foreign Bible Society to meet its demands, it had to publish:

One copy every three seconds day and night, 22 copies every minute day and night, 1,369 copies every hour day and night, 32,876 copies every day in the year.

It is deeply interesting to know that this amazing number of Bibles was dispatched to various parts of the world in 4,583 cases weighing 490 tons!23

22. The Bible is superior in its worldwide translations.

The Bible was one of the first major books translated (Septuagint: Greek translation of the Hebrew Old Testament, ca 250 BC). It has been translated and retranslated and paraphrased more than any other book in existence.

Encyclopaedia Britannica says "by 1966 the whole Bible had appeared… in 240 languages and dialects… one or more whole books of the Bible in 739 additional ones, a total publication of 1,280 languages."

Three thousand Bible translators between 1950-1960 were at work translating the Scriptures.

The Bible factually stands unique ("one of a kind; alone in its class") in its translation.

The Bible is superior in its continued existence through the years.

Being written on material that perishes, having to be copied and recopied for hundreds of years before the invention of the printing press, did not diminish its style, correctness or existence. The Bible, compared with other ancient writings, has more manuscript evidence than any 10 pieces of classical literature combined.

What John Warwick Montgomery Said about the Bible

"To be sceptical of the resultant text of the New Testament books is to allow all of classical antiquity to slip into obscurity, for no documents of the ancient period are as well attested bibliographically as the New Testament."

What John Lea Said about the Bible

John Lea in The Greatest Book in the World compared the Bible with Shakespeare's writings. He had this to say:

"It seems strange that the text of Shakespeare, which has been in existence less than two hundred and eight years, should be far more uncertain and corrupt than that of the New Testament, now over eighteen centuries old, during nearly fifteen of which it existed only in manuscript.

With perhaps a dozen or twenty exceptions, the text of every verse in the New Testament may be said to be so far settled by general consent of scholars, that any dispute as to its readings must relate rather to the interpretation of the words than to any doubts respecting the words themselves. But in everyone of Shakespeare's thirty seven plays there are probably a hundred readings still in dispute, a large portion of which materially affects the meaning of the passages in which they occur."

24. The Bible is superior in its ability to survive persecution.

What Sidney Collett Said about the Bible:

Voltaire, the noted French infidel who died in 1778, said that in one hundred years from his time Christianity would be swept from existence and passed into history. But what has happened? Voltaire has passed into history, while the circulation of the Bible continues to increase in almost all parts of the world, carrying blessing wherever it goes.

Concerning the boast of Voltaire on the extinction of Christianity and the Bible in 100 years, Geisler and Nix point out that "only fifty years after his death the Geneva Bible Society used his press and house to produce stacks of Bibles." What An irony of history!

In AD 303, Diocletian issued an edict (Cambridge History of the Bible, Cambridge University Press, 1963) to stop Christians from worshipping and to destroy their Scriptures.

"…An imperial letter was everywhere promulgated, ordering the razing of the churches to the ground and the destruction by fire of the Scriptures, and proclaiming that those who held high positions would lose all civil rights while those in households, if they persisted in the profession of Christianity, would be deprived of their liberty."

The historic irony of the above edict to destroy the Bible is that Eusebius records the edict given 25 years later by Constantine, the emperor of Diocletian, that 50 copies of the Scriptures should be prepared at the expense of the government. 

25. The Bible is superior in its ability to endure criticism.

What H.L. Hastings Said about the Bible

H.L. Hastings has forcibly illustrated the unique way the Bible has withstood the attacks of infidels and sceptics.

"Infidels for eighteen hundred years have been refuting and overthrowing this book, and yet it stands today as solid as a rock. Its circulation increases, and it is more loved and cherished and read today than ever before.

Infidels, with all their assaults, make about as much impression on this book as a man with a tack hammer would on the Pyramids of Egypt.

When the French monarch proposed the persecution of the Christians in his dominion, an old statesman and warrior said to him, "Sire, the church of God is an anvil that has worn out many hammers." So the hammers of infidels have been pecking away at this book for ages, but the hammers are worn out, and the anvil still endures.

If this book had not been the book of God, men would have destroyed it long ago. Emperors and popes, kings and priests, princes and rulers have all tried their hand at it; they die and the book still lives."

What Bernard Ramm Said about the Bible

"A thousand times over, the death knell of the Bible has been sounded, the funeral procession formed, the inscription cut on the tombstone, and committal read. But somehow the corpse never stays put. No other book has been so chopped, knifed, sifted, scrutinized, and vilified. What book on philosophy or religion or psychology or belles letters of classical or modern times has been the subject to such a mass attack as the Bible? With such venom and scepticism? With such thoroughness and erudition? Upon every chapter, line and tenet?

The Bible is still loved by millions, read by millions, and studied by millions."

26. The Bible is superior in the nature of its prophecies.

Wilbur Smith who compiled a personal library of 25,000 volumes writes:

"It is the only volume ever produced by man, or a group of men in which is to be found a large body of prophecies relating to individual nations, to Israel, to all the peoples of the earth, to certain cities, and to the coming of One who was to be the Messiah;

The ancient world had many different devices for determining the future, known as divination, but not in the entire gamut of Greek and Latin literature, even though they use the words prophet and prophecy, can we find any real specific prophecy of a great historic event to come in the distant future, nor any prophecy of a Saviour to arise in the human race.

"Mohammedanism cannot point to any prophecies of the coming of Mohammed uttered hundreds of years before his birth. Neither can the founders of any cult in this country rightly identify any ancient text specifically foretelling their appearance." 

27. The Bible is superior in its honesty. The Bible deals very frankly with the sins of its characters. Read the biographies today, and see how they try to cover up, overlook or ignore the shady side of people. Take the great literary geniuses; most are painted as saints. The Bible does not do it that way. It simply tells it like it is.

28. The Bible is superior in its influence on surrounding literature.

What Cleland B. McAfee Said about the Bible

Cleland B. McAfee writes in The Greatest English Classic:

29"If every Bible in any considerable city were destroyed, the Book could be restored in all its essential parts from the quotations on the shelves of the city public library. There are works, covering almost all the great literary writers, devoted especially to showing how much the Bible has influenced them."

What Kenneth Scott Latourette Said about Jesus

Kenneth Scott Latourette, former Yale historian, says:

"It is evidence of His importance, of the effect that He has had upon history and presumably, of the baffling mystery of His being that no other life ever lived on this planet has evoked so huge a volume of literature among so many peoples and languages, and that, far from ebbing, the flood continues to mount."

A professor once remarked: "If you are an intelligent person, you will read the one book that has drawn mo 29. The Bible is superior because it has set unusual records.

i. The Bible is the first religious book to be taken into outer space.

ii. It is also one of the (if not the) most expensive books.

Gutenberg's Latin Vulgate Bible sold for over $100,000. The Russians sold the Codex Sinaiticus (an early copy of the Bible) to England for $510,000.

ii The longest telegram in the world was the Revised Standard Version of the New Testament sent from New York to Chicago.

by Dag Heward-Mills