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peirates · 4 years

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Photo taken from [Baalbek Roman Temple]

Latin was originally spoken by an eponymous group of ancient Italians. One of these Latin cities, the Romans, spread the language by conquering all of Italy, later the Mediterranean, then much of Europe and the Middle East. Although rarely spoken now, it is the mother of all Romance languages and contributes to about a third of English vocabulary. Its influence has since spread across the world through European imperialism; there are few places left that are completely unaffected by the Romans’ language and culture.

This particular post serves as both a beginner’s guide and a taster to what Latin is, with some common vocabulary along the way. Especially since many people are currently stuck at home due to Covid-19, and may like to stay occupied by learning a new language. Hope you enjoy!

N.B. Anything beginning with an asterisk (*) means that you may hear differently elsewhere, for example on Duolingo.

General

Latin is fundamentally a very difficult language, even for academics, and even if your native tongue is Romance. But I am not saying not to try, I am saying it is normal to struggle!

All ‘U’s were then written as ‘V’s, and all ‘J’s as ‘I’s. Modern Latin-learning tends to replace some ‘V’s with ‘U’s in order to facilitate reading. We have lost the exact pronunciations of classical Latin, not to mention differences between dialects, but the following explanations are some of the strongest estimates.

*‘V’ should be normally pronounced as /ʍ/, when between consonants as /u/.

*A standalone ‘I’ before another vowel becomes /j/ or /dʒ/.

Iuppiter servum in exilium pepulit.

[ Ivppiter servvm in exilivm pepvlit. ]

[ Yoo-pi-ter ser-woom in e-xi-li-oom pe-poo-lit. ]

Jupiter drove the slave into exile.

Iuppiter, Iovis (3, m.) - Jupiter, king of the gods servus, servi (2, m.) - slave in + acc. - into, to exilium, exilii (2, n.) - exile pello, pellere, pepuli, pulsum (3) - drive out, push, repel

Latin generally follows a SOV (subject, object, verb) sentence structure:

rex regnum amat.

The king loves his kingdom.

rex, regis (3, m.) - king regnum, regni (2, n.) - kingdom; power amo, amare, amavi, amatum (1) - love, like

There are no definite or indefinite articles (a/the) - normally, you must add them to your translation yourself depending on the context. There are relative pronouns (e.g. qui/quae/quod - who, which), demonstrative pronouns (e.g. hic/haec/hoc - this; he/she/it) and many other pronouns/determiners, but they are not required for every sentence.

*Unlike English, you do not capitalise the sentence’s first letter UNLESS that first letter is part of a name.

Most meanings are conveyed via changes in word endings (i.e. it relies on conjugating and declining) rather than word order. This makes Latin an inflected language.

Nouns

While English uses word order to show how nouns and adjectives relate to a situation, Latin uses endings and cases from different declensions to do the same. Latin uses 7 cases, but 2 of them (vocative and locative) are rarer.

nominative (nom.) - subject

vocative (voc.) - addressee: often follows ‘o’

accusative (acc.) - object

genitive (gen.) - possessor (of/‘s)

dative (dat.) - recipient (to/for)

ablative (abl.) - movement away (from) / instrumental (by/with) / location (at/in)

locative (loc.) - location (at/in)

Here’s an example with all 7 in action:

pater, o Attice, donum Iovis matri cum comite Romae dedit.

Atticus, my father gave Jupiter’s gift to my mother with his comrade in Rome.

pater, patris (3, m.) - father donum, doni (2, n.) - gift, present mater, matris (3, f.) - mother cum + abl. (only used for people) - with comes, comitis (3, m/f.) - companion, comrade, partner Roma, Romae (1, f.) - Rome do, dare, dedi, datum (1) - give; surrender, hand over

Noun endings change in case, gender and number. There are three genders: masculine (m.), feminine (f.), and neuter (n.). The two grammatical numbers are singular (sg.) and plural (pl.). A noun will abide by the endings of one of five possible declensions.

In dictionaries, like above, you will see a noun given as ‘nominative, genitive (declension, gender) - English meaning’. The genitive is always featured because it is the only case whose ending is specific to its own declension (other endings may be seen across declensions but have different cases each time). Therefore, if you know what a noun’s genitive is, you know what declension it is, and vice versa.

Adjectives

An adjective agrees with its related noun in case, gender and number. However, they do not always have the same endings; all adjectives decline as either 2nd m. / 1st / 2nd n. (also seen as 2-1-2) or 3rd.

Here, every adjective agrees with the adjacent noun in case, gender and number, but none has the same ending:

omnis puella, mulier pulchra, homo sapiens, puer stultus

every girl, the beautiful woman, the wise man, a foolish boy

omnis, omne (3) - every, all; whole puella, puellae (1, f.) - girl mulier, mulieris (3, f.) - woman pulcher, pulchra, pulchrum (2-1-2) - beautiful, handsome homo, hominis (3, m.) - man; human being sapiens, sapientis (3) - wise, knowing puer, pueri (2, m.) - boy stultus, stulta, stultum (2-1-2) - stupid, foolish

N.B. With exceptions, most Latin adjectives follow the noun.

However, that is not to say that nouns and adjectives can never have the same endings. They often do: Roman writers used this frequently as a literary device known as homoioteleuton.

equus magnus, feminae parvae, homines sapientes, dona laeta

a big horse, little women, wise men, the happy gifts

equus, equi (2, m.) - horse magnus, magna, magnum (2-1-2) - big, great, large femina, feminae (1, f.) - woman parvus, parva, parvum (2-1-2) - little, small laetus, laeta, laetum (2-1-2) - happy, cheerful, blessed

Sometimes you see an adjective without a noun. When this happens, translate the adjective as an adjective AND a noun:

fortis horrenda diu passus est.

The brave man suffered horrible things for a long time.

fortis, forte (3) - brave, strong, bold horrendus, horrenda, horrendum (2-1-2) - horrible, terrible, horrendous diu (adv.) - for a long time patior, pati, passus sum (3, deponent) - suffer, endure; allow, permit

N.B. horrenda is in the accusative neuter plural, hence ‘things’.

Verbs

The doers of verbs are shown by verb endings, unlike English which requires personal pronouns. Nominative personal pronouns can support a verb in Latin, but they are not required. They are best used to show contrast, unity or general emphasis - as if someone were pointing a finger at you - and this is why they are not seen often. Both sentences below are grammatically correct, but the second flows better:

ego dormire amo, tu dormire amas, nos amici apti sumus.

dormire amo, dormire amas, amici apti sumus.

I like to sleep, you like to sleep, we are suitable friends.

dormio, dormire, dormivi, dormitum (4) - sleep ego, me, mei (pers. pron.) - I, me, my tu, te, tui (pers. pron.) - you, you, your nos, nos, nostri (pers. pron.) - we, we, our amicus, amici; amica, amicae (2/1, m./f.) - friend aptus, apta, aptum (2-1-2) - suitable, apt, appropriate sum, esse, fui, futurum (irreg.) - be; be alive, exist, live

Latin uses the following tenses: present, future, future perfect, perfect, imperfect and pluperfect - and each comes with its own set of endings. There are also participles, supines, infinitives, imperatives, gerunds, gerundives, actives, passives, deponents and other structures to show contemporary, previous, subordinate or hypothetical events - these also come with their own stems and endings, but they often work like adjectives and so are not entirely unrecognisable.

Dictionaries present verbs as ‘present active, present active infinitive, perfect active, supine (conjugation)’. There are 4 conjugations, which are different sets of verb endings.

All Latin verbs come as either 1. active (I kill), 2. passive (I am killed) or 3. deponent (passive in form, active in meaning). Each comes with its own set of endings.

1. hic homo me interficit!

This man is killing me!

2. hic homo interficitur!

This man is being killed!

3. hic homo me interficere conatur!

This man is trying to kill me!

hic, haec, hoc (pron.) - this; he/she/it interficio, interficere, interfeci, interfectum (3) - kill, destroy conor, conari, conatus sum (1, deponent) - try, attempt

N.B. While most verbs can be active or passive interchangeably, deponents never switch. They are never seen with active endings or passive meanings.

The indicative (1) and subjunctive (2) moods distinguish expectations from reality. The indicative presents facts, while the subjunctive anything hypothetical from questions to wishes to fears. Each mood comes with its own set of endings.

1. vir dives me cupit.

The rich man wants me.

2. vir dives me cupiat.

May the rich man want me.

vir, viri (2, m.) - man; husband dives, divitis (gen.) (3) - rich, wealthy; wealthy man cupio, cupere, cupivi, cupitum (3) - desire, want, long for

Learning ancient versus modern languages

I’ve seen language-learners new to Latin comment on the difference in tone and content, sometimes even being discouraged by it.

Learning an ancient language which is no longer spoken today, i.e. ‘dead’, is very different from learning a modern foreign language. Some basic techniques don’t change, such as how to memorise vocab. However, the overall approaches are different because the overall goals are different - unless the goal is simple pure enjoyment, which is in fairness the best reason to learn!

Modern language studies are to encourage international communication and many other reasons.

Ancient language studies are almost entirely to study the ancient world, how it led to the modern world, and this is mostly done through analysing ancient sources in their original languages.

When studying Latin, you therefore are more likely to learn heavy vocabulary such as ‘die’ or ‘sacrifice’ before you learn ‘take a bath’ - some of the examples I use in this post aren’t cheerful. Classicists learn how to translate heavier content first because it is more commonly mentioned in the ancient sources which the entire subject relies upon - death comes up much more frequently in Caesar’s Gallic Wars than greetings.

Recommended resources

- Duolingo Latin course - if you want to learn Latin as you would a modern language.

- Memrise Latin courses - almost infinite number of vocabulary and idiom lists.

- Massolit Classics ($) - online lectures covering Greek and Roman history, culture and literature.

- Amazon page for John Taylor ($) - esteemed author of Latin textbooks from beginner level up.

- William Whitaker’s Words - reliable vocabulary translator in both directions.

- Perseus Digital Library - public archive of ancient texts in their original languages and many different English translations.

- Logeion - online dictionary for Latin and Classical Greek.

Final Word

Absolutely do not fret if anything confuses you; like all things worth doing, understanding and applying it will take time. I am making more in-depth posts on various aspects of Latin grammar and vocab, with exercises, in the very near future, so hold on tight. Thank you for reading!

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applesforhela · 4 years

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Adventures in Worldbuilding- Bilineal Structure

Some of my more interesting or enriching worldbuilding developments came out of different classes I took in college. In particular, Cultural and Linguistic Anthropology was a really cool class that looked at how culture and language influence and reflect each other, and generally taking a look at lots of interesting ways that cultures vary.

Family is always an interesting thing with worldbuilding, and when looking at generations you have a few basic words for how family is traced. Pretty simple stuff, three prefixes (patri-, matri-, and bi-) and two suffixes (-lineal, and -lateral) that can be combined in any way you choose. We all know patrilineal because that’s generally become the default for so many of us. Family names follow from father to son, wives take their husbands names when they marry, couples who want to have at least one son to carry on the family name, etc. Family as a larger concept is often bilateral, meaning everyone related to your mother and father. Hello, family reunions. Everyone’s family there even if they’re your cousins by your mother’s mother’s brother’s daughter. Matrilineal we often understand in concept, powerful women, empowered daughters. The Mosuo culture in China I think is a neat example, where you have multi-generational houses with grandma at the top, then her sons and daughters, and her daughters’ sons and daughters. Marriage isn’t exactly a thing because couples never move in together, and you stay in your mother’s home your whole life.

I’ve got a few cultures in my writing world that are matrilineal, but this post isn’t about them. This post is about a particular one that turned out to be bilineal. Kinda odd, kinda infuriating at times, but really interesting as things happen and the rules get tested. So. Bilineal. Some things pass father to son, others pass mother to daughter. Why, gods, did this become a thing? I don’t know. But it’s entrenched, and it ain’t going nowhere. Combined with this culture having a class system, bilineal inheritance ensures the class lines stay pretty rigid.

The father’s line passes down what is called “material wealth,” but don’t let that fool you into thinking it’s just about stuff. Homes, land, property, and money get passed down this way, yes, but so does the family name and in the case of the upper class titles as well (lord or baron or such).

The mother’s line passes down what is called “living wealth.” What the hell does that mean? In the case of farmers it means livestock, in the case of everyone it means class, and in the case of the upper class it means the right for a man to inherit his father’s title. If a man is set to inherit the title of baron from his father, he cannot actually claim the title unless he is married to a woman from at least equal standing in the class system who will in turn pass that social standing to their children so they can take up the baron title when it’s their turn.

In this way we have a collection of “royal” families, which is to say queen-maker families. The king comes from the Aluei paternal line, and his queen must come from one of the royal queen-maker families. All royal family names have the -uei ending to them, so you know them just by the sound of them. Tartans also come into play with the upper class, as there are five levels so to say within the upper class, noted by the number of colors in their tartans. This also helps with finding brides for sons who expect to inherit a title from their fathers. If the title belongs to a three-color tartan paternal line, the heir needs a bride from a three-color tartan paternal line or higher. His bride can come from a four-color tartan paternal line, but not a two-color tartan paternal line. There’s a neat part in noble weddings where the bride takes off a shawl from her family’s tartan in exchange for her husband’s tartan.

There are three royal lines/names that are explicitly not queen-maker families, but that’s a whole other can of worms, so we’re gonna ignore them for now.

What happens if two people from different classes fall in love and wish to marry? What happens if two people the same gender fall in love? How do the rules of this system come to play if there’s a potential bride from a different monarchy? Where are the loopholes and how can they be exploited?

These, my dears, are how plots are born. Build up a system with rules that probably hold up easily enough most of the time. Then look at it and say what if? This system has become one of my favorites to explore because it’s just so damn frustrating sometimes. One particular marriage between two characters will never cease to amaze me for how many technicalities they take advantage of not only in this system but in two or three others. So many court nobles either rolling in their graves or tearing out their hair because they are helpless to stop it happening.

And this is nothing to say of all the ways language comes to play, but that’s a topic for another time...

#writing #adventures in worldbuilding #worldbuilding #culture #it's complicated

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adogwithsocks · 5 years

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Frozen Ashes #1 - Into the Tundra

Word count: 3,317.

If only life were that easy now. He’d give anything to be in his childhood home, warm and safe. “How much further?” Alex grumbled, shivering as the cold penetrated his parka.

“The Boreas Sanctuary isn’t too far away anymore,” his mother called from ahead, “I can see the fence. It’s about two miles away. We’ll get there by noon if we keep moving.”

The dogs trailed behind the family, excitedly prancing around in the snow. What had once been eight was now just three, five of the eight having been taken by the Canine Flu.

It had come on so suddenly that Alex’s father hadn’t realized until it was too late. They quarantined the dogs, hoping that the sick would get better, but it didn’t.

Their fur started falling out. Their noses ran, and their paws bled. Poor dogs. Alex wiped away a tear before it could dry on his face, resisting the urge to whimper. His throat tightened at the thought of their poor dogs, cold and alone.

Mom and Dad had decided it would be best to leave their home--and the sick dogs--to go to the Boreas Sanctuary. It had opened when it got cold, and it became evident that summer wasn’t going to return.

“It’s going to be okay, Alex.” Alex’s father murmured into his ear, pulling him into a side-hug. “The dogs will be fine.” They all knew that wasn’t true.

Alex sneezed, quickly wiping his nose. He pulled his gloved hand away, gasping as he watched ruby red blood sink into the fabric. “D-dad.” He whispered, “my nose is bleeding.”

“It’s from the cold. It’s too dry.” His dad told him easily, letting him go. “It’ll stop bleeding soon, and then I can give you some cloth to plug your nose with.”

“O-Okay. Thanks.” Alexander murmured, but he wasn’t so sure. His cheeks were flushed with heat, and he was beginning to have a headache. But he didn’t want to worry his parents… It was probably nothing.

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“Hello!” Alex’s mother called at the gates, eyes wide with excitement. His father stood back a bit further, watching her with a child-like curiosity that Alex wished he still had. Would he be like that, too?

He sat down in the snow, rubbing his cheeks with it to try and get rid of his feverishly red cheeks. He wheezed, feeling his nose start to drip again. “Shit, dogs.” He whispered, “W-what if I’m--”

“Hello,” a kindly, plump man walked up to the gates, a grin plastered on his face. “I’m Pastor Matri. Nice to meet you--there are… just you two? Either of you sick?”

“Us and our son--he’s over there, with our dogs.” Mother pointed him out and he quickly turned away, burying his face into Blitzen’s fur.

“We don’t allow dogs here,” Pastor Matri told them apologetically, “the chance of getting sick is too high. Communication has been cut off, but the sickness is getting worse.” he offered them a small smile, “I’m sorry.”

“T-there’s nothing you can do? Our son won’t leave the dogs. We’ve already lost five.” Mother gasped, eyes filling with unshed tears.

“No, there isn’t. We don’t accept the sick, either.” Pastor Matri narrowed his eyes at Alex, examining him closely. “Your son is very obviously sick.”

“It’s snow sickness.” Mother said quickly, “we’ve been traveling for weeks.”

“Nonetheless.” Pastor Matri shook his head. “You two can come in, but he cannot. Not until he stops being sick. We can give him supplies but then he must leave and not come back.”

Alex pushed himself to his feet, eyes shiny with tears that froze before they made it halfway down his face. He stepped within a few feet of his parents, but didn’t get any closer. Blood dripped down his nose.

“Go.” He murmured, forcing away a sob. “I’ll be fine, yeah?” He gave them a hard smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Y-You’ll have the dogs.” his mother took a step closer, before thinking better of it. “We’ll give you our supplies. Be safe, my polar bear.” She tossed him her bag, tears streaming down her face. He grabbed it before it hit the ground, glancing back at the dogs.

Donnor. Blitzen. Dasher.

“Yeah.” He whispered. “Goodbye, Dad. Mom. Be safe, okay?” He whimpered, wiping away his tears. “If I do survive my sickness, I’ll see you again someday.” His father swallowed hard, before throwing his pack to Alex, too.

“Yes. Be safe. Don’t--don’t talk to strangers. There are seeds in the bag. Use them wisely.” His father told him, “they’re valuable these days.”

Pastor Matri opened up the gate just a smidge, allowing Alex’s Mother and Father to squeeze through. Then it shut with a CLANG. Alex shuddered, wiping the blood from his nose once more before turning away, only sobbing once his face was out of view of his parents.

“I’m sorry about your son, Miss, sir…” He heard Pastor Matri’s voice quietly murmur behind him, and then the stomping of boots through the snow.

I don’t need them. He snapped in his head, before setting his brown eyes onto his future. My dogs. He smiled as he watched them mill about the dead tree, and he sighed. “It’ll be okay, pups.” He walked back over to them slowly, the painful tugging at his heart growing with every step.

His head pounded as he whistled for them to follow. He pressed his fingers to his temples, hoping to relieve some of the pressure. It didn’t work, however hard he tried.

Sighing, Alex looked down at his dogs, his only companions. It’s going to be okay, especially for you, Blitz. He looked at her swollen belly, knowing they had to find some place warm for her to have her pups.

Wrapping himself up tighter in his parka, Alex shivered from the cold. But at the same time, his body was so hot it was almost suffocating. The Canine Flu. was his only thought. He took deep breaths, trying to calm down as he walked away from the only two people he’d ever known or loved.

I won’t turn around. I won’t turn around. I won’t--

He turned around. They were gone. The gate was still there, and he let out a quiet wail. He wanted his parents so badly it hurt. Dropping into the cold snow, Alexander whimpered. His chest tightened up and he sobbed.

Donnor whined, pressing himself against Alexander’s side, licking at his cheeks. Blitzen and Dasher began to bark, nipping at his cheeks and legs. Get up! Get up!

“Stop it, dogs.” He snapped, trying to push them away, but they crushed him under their weight and heat. Up, up! Their barks were clear, but he didn’t want to move. His whole body was beginning to hurt, from their claws and weight combined with the aching of his muscles.

How long had the Canine flu lasted in Vixen before she’d gone to Great Ursa? He thought, swallowing hard. A week before she started showing symptoms. A week before she began to cry out. Two before she seemingly got better. A day before she collapsed. He wrapped his arms around Donnor’s neck, his tears running into the gray dog’s coat.

He’d started keeping track of the dog’s sickness in a little journal. It would probably help to look at it. But he also didn’t want to be reminded that there was little to nothing he could do to make his odds of living higher.

Alexander tried to stay awake, but his body was shutting down. He could feel it in his bones. He whimpered, his fingers slipping loose of Donnor’s fur, and he slipped into darkness.

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Alexander’s eyes cracked open, shivering from the cold that seeped into his bones. Warm fur surrounded him on all sides, and he realized he was in a huddle.

“Hi, guys.” his voice cracked as he tried to speak. His throat was as dry as the Sahara, and he felt a warm tongue rasp over his cheek. His body ached, but he felt considerably better.

“Where’s… where’s mom? Dad?” He whispered, before realizing. He was alone. He laid his head on Blitzen’s swollen stomach, shutting his eyes. He could feel the pups’ kicking at his head; how many were there? Would they be born by the time he was gone?

“I’m sorry, Blitz. Donny. Dash…” He wheezed, “I don’t think I’m strong enough.” A low growl rumbled in Donnor’s chest, as if criticizing him for saying such a thing. Dasher pressed his fluffy head down on Alex’s, heating his body up further against the chill.

“You’re right, of course.” he muttered, “the dogs are always right. ‘Trust the dogs, they’ll lead you…’” Lead him… Lead him to what? Mom had never finished telling him, even when he asked.

Alex barely felt anything as he slipped back into a feverful sleep.

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Alex opened his eyes again, and he was now just wrapped up in one dog. Dasher. “Dashy-boy. Where’d the others go?” He asked quietly, blinking cautiously as he stretched out his arm in the snow. It was fresh--it had snowed while he was asleep.

Dasher woofed, and Alex heard his tail thumping on the ground wildly. Alexander raised his head, a small smile on his face. He couldn’t tell how long it’d been since Mom and Dad left, but he felt… better.

He knew that was a symptom. Seemingly getting better, then dying quick. But he wasn’t going to focus on that right then--he needed to focus on something else. Sitting up in the snow, he patted Dasher on his fuzzy brown head, breathing in the crisp air.

“We’re lucky no moose came by, huh?” He murmured, grabbing out for his bags in the snow. That’s when he realized that he wasn’t near the sanctuary anymore.

“Did you guys drag me off?” Alex pulled Dasher’s face to his, and Dasher whined in response. “‘Course you did. I appreciate it but we need the supplies. It’s got all the food for you in it!”

Snow crunched in the distance and he heard loud barking. Snarls. Alex got up faster than he thought possible, head spinning as he did. “Blitzen! Donnor!” I can’t lose them, too!

He grabbed a stick half hidden by snow, panic setting in as he lunged forward, toward the sound. Dasher followed close behind, barking and howling as if it was him in the middle of a huge fight.

Waving his stick wildly, Alex snarled as he stumbled through the snow. “Stupid dogs! Get off!” A feminine voice shrieked, “Dad help me!”

He heard the sound of a gun being cocked and--”STOP!” He screeched, as loud as he could with raspy lungs. Everything went quiet. “Blitzen! Donnor! HERE.” He ordered, and he heard a low whine before the dogs bailed.

Alexander crawled over a snowdune, brown eyes narrowed. His cheeks were still flushed with fever, but his adrenaline was pumping and he was ready to fight them if they dared shoot his dogs.

“Put the gun down.” He snarled, “let my dogs alone.”

“Your dogs? Do you know how dangerous it is to have dogs around here?” The man, maybe in his late forties, retorted.

“‘Course I do. I’ve lost five already. But I’ll be damned if I lose any more,” Alex hissed, “Blitzen’s expecting pups. I’m not letting you touch a hair on her head.” He snapped his fingers and Dasher crouched down by him, looking up expectantly.

“You don’t look so good.” The girl looked to be about his age. She spoke softly, eyes wide. “Did you get the flu from… your dogs?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter.” Alex snorted in reply, “Look--Is that my stuff?” His eyes went wide as he spotted his mother’s bag in her hands.

“Yours? We found this about two miles away submerged in a snowdrift.” the man accused, “why would you leave your stuff out?”

“I’ve been knocked out by the fever for who knows how long.” Alex sniffed, “the dogs dragged me off. I was by the sanctuary at first. Wouldn’t let me in with my family ‘cause I was sick.”

“They just… left you?” The girl gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth. “That’s terrible!”

Alexander winced, looking down. Yeah. I know. He thought, before taking a deep breath. “Look. All I want is my stuff back.”

“You’re going to die anyway.” The man grumbled, “You don’t need it. We do.”

“Dad! Give him his things back.” The girl snapped, “he’s not dead yet, is he?”

“Not yet.” Alexander rolled his eyes, “C’mon. Just toss them over here and I’ll be on my way.”

“Or what? You’ll sick your mutts on us?” the Man hissed, “I’m not scared of them. I’ll shoot ‘em all dead--” he didn’t get to finish his sentence before his daughter grabbed the bags that were bundled, throwing them to Alex’s feet.

“Go!” She said, blue eyes wide. Alex froze for a moment before nodding, picking them up. Her dad didn’t have a chance to react before Alex whistled and took off, the dogs taking off with him.

“Good pups,” he whispered, “good dogs. Food for you dogs.” What had they eaten for the…? Blitzen’s mouth was stained with red, as if they’d found something to eat.

Small creatures were hard to find because they hibernated all the time. Squirrels have adapted to be more resilient to the cold, but most of the other animals that weren’t so suited went extinct. “I appreciate what you pups did, but that was dangerous.” He murmured, deciding they were far enough away from the angry man and his snippy daughter.

He sat down in the snow, dusting the snow off of himself. His hair was a mess, and he definitely looked like shit, but Alex was ready to take on this illness.

“Okay, pups. Time for food.” He pulled cans of frozen dog food out of his own bag, popping them open with a little difficulty. “Sorry it’s all frozen. I don’t have anything to make a fire.” He told them apologetically, dumping the food into foldable bowls.

The dogs didn’t complain, and neither did he. Eating dog food wasn’t the most ideal thing in the world, but it was basically just vegetables, right?

He scarfed down the dog food like he hadn’t eaten in months. Deciding not to waste the real food he had, Alexander was going to eat the dog food until he had to start rationing it.

After a desperate search for his journal, Alex sighed in relief as he pulled it out of a pocket in the bag. He grabbed the pen that was magnetically connected to it, and… the last date he’d made in it was on November 15th, 2306. What day was it now?

Alex glanced up at the sky, wishing it held his answers. Turning to the next blank page, he wrote “unknown time, 2306.” With an apology next to it--for the lack of knowledge of the date.

I’ve caught the Canine Flu. I have had all the symptoms that I have outlined in previous entries. I am currently in the stage where it seems like everything is getting better. I do not know if I will survive.

My parents are gone. I only have the dogs left. If I survive while others have not, I will contribute it to the dogs. They’re the only ones left that I can trust.

Alex thought for a moment before sighing. He wanted to leave all he could of his old life in the past. Alexander didn’t fit him so well anymore. What would? “Pups, what should my new name be?” He asked, looking over at them. Donnor barked, tail wagging.

Maybe the dogs didn’t understand. You don’t just change names, Donnor seemed to say. That’s silly. Of course it was. But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted to.

“Boreas. After the God of Winter.” He murmured, “Or Anubis. The god of dogs.”

“Why not both, stranger?” A familiar, feminine voice broke through his thoughts. “What’re you writing?” Blitzen’s head shot up at the sound, her terrifying growl sending shivers down Alex’s spine.

“What are you doing here? Go away!” Alex snapped, “I don’t need you to be here--you--why did you follow me?” he snapped his journal shut, eyes wide.

“You and your dogs take up a lot of space.” the girl shrugged, “I snuck out of camp. Anyway, did you eat dog food? Gross.”

“I don’t have much else.” Alex snorted, “I don’t know why I’m entertaining you. Go off. I’ve got things to do.”

“Like what? Freeze to death?” She leaned against a dead tree, smirking at him. “If you want name suggestions, for whatever reason, I can give them.”

“I want nothing from you. You’re insufferable.” Alexander muttered, “Blitzen, Dasher, Donnor.” He started, but before he could finish the command, the girl quickly cut him off.

“I’m Lumi. Nice to meet you, Nameless.” She smiled at him, “my Dad’s name is Christopher. Sorry he was rude to you earlier. We’re on edge.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too… I guess.” Alex shrugged, “anyway. I don’t need help. Unless you’ve got the date.”

“It’s the 17th.” Two days? Two DAYS? He shuddered. He was out of it for two days, and the dogs had to live on limited food and water until then.

“Poor pups.” He muttered, “I’m sorry, dogs.”

“What are you apologizing to them for?” Lumi tilted her head curiously, brown hair falling over her face. She quickly pushed it out of her vision, a confused frown on her lips.

“I was out for two days. They didn’t have anything to eat. But they stayed with me anyway.” He leaned over, patting each one in turn.

“Anubis.” She said quietly. “Anubis would fit you just fine. Or Aboreas. You seemed obsessed enough to be a dog yourself.”

“I’ve lived with the dogs my whole life. Blitzen came around when I was five. She’s been with me the whole time. Her getting pregnant this time around was a mistake that I didn’t know would happen.” Alex sighed.

“She’s real old then, ain’t she? Should she be out here?”

“It’s better than home, with the corpses of her dead packmates. Lost five of them to the canine flu.” Alexander played with his fingers nervously, looking down. “I spent the most time with the dogs while they were sick. Probably why I’m sick now.”

“I heard that those who survive the canine flu become immune to it. So it’s not really a flu at all. It’s more like Yellow Fever.”

“I haven’t seen any mentions of Yellow Fever in forever.” Alexander responded, raising an eyebrow. He opened up his notebook, scribbling out ‘unknown’, and putting ‘november 17th’ instead. He added ‘possibly linked to Yellow Fever, immune if survived.’ at the bottom, before putting it back into his bag.

“That a journal you keeping?”

“Started when the dogs got sick.” Alexander pushed himself to his feet, picking up the foldable bowls and washing them out with snow. “Got every symptom I seen in the sickness down. Saw lots of ‘em, ‘cause the dogs all got sick close together.”

“Sounds disturbing. I gotta get back to my dad before he notices I’ve been gone for too long, but… See you round, I suppose, Anubis.” Lumi dipped her head, smiling at him with those big blue eyes of hers.

“Yeah. See you, Lumi.” Alexander shook his head, looking down at the dogs as she tramped away, boots digging deep grooves into the snow. “Anubis it is, pups.”

Anubis. God of the Dogs. Guardian of Death. Had he beat death? Only time would tell. The dogs began to bark, raising their voices in a loud howl.

Anubis didn’t hesitate. He raised his head in a howl, joining them in their doggy ways. We’re a pack, he thought, and we always will be a pack.

#writing #my writing #oc #fantasy #post-apocalyptic

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randomguywithwords · 5 years

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Secret Santa (Yui Kodai X Yaoyorozu Short Story)

Tracing Secret Santa recipients was a hard job. But not impossible, with some luck. In Momo’s case, it was Jiro’s brilliant idea to get everyone talking about the program in the first place.

The earphone jack hero meant it as a teasing gesture at 1-B by asking everyone in 1-A if they got anyone in 1-B and who. Since the latter’s students weren’t present in the common room, people were quite nonchalant about revealing who their giftees were. On other days, Momo would be horrified that people were ruining the whole point of the exchange, but on this day, she was tempted to produce a brand new grand piano to thank Jiro for her help.

“Yanagi,” Shoto sighed.

“Awase. Maybe...legos?” Kirishima suggested, earning some snickers.

“I got Monoma. God dammit,” Ashido groaned.

“Get him some duct tape for his mouth!” Sero joked.

“I got Yui Kodai,” Shoji said, immediately causing Momo’s neck to snap towards him. No one really noticed that, and frankly she felt a lot of them forgot who Kodai was. Momo didn’t blame them. She had pretty much never spoken a word in public. She was sure she was one of the few that had actually heard her voice before.

But the first part of her job was done. That was easy.

Momo didn’t notice the girl staring at first. She was too engrossed in stuffing her mouth with cake whilst producing more dolls simultaneously, but when she noticed her shadow, she turned around in curiosity.

“Can I help you?” She asked the girl, whom she recognised as a 1-B student.

The girl looked flustered for a short moment. She opened her mouth as if wanting to say something, then closed it and walked away briskly, leaving a very confused Momo who shrugged and turned back to the task at hand, not wanting to have Mandalay scream in her mind.

Still, that embarrassed expression of that girl was still etched in her mind. Momo found it rather endearing. Although, she didn’t even know who she was.

The second part was just as easy. Momo couldn’t tell, given that Shoji rarely showed emotion, but he didn’t seem to mind trading Secret Santa recipients nor care about her rationale.

Then came the hard part.

As it turned out, even though Momo had mastered creating matryoshka dolls from a young age and could now do so without much effort, the lack of thought given into producing them has led to...unsatisfactory aesthetics.

There would always be one, stupid, flaw. A smear of paint. A scratch of wood. A roughness of an edge. So now she actually had to focus on making something she could normally do without a hitch.

Needless to say, the next day, her garbage bag was unusually stuffed with unused matryoshka dolls. But she had obtained the one specimen that she deemed perfect.

Now all she had to do was wrap it up and tag Yui’s name on it. Simple.

“Oh, her? That’s Yui Kodai.” Itsuka looked to where Momo was gesturing. “She likes those dolls you were making, Matri – matriyoka – whatever dolls.”

“That explains it. Is she...um, mute or something?”

“Nah, she’s just very quiet. But she’s a nice person. I’ve chatted with her a bit. She’ll talk when she wants to, that’s all.”

“Hmm...” Momo glanced again at Yui, only to find the girl staring right back at her, causing Momo to look away quickly, face reddening.

Momo gingerly set her gift on the floor among the pile under the large Christmas tree, then stepping back for others to put theirs. She prayed none of the gifts would end up breaking the doll as she watched some others like Bakugo practically shot put their gift into the sea of presents.

She scanned the room and didn’t see Yui, to her disappointment. She has better things to do, she chided herself.

She stared at her present, which was flawlessly wrapped up in elegant golden wrapping paper. The latter enveloped a box containing a styrofoam mould housing the doll, which was further covered in a layer of silk cloth to prevent scratching.

Something that surprised her was her confidence that she did all she could. She didn’t think to triple-check that her wrapping was done properly. She remembered precisely that she completed all the steps to wrapping the doll, and she didn’t forget anything.

Still, she felt tentative as to how the gift would be received. Imagining Yui’s reaction both gave her shivers and a smile, especially if she could see her smile. A real smile.

“Hi.” Yaoyorozu gave a small wave to Kodai, who turned to face her with her usual blank expression.

“Mhm.” Was all she said in reply, alongside a nod of acknowledgement.

“You’re Kodai, right? Itsuka told me about you.”

“Mhm.” Another nod of affirmation. Was that all she did? Momo found that strangely cute too.

“Um...I’m Momo Yaoyorozu. Anyway, Itsuka said you liked matryoshka dolls. So about earlier, if you wanted one...here.” She brought out one of the dolls and passed it to Kodai.

The girl took it with a bashfulness that made Momo want to pass her another.

“Thank you,” She said, her lip curling into the tiniest of smiles.

Maybe they could have talked more, but at that moment, Mandalay called everyone to gather, and Kodai abruptly left without another word, leaving Momo feeling a bit angry at the interruption, as well as disappointment.

There was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Ashido hollered. Momo heard the pounding of footsteps, but paid no further attention and concentrated on the book she was reading.

Moments later, she heard Ashido call out her name, pulling her from her reverie. “That 1-B girl’s asking for you.” Mina shrugged, walking back to the kitchen.

Her heart started racing at her words. It can’t be her...

But it was. Yui Kodai was standing at the door, still dressed in her uniform.

“Hi, Kodai-san.” Momo greeted.

Kodai returned the greeting with a warmth in her voice that Momo did not expect.

“I just came to say thank you for the gift. It’s beautiful,” She spoke, soft enough that only the two of them could hear it. Her eyes flickered between her and the floor.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“I only told Kendo about my interest in matryoshka dolls, and she told you.” She shrugged. “Either that, or it was a very good coincidence, but you just confirmed it, so...”

Momo smiled, making Kodai frown. “What?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just – I’ve never heard you say a complete sentence, much less two.”

Kodai giggled softly, putting her fist to cover her mouth. “Yeah, I don’t do...talking.”

“It was nice talking to you, though.”

“And you. Have a good night, Yaoyorozu-san.”

“You too, Kodai-san.”

And Yui left. Momo closed the door behind her and tried to conceal her smile from her classmates as she walked back to pick up her book.

Maybe cheating during Secret Santa isn’t that bad of a thing.

–

This is basically me shipping 2 people just because they both like the same freaking dolls, but whatever. What was originally supposed to be a 5 line low-quality conversation of Momo just giving the damn doll turned into something I’m somewhat proud of. Also I hope I’m using the -san suffix correctly. First time using it in a piece.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #momo yaoyorozu #yaomomo #bnha yaoyorozu #yui kodai #kodai #bnha kodai #bnha yui #kodai x yaoyorozu #yui x momo #short story #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha oneshot #bnha shipfic

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shamelesssoulkidvoid-blog · 5 years

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LESSON #22 THINGS THAT HAPPEN WHEN YOU END A LONG RELATIONSHIP

PEOPLE WHO STILL DO NOT KNOW IT AND ASK FOR HIM

- And, how is Perencejo?

- Well, you're going to have to ask yourself, because we're done.

Uncomfortable silence followed by the inevitable. What happened? with the same degree of concern as if you had announced that your leg was amputated.

"Do you want to know what happened? Well, it was years of trying to get ahead something that clearly was not going anywhere, framed by a series of passive aggressive discussions mixed with that panic that you get to finish with someone with whom you have so much history and at the same time laziness that gives you the need to de-label 231343 photos and find a decent profile that does not include it. "

That would be a good answer, but you already know that the correct thing to say is that a politician "just did not work" and / or "is for the better" that makes the front person can continue with his life without becoming your impromptu therapist.

ACOSTUMBRARTE TO BE ONE SINGLE

There are those who do not know and ask you about it, and those who do know but have beginnings of Alzheimer's and want to see you cry in public are forgotten.

- Hey, are you going to come with Perencejo to the party? ... oh my ... I forgot my friend, sorry, how silly.

And you smile and you understand, because everyone is used to you being an item, a single barcode, an "invite to one because I already know that both will come". You understand it because you are also used to it, at times it seems strange to you that there is nobody in the seat next to you, there are not at least 3 calls of "my love" in your cell phone list, nor who picks you up from work to give a turn or snore on the side at night. It is strange how after all that time you invested in trying to make it part of your world, now you must be unaccustomed to the idea of it.

MEETINGS WITH MATCHED FRIENDS

You have friends, bacanes friends, cheeeveeeres friends, the only thing you have not noticed in all this time is that all of them are paired. Your social circle, for the most part, looks like a cursed ark of Noah. So when it comes time to make plans with them, you give Natalia Málaga the breath and go to the reu that invited you, repeating to yourself that it can not be that bad either, at the end of the day, the important thing is that you have a nice time with them.

That lasts about half an hour.

From minute 31, you are aware that the conversation will revolve around those who talk about the matri, those who talk about babies, those who talk about what they said about the other day you will not believe me, travel together and you start a passionate romance with alcohol. The tenderness, the adorable pseudonyms, the embraces to give warmth, the drinks for one another ... you had not noticed how irritating they were until today, because you used to be one of them.

HAVING FORGOTTEN AS "SOLTEREAR"

Bachelorhood is not like riding a bicycle, since you forget completely what it is like if you spend a lot of time without doing it. What it looks like, is to LEARN to ride a bike: one fall after another, it hurts like the devil and you feel that you will never be able to stabilize yourself.

In short, having been off the field clearly has harmed your ability to exercise singleness. You find yourself looking in the mirror, that's what you're wearing, it's still considered attractive to go dancing, and if you're not a 19-year-old chibola, then probably the answer is no.

You arrive at the disco, you ask for something to drink, you realize that you are going to have to go with alcohol because with two more you will not be able to pay the bill of light. You dance with your friends, you see a leg that seems nice to you and that is getting closer ... Suddenly, you enter in absolute panic.

What are you supposed to do now? You try a flirtatious smile ...

Good one

Why is so difficult? While you see him approach you think about what he will do, if he will have a good job or he will be another one of those man-projects that you have to tell them what to do in life. You realize that you are going to have to go through that stage in which the two pretend they are perfect, in which you sleep in a nightgown and wake up smelling of mint, how long will it take that moment when you are already They feel comfortable with each other, in that they are finally sincere and you can say that the missionary bores you fatally, you have not seen any of the Lord of the Rings and you love Mocedades?

When you realize, you are already dancing with one of your friends. And you have the syndrome of the recent maiden, in which all the candidates are measured with the rod of what was your past relationship, with the good and the bad.

In the end the complicated thing is that you have to reconnect with you, with that you without him. It is not easy to take care of everything that one is comfortably put in someone else's hands for a while and learn to be enough for you. The good news? Now you know more of what you want and what you want and you understand better what makes you happy. Health for that coveted bachelor!

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luxettenebra · 7 years

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...why do I have a whole list of Latin swearing. Got no idea where it all come from, but oh well, here’s the entire list I have if you’re curious:

“faex” - shit “cane” - bitch (this is actually referring to a dog, however, and not the female derogatory) “deodamnatus” - dammit “cunne” - cunt “filius canis” - son of a bitch (literally ‘son of a dog’) “fututus et mori in igni” - fuck off and die in a fire “futuere” - get fucked “futue te ipsi” - fuck you “irrumabo” - dick “trude id sursum tui cunni, faexcaput” - shove it up your cunt, shithead. “ede faecam” - eat shit “suge meum penem, cunne” - suck my dick, cunt “morde meum globes” - bite my balls “Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo” - i’ll fuck you up the ass and make you blow me (OR ’ I will sodomize you and face-fuck you’. this is from a poem called Catullus 16, the filthiest latin poems you can find) “Te futueo et caballum tuum” - Screw you and the horse you rode in on “Irrumator” - Bastard “Leno” - Pimp “Flocci non faccio” - I don’t give a damn “Mihi irruma et te pedicabo” - Give me head and I’ll ass fuck you “Mentula” - Penis “Meretrix” - Prostitute “Bovis stercus” - Bull shit “Es stultior asino” - You are dumber than an ass “Es scortum obscenus vilis” - You are a vile, perverted whore “Es mundus excrementi” - You are a pile of shit “Bibe semen meum” - Swallow my cum “Bibe semen meum e baculo” - Swallow my cum from a cup “Globos meos lambe!” - Lick my balls “Es stercus!” You shit! “Moecha Putida” - Dirty slut “Podex perfectus es” - You’re a complete asshole “Futue te ipsum!” - Go fuck yourself! “Stercorem pro cerebro habes” - You have shit for brains “Caput tuum in ano est” - You have your head up your ass “Perite” - Fuck off! “Impudens es leno” - You shameless pimp “Vacca stulta” - You stupid cow “Vescere bracis meis” - Eat my shorts “Tu scronium es” - You are a whore “Caput stercoris” - shithead (lit. head of shit) “Mentulam Caco” - I shit on your prick “Obesus porcus” - Fat pig “Cupio te meam mentulam sugare” - I want you to suck my dick “Matris futuor” - Mother fucker “Te odeo, interfice te cochleare” - I hate you. Kill yourself with a spoon. “Matris Prolapsus” - Bitch (??) “Stercus accidit” - Shit happens “Potes meos suaviari clunes” - You can kiss my ass. “Quando podeces te regi eorum fecerunt?” - When did the assholes make you their king? “Lupa” - Slut “Cacator” - Shitter “Plenus stercoris es” You are full of shit “Derideo te!” - I laugh at you! “Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?” - Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you just happy to see me? “Fabriacate diem, punk” - Make my day, punk “Id imperfectum manet dum confectum erit” - It isn’t over until it’s over “Morologus es!” - You’re talking like a moron! “Puto vos esse molestissimos” - I think that you are very annoying “Qualem blennum!” - What a doofus! “Qualem muleirculam!” - What a bimbo! “Quisque comoedus est” - Everybody’s a comedian “Radix lecti” - Couch potato “Raptus regaliter” - Royally screwed “Recedite, plebes! Gero rem imperialem!” - Stand aside plebeians! I am on imperial business “Stultus est sicut stultus facit” - Stupid is as stupid does “Tace atque abi” - Shut up and go away “Utinam barbari spatium proprium tuum invadant “ - May barbarians invade your personal space “Utinam coniurati te in foro interficiant” - May conspirators assassinate you in the mall “Utinam logica falsa tuam philosophiam totam suffodiant” - May faulty logic undermine your entire philosophy “Vacca foeda” - Dirty cow “Vae!” - Damn! “Viri sunt Viri” - Men are slime “Immanissimum ac foedissimum monstrum! ” - Gross and putrid monster! “Faciem durum cacantis habes” - You have the face of a man with severe constipation “Mala pituita nasi” - Nasty nasal drippings! “Si me rogas, potes abire et tu ipse cacare.” - If you ask me, you can go and shit on yourself. “Commodum habitus es” - You have just been owned “Canis matrem tuam subagiget” - Dog has desecrated your mother “Hic erit in lecto fortissimus” - He is Hercules in the sack “Asinus Stultissimus” - Dumbass (lit. “Very stupid donkey”) “Caput tuum in ano est” - Your head is in your ass “Tuam matrem feci” - I did your mother “A tergo” - In the ass “Scio erit in lecto fortissimus” - I am Hercules in the sack. Just bear in mind that the overwhelming majority are NOT ROMAN-ERA PHRASES, but rather the literal translations of distinctly modern phrases by modern Latin students (the obvious exception being the Catullus line, gods but I love Catullus) and some of the actual Roman-era words/phrases are given somewhat inaccurate translations (eg, lupa literally means “she-wolf” but in slang it meant “female prostitute” — which it does in modern Italian, I’ve learned the hard way; perite means “go to Hell” which is a bit tonally different from “fuck off”; and irrumabo is a future-tense VERB, not a noun!!!). The grammar is a little stiff in places too, but hey. The Romans had some really damned dirty turns of phrase all their own. IMO theirs are often a lot more interesting. If you’re writing snappy comebacks from nerdy students (*cough*) these’ll do great. If you’re writing invectives that’re supposed to be ancient…go find the actual ancient invectives. ;) From Catullus: Line Latin text English translation[14][15][16][17] 1 Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo, I will sodomize you and face-fuck you, 2 Aureli pathice et cinaede Furi, Cock-sucker Aurelius and catamite Furius, 3 qui me ex versiculis meis putastis, You who think, because my verses 4 quod sunt molliculi, parum pudicum. Are delicate, that I am a sissy. 5 Nam castum esse decet pium poetam For it's right for the devoted poet to be chaste 6 ipsum, versiculos nihil necessest(necesse est); Himself, but it's not necessary for his verses to be so. 7 qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem, Verses which then have taste and charm, 8 si sunt molliculi ac parum pudici If they are delicate and sexy, 9 et quod pruriat incitare possunt, And can incite an itch, 10 non dico pueris, sed his pilosis And I don't mean in boys, but in those hairy old men 11 qui duros nequeunt movere lumbos. Who can't get their flaccid dicks up. 12 Vos, quod milia multa basiorum You, because you have read of my thousand kisses, 13 legistis, male me marem putatis? You think I'm a sissy? 14 Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo. I will sodomize you and face-fuck you. Sexual terminology Latin is an exact language for obscene acts, such as pedicabo and irrumabo, which appear in the first and last lines of the poem. The term pedicare is a transitive verb, meaning to "insert one's penis into another person's anus",[18] and derives from an analogous Greek word, ???????, itself derived ultimately from the Greek word ????, ?????? (child). The term cinaede in line 2 refers to the "bottom" person in that act, i.e., the one being penetrated.[19] The term irrumare is likewise a transitive verb, meaning to "insert one's penis into another person's mouth for suckling",[20] and derives from the Latin word, ruma meaning "teat". A male who suckles a penis is denoted as a fellator or, equivalently, a pathicus (line 2).[21] Thus, there is an elegant poetic chiasm (a "criss-cross" rhetorical structure) in the first two lines. Each line has two obscenities; the first of the first line, pedicabo, matches the second of the second line, cinaede, whereas the second of the first line, irrumabo, matches the first of the second line, pathice. The central pun of the poem occurs in line 4 with quod sunt molliculi, parum pudicum. The word molliculi refers to Catullus' verses and means "soft and tender little verses", as in love poetry. However, mollis can also mean "effeminate fellator", as well as "soft" in the sense of "flaccid penis". Likewise, parum pudicum refers to Catullus, and can mean "wanton" or "fellator". Thus, in explicit modern English, the pun suggests that "just because my verses are little and soft, doesn't mean that I'm the same, that I'm some hussy cock-sucker who can't get it up". This may be translated more delicately with the analogous English pun, "that I've gone all soft". The rest of the poem plays upon that pun. On the contrary, says Catullus, although my verses are soft (molliculi ac parum pudici in line 8, reversing the play on words), they can arouse even limp old men. Should Furius and Aurelius have any remaining doubts about Catullus' virility, he offers to fuck them anally and orally to prove otherwise. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Latin_profanity http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Curse_tablet Mater tua tam obesa est ut cum Romae est urbs habet octo colles Your mama is so fat when she goes to Rome it has 8 hills! Futue te ipsum. Go F--- yourself Mande merdam et morere. Eat sh-- and die Velim caput tuum devellere deinde in confinium gulae cacare I'm gonna rip off you head and crap down your neck. Te fututo, gaudeo You having been f---d, I rejoice. (ablative absolute! Amaze your Latin teacher!) Sentite aciem acrem ensis mortiferi, o larvae putidae, o bustirapi nefandi! Feel the keen edge if the sword of doom, no-good stinking corpse-eating tomb-ghouls! Caput capitis = dick head. Cacator = shitter Hope that helps !! M.VIB.M. Usefull if you have a friend that knows latin and thinks he is a super cool because of it. Latin Swearing Futue te ipsum et caballum tuum screw you and the horse you rode in on Tu plenus sterco es You are full of shit (lit. you are packed with shit) Antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem In the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags. Apudne te vel me? Your place or mine? Caesar si viveret, ad remum dareris If Caesar were alive, you'd be chained to an oar. Cepe indicum Take a hint Derideo te! I laugh at you! Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre? Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you just happy to see me? Fabriacate diem, punk Make (my) day, punk Fac ut vivas Get a life Apudne te vel me? Your place or mine? Hocine bibo aut in eum digitos insero? Do I drink this or stick my fingers in it? Obesa cantavit The fat lady has sung Id imperfectum manet dum confectum erit It isn't over until it's over Illegitimi non carborundum Don't let the bastards burn you Labra lege Read my lips Lege atque lacrima Read 'em and weep Morologus es! You're talking like a moron! Noli me vocare, ego te vocabo Don't call me, I'll call you. Noli nothis permittere te terere Don’t let the bastards get you down. Nullo modo No way Puto vos esse molestissimos I think that you are very annoying Qualem blennum! What a doofus! Qualem muleirculam! What a bimbo! Quisque comoedus est Everybody's a comedian Quo usque tandem abutere patentia nostra? How long are you going to abuse our patience? Quomodo cogis comas tuas sic videri? How do you get your hair to do that? Radix lecti Couch potato Raptus regaliter Royally screwed Recedite, plebes! Gero rem imperialem! Stand aside plebeians! I am on imperial business Scio vos esse molestissimos I know that you are very troublesome Stultus est sicut stultus facit Stupid is as stupid does Tace atque abi Shut up and go away Ut si! As if! Utinam barbari spatium proprium tuum invadant May barbarians invade your personal space Utinam coniurati te in foro interficiant May conspirators assassinate you in the mall Utinam logica falsa tuam philosophiam totam suffodiant May faulty logic undermine your entire philosophy Vacca foeda Stupid cow Vae! Damn! Viri sunt Viri Men are slime Immanissimum ac foedissimum monstrum! Gross and putrid monster! Faciem durum cacantis habes You have the face of a man with severe constipation Mala pituita nasi Nasty nasal drippings! Recedite, plebes! Gero rem imperialem. Stand aside plebeians! I am on imperial business. Si me rogas, potes abire et tu ipse cacare. If you ask me, you can go and shit on yourself. Semper in excrementum, sole profundum qui variat. Always in the shit, just the depth that varies.

#probably not gonna tag this

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pamphletstoinspire · 5 years

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Book Of Genesis - From The Latin Vulgate (1859 - Haydock Translation of The Roman Catholic Bible) - Chapter 20

INTRODUCTION.

The Hebrews now entitle all the Five Books of Moses, from the initial words, which originally were written like one continued word or verse; but the Sept. have preferred to give the titles the most memorable occurrences of each work. On this occasion, the Creation of all things out of nothing, strikes us with peculiar force. We find a refutation of all the heathenish mythology, and of the world’s eternity, which Aristotle endeavoured to establish. We behold the short reign of innocence, and the origin of sin and misery, the dispersion of nations, and the providence of God watching over his chosen people, till the death of Joseph, about the year 2369 (Usher) 2399 (Sal. and Tirin) B.C. 1631. We shall witness the same care in the other Books of Scripture, and adore his wisdom and goodness in preserving to himself faithful witnesses, and a true Holy Catholic Church, in all ages, even when the greatest corruption seemed to overspread the land. H.

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This Book is so called from its treating of the Generation, that is, of the Creation and the beginning of the world. The Hebrews call it Bereshith, from the word with which it begins. It contains not only the History of the Creation of the World, but also an account of its progress during the space of 2369 years, that is, until the death of Joseph.

The additional Notes in this Edition of the New Testament will be marked with the letter A. Such as are taken from various Interpreters and Commentators, will be marked as in the Old Testament. B. Bristow, C. Calmet, Ch. Challoner, D. Du Hamel, E. Estius, J. Jansenius, M. Menochius, Po. Polus, P. Pastorini, T. Tirinus, V. Bible de Vence, W. Worthington, Wi. Witham. — The names of other authors, who may be occasionally consulted, will be given at full length.

Verses are in English and Latin. HAYDOCK CATHOLIC BIBLE COMMENTARY

This Catholic commentary on the Old Testament, following the Douay-Rheims Bible text, was originally compiled by Catholic priest and biblical scholar Rev. George Leo Haydock (1774-1849). This transcription is based on Haydock’s notes as they appear in the 1859 edition of Haydock’s Catholic Family Bible and Commentary printed by Edward Dunigan and Brother, New York, New York.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Changes made to the original text for this transcription include the following:

Greek letters. The original text sometimes includes Greek expressions spelled out in Greek letters. In this transcription, those expressions have been transliterated from Greek letters to English letters, put in italics, and underlined. The following substitution scheme has been used: A for Alpha; B for Beta; G for Gamma; D for Delta; E for Epsilon; Z for Zeta; E for Eta; Th for Theta; I for Iota; K for Kappa; L for Lamda; M for Mu; N for Nu; X for Xi; O for Omicron; P for Pi; R for Rho; S for Sigma; T for Tau; U for Upsilon; Ph for Phi; Ch for Chi; Ps for Psi; O for Omega. For example, where the name, Jesus, is spelled out in the original text in Greek letters, Iota-eta-sigma-omicron-upsilon-sigma, it is transliterated in this transcription as, Iesous. Greek diacritical marks have not been represented in this transcription.

Footnotes. The original text indicates footnotes with special characters, including the astrisk (*) and printers’ marks, such as the dagger mark, the double dagger mark, the section mark, the parallels mark, and the paragraph mark. In this transcription all these special characters have been replaced by numbers in square brackets, such as [1], [2], [3], etc.

Accent marks. The original text contains some English letters represented with accent marks. In this transcription, those letters have been rendered in this transcription without their accent marks.

Other special characters.

Solid horizontal lines of various lengths that appear in the original text have been represented as a series of consecutive hyphens of approximately the same length, such as .

Ligatures, single characters containing two letters united, in the original text in some Latin expressions have been represented in this transcription as separate letters. The ligature formed by uniting A and E is represented as Ae, that of a and e as ae, that of O and E as Oe, and that of o and e as oe.

Monetary sums in the original text represented with a preceding British pound sterling symbol (a stylized L, transected by a short horizontal line) are represented in this transcription with a following pound symbol, l.

The half symbol (½) and three-quarters symbol (¾) in the original text have been represented in this transcription with their decimal equivalent, (.5) and (.75) respectively.

Unreadable text. Places where the transcriber’s copy of the original text is unreadable have been indicated in this transcription by an empty set of square brackets, [].

Chapter 20

Abraham sojourned in Gerara: Sara is taken into king Abimelech's house, but by God's commandment is restored untouched.

[1] Abraham removed from thence to the south country, and dwelt between Cades and Sur, and sojourned in Gerara. Profectus inde Abraham in terram australem, habitavit inter Cades et Sur : et peregrinatus est in Geraris.

[2] And he said of Sara his wife: She is my sister. So Abimelech the king of Gerara sent, and took her. Dixitque de Sara uxore suo : Soror mea est. Misit ergo Abimelech rex Gerarae, et tulit eam.

[3] And God came to Abimelech in a dream by night, and he said to him: Lo thou shalt die for the woman thou hast taken: for she hath a husband. Venit autem Deus ad Abimelech per somnium nocte, et ait illi : En morieris propter mulierem quam tulisti : habet enim virum.

[4] Now Abimelech had not touched her, and he said: Lord, wilt thou slay a nation, that is ignorant and just? Abimelech vero non tetigerat eam, et ait : Domine, num gentem ignorantem et justam interficies?

[5] Did not he say to me: She is my sister: and she say, He is my brother? in the simplicity of my heart, and cleanness of my hands have I done this. nonne ipse dixit mihi : Soror mea est : et ipsa ait : Frater meus est? In simplictate cordis mei, et munditia manuum mearum feci hoc.

[6] And God said to him: And I know that thou didst it with a sincere heart: and therefore I withheld thee from sinning against me, and I suffered thee not to touch her. Dixitque ad eum Deus : Et ego scio quod simplici corde feceris : et ideo custodivi te ne peccares in me, et non dimisi ut tangeres eam.

[7] Now therefore restore the man his wife, for he is a prophet: and he shall pray for thee, and thou shalt live: but if thou wilt not restore her, know that thou shalt surely die, thou and all that are thine. Nunc ergo redde viro suo uxorem, quia propheta est : et orabit pro te, et vives : si autem nolueris reddere, scito quod morte morieris tu, et omnia quae tua sunt.

[8] And Abimelech forthwith rising up in the night, called all his servants: and spoke all these words in their hearing, and all the men were exceedingly afraid. Statimque de nocte consurgens Abimelech, vocavit omnes servos suos : et locutus est universa verba haec in auribus eorum, timueruntque omnes viri valde.

[9] And Abimelech called also for Abraham, and said to him: What hast thou done to us? what have we offended thee in, that thou hast brought upon me and upon my kingdom a great sin? thou hast done to us what thou oughtest not to do. Vocavit autem Abimelech etiam Abraham, et dixit ei : Quid fecisti nobis? quid peccavimus in te, quia induxisti super me et super regnum meum peccatum grande? quae non debuisti facere, fecisti nobis.

[10] And again he expostulated with him, and said, What sawest thou, that thou hast done this? Rursumque expostulans, ait : Quid vidisti, ut hoc faceres?

[11] Abraham answered: I thought with myself, saying: Perhaps there is not the fear of God in this place: and they will kill me for the sake of my wife: Respondit Abraham : Cogitavi mecum, dicens : Forsitan non est timor Dei in loco isto : et interficient me propter uxorem meam :

[12] Howbeit, otherwise also she is truly my sister, the daughter of my father, and not the daughter of my mother, and I took her to wife. alias autem et vere soror mea est, filia patris mei, et non filia matris meae, et duxi eam in uxorem.

[13] And after God brought me out of my father's house, I said to her: Thou shalt do me this kindness: In every place, to which we shall come, thou shalt say that I am thy brother. Postquam autem eduxit me Deus de domo patris mei, dixi ad eam : Hanc misericordiam facies mecum : in omni loco, ad quem ingrediemur, dices quod frater tuus sim.

[14] And Abimelech took sheep and oxen, and servants and handmaids, and gave to Abraham: and restored to him Sara, his wife. Tulit igitur Abimelech oves et boves, et servos et ancillas, et dedit Abraham : reddiditque illi Saram uxorem suam,

[15] And said: The land is before you, dwell wheresoever it shall please thee. et ait : Terra coram vobis est, ubicumque tibi placuerit habita.

[16] And to Sara he said: Behold I have given thy brother a thousand pieces of silver: this shall serve thee for a covering of thy eyes to all that are with thee, and whithersoever thou shalt go: and remember thou wast taken. Sarae autem dixit : Ecce mille argenteos dedi fratri tuo, hoc erit tibi in velamen oculorum ad omnes qui tecum sunt, et quocumque perrexeris : mementoque te deprehensam.

[17] And when Abraham prayed, God healed Abimelech and his wife, and his handmaids, and they bore children: Orante autem Abraham, sanavit Deus Abimelech et uxorem, ancillasque ejus, et pepererunt :

[18] For the Lord had closed up every womb of the house of Abimelech on account of Sara, Abraham's wife. concluserat enim Dominus omnem vulvam domus Abimelech propter Saram uxorem Abrahae.

Commentary:

Ver. 1. Gerara; at a greater distance from the devoted country of Sodom. H.

Ver. 2. He said to the king, and to all others who made inquiry, as it was his custom, whenever he came into a strange land, v. 13. He was encouraged to do this, by the protection which God had shewn him in Egypt. --- Took her, against her will, as Pharao had done. H. --- Though she was ninety years old, and with child, her beauty was still extraordinary, the Rabbin think miraculous. At that time people lived above 120 years; so that at the age of ninety, she would only be about as near the end of her life as our women are at forty; and we often see people sufficiently attracting at that age. C.

Ver. 3. Abimelech. This was an usual title of kings in Chanaan, and a very good one, to remind them and their subjects, of their obligations, (H.) as it means "my father the king." The behaviour of the prince shews, that as yet all sense of duty and knowledge of the true God was not banished from the country. C. --- Shalt die, unless thou restore the woman, whom thou hast taken by force; on whose account I have already afflicted thee, (v. 7. 17.) and thus prevented thee from touching her. This testimony was more requisite, that there might be no doubt respecting Isaac's legitimacy. H.

Ver. 5. He say, &c. The pronouns in Heb. are printed very incorrectly. --- He is my sister; and she, even he, said. Ken.

Ver. 6. Sincere heart, abhorring adultery, but not altogether innocent. M.

Ver. 7. A prophet. One under my particular care, to whom I reveal many things. --- He shall pray for thee. Behold, God will sometimes grant, at the request of his saints, what he would deny even such as Abimelech or the friends of Job. Is not this sufficient encouragement for us, to have recourse to the intercession of the saints? And can any one be so foolish as to pretend this is making gods of them, and shewing them an idolatrous worship? H.

Ver. 8. In the night, (de nocte) or "as soon as it began to dawn." Sept.

Ver. 9. Why, &c. He expostulates with him in a friendly but earnest manner. --- A great sin, or punishment, (M.) v. 18, and exposed me to the danger of committing adultery. Abraham might have answered, this would have been his own fault, as he could not have done it without offering violence to Sara, in whose chastity he could confide. Having an opportunity here to vindicate himself, Abraham speaks freely, which he was not allowed to do in Egypt. G. xii. 20.

Ver. 12. My sister, or niece, according to those who say she was daughter of Aran, who thus must have had a different mother from Abraham; (M.) or, as we rather think, Sara was truly his half-sister, born of Thare by another wife. His adding truly, seems to restrain it to this sense; and we know that in those countries, marriages of such near relations were allowed, though not when both had the same parents. Why should we not, therefore, believe Abraham, who certainly knew the real state of the question, and who would not tell a lie, rather than seek for improbable and far-fetched solutions? Said, who lived eight hundred years ago, mentions the name of Jona, Abraham's mother, as well as that of Tehevita, who bore Sara to Thare. The Hebrews, in general, give this explanation. C. --- By calling Sara his sister without any addition, Abraham intended that the people should conclude he was not married; therefore he did not say she was his half-sister, as this would have frustrated his design, if, as Clem. Alex. asserts, such might and did marry under the law of nature. H. --- Philo observes, the Athenian legislator, Solon, sanctioned the same practice, which was followed also by the Phœnicians. C.

Ver. 14. Gave, by way of satisfaction, for having detained his wife; as also to shew his respect for him who was a prophet. 1 Kings ix. 7. H.

Ver. 16. Thy brother, as thou hast agreed to call thy husband. --- Pieces, or sicles of silver, worth a little above 2s. 3d. each; total ￡113 sterling. --- A covering, or veil, to shew thou art married, and prevent thee from being taken by any one hereafter. It was to be so rich, that all might know her quality. S. Paul (1 Cor. xi. 5. 15.) orders women to be covered. C.

Ver. 17. Healed. It is not known how God afflicted Abimelech; but the women could not be delivered during the short time that Sara was detained: on her being set at liberty, they bore children. M.

#book of genesis

0 notes

mramelius · 7 years

Text

The boy attempt A.

The boy sat there as if nothing was wrong. As if he didn't notice the mangled corpse behind him. As if he didn't notice the woman's wails as they pierced through the silence. He sat at the dining room table with his back to the living room. The woman rest on her knees crying in the corner of the kitchen between the cupboards. The boy watched her as he ate his pancakes; unperturbed by the look of fear and horror on her face. He was waiting expectantly for her to do something besides cry. The woman's cries were understandable it was her husband that had been murdered,but eventually one must once more become civilized. The killer sitting and eating in her dining room. The boy finished his pancakes and walked to the sink. The woman terrified became quiet and tried to get even deeper in the corner so as to get out of the way. The boy rinsed off his plate and placed it in the sink. He looked over at the woman annoyed by her indecision. Moving back towards the table pushed in his chair and stepped into the Living room. He grabbed something off the table and tossed it to the woman. It hit the ground with a clatter and landed in front of her. She looked through her tears at the object ,a phone, and back at the boy confused.

"Don't look at me like that mother," the boy snapped "You are the one who needs to call the police. You are in a house with a murderer." The woman frantically grabbed the phone and began dialing. Reason suddenly flowing back into her. She didn't know why her son didn't want her dead ,but wasn't going to question it. The police arrived and were confused by the scene before them. A ten year old boy managed to murder a fully grown man with clock pieces. Then the mother in terror was sitting in the corner awaiting their arrival. The strangest thing was that the boy didn't seem sorry. He didn't seem scared or anxious. He was simply apathetic and comprehended the situation he was in. When the police knocked on the door the boy opened it, greeted them as friends, and turned himself in. They took both the mother and the son to the interrogation room as they were the only suspects. Officer Matri was the one set to interrogate the two suspects. He was an old fashioned officer who followed tradition. A man no more than 5'6 ,but he was able to scare many into speaking the truth after one or two talks. He assumed it would be easy to determine what happened and put the killer away. Imagine the surprise on his face as he heard the mother's tale. A tale describing how a ten year old boy managed to cut open an adult male and carefully placed his insides out to spell "I warned you" on his living room floor. How the man was alive for some of the process and as inhuman screams escaped from his lips. Every detail. From which organs spelled what letter to what was left of the corpse. Needless to say while impressed by the depth of the mother's narrative he doubted that a powerful man could do this to an adult let alone a child. Then, he talked to the boy. The boy was calm and asked if he could have sweet tea. He was brought some and the conversation began. "Hello, my name is Officer Matri. What's your name?" The boy put down his cup and replied. "My name is Marcus. Marcus Aurelius. I assume you are the officer sent to question me? If you are you really shouldn't have wasted your time speaking to my mother. If you want to find the killer he sits before you." then he took a long draft of tea. "What makes you think I talked to your mother?" Officer marti asked intrigued. He had ensured that all suspects he talked to even those he picked up together never knew which order or if anyone had been questioned. " Well besides the faint smell of her perfume there are small tear marks on the table and I noticed the box of Kleenex outside outside is nearly gone. Also there are hairs on your uniform by your shoulder that can't be yours and match my mother's hair color quite well." " Interesting." He said impressed by the young boy's exemplary deduction skills. " Well, if you are the murderer then why'd you do it." He had the odd feeling the boy wasn't going to dodge the question like a common criminal would. "He forced my hand.” he said with an air of finality “Allow me to explain. My father was an abusive man who constantly attacked my mother. My mother loved him and decided to never call the police. I got sick of waiting for her to understand her position and told my father that if he were to hit her again I would be forced to slice him open. He pushed her into the kitchen corner where you found her and I lived up to my promise."

“That seems rather drastic. Why not call the police?”

“And have you do what? Send them to counseling the same as before? No, thank you.”

“You seem to be a bright young man. What do you think will happen to you?”

“Juvenile, I would think. In case you were going to try the ‘scared straight’ idea; I do not fear you, the justice system, or the people in prison. An asylum would be nice ,but rather boring. I trust you to do what you will.”

Officer Matri got up from the table eyeing the young boy. He was right. There was only ,so much you could do to an individual who did not see the error of their ways.

2 notes · View notes

ulyssesredux · 7 years

Text

Nestor

Their eyes knew their zeal was vain. He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his voice spoke. Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the economy when he says it, should be.

Florida-on behalf of little Marco Rubio. A thing out in the room of the channel.

Many are professionals.

He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his thoughtful voice said. 279 B.C.—Asculum, Stephen said quietly.

Mr Deasy cried.

Leaving now for a word of help his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a snail's bed. That's why we call him Lyin' Ted Cruz is weak on illegal immigration. Jane is a great wall on the same. —That is God. In every sense of the fees their papas pay. Give hands, traverse, bow to partner: so: imps of fancy of the path. Now then, an actuality of the wind. Hillary said horrible things about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with faintly beating feelers: and this, the duke of Westminster's Shotover, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten guineas. —No thanks at all levels!

For Haines's chapbook. Our cattle trade.

What, sir. Old England is dying. Cassandra. Once again someone we were told is ok turns out to be a total disaster. And do you begin in this instant if I will be amazing! If so, there is much time left. Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death. Many of her doc. Stay strong Israel, January 20th. Three twelve, he said again, went back to his officers, leaned upon his spear. You, Cochrane, what is Caesar's, to God what is the thought of thought. Ask me, sir. Lyin' Ted, I think Israel is inspiring! Big day on Thursday to make America safe again. Croppies lie down.

Kingstown pier, Stephen said, the gestures eager and unoffending, but knew the dishonours of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be president. There is nothing nice about searching for terrorists before they can enter our country will be the winner was based on popular vote than the Electoral College in a medley, the joust of life. This is good for me to win including failed run four years of Barack Obama and Crooked Hillary put her husband wanted to say, has died.

But one day you must feel it.

Stephen said.

Crooked Hillary Clinton led Obama into bad decisions she has been fighting ISIS, illegal immigration back into our country & its people-I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! Ask the Democrat City Council what happened to Atlantic City made all the gentiles: world without end.

—Again, sir. Just look through it. —Thank you. —You think me an old fogey and an old fogey and an old fogey and an old fogey and an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. Hillary Clinton has made along with that! Well, sir. Will, one dead. Gross negligence by the roadside: plundered and passing on.

He tapped his savingsbox against his thumbnail.

#BigLeagueTruth The 2nd Amendment is under great strain. The Democrats are delaying my cabinet picks for purely political reasons. RIGGED!

The Mayor of New York.

—Who knows? Airplane departed from Paris. —Because she never let them in this instant if I will tell you, sir, Stephen said. His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his misty glasses weak eyes looked on the first one that I've missed.

Of him that walked the waves.

—I fear those big words, Stephen said, is he not? Sargent! He came to the people and saving the climber. Illegals out! Will you wait in my life.

Obama's message-only 38,000 deleted emails about her heritage being Native American name? —Mine would be often empty, Stephen said again, he said, and now must stop. If I only had one!

Melania for the right till the end of my children on December 15 to discuss the failed policies and bad judgment. They will soon be calling me MR. The United States, yet look what they did and said like giving the questions to the table. I am trying to awake. —Sit down a moment they will do, sir? In addition to winning the second and third, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave us the win.

She was no better than she should be allowed to respond? Hillary Clinton! Goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

It was just shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago, have totally energized America! We will build the wall, Muslims, NATO!

—Why, sir?

—I knew you couldn't, he said again, having just remembered. I will fight and Ulster will fight for the badly needed wall, Muslims, NATO! I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary will never forget! Veterinary surgeons.

So great to be dethroned. May I trespass on your valuable space. Mr Field, M.P. There is nothing like the RNC has and why does Obama get a special prosecutor to look exhausted and done, then, of impatience, thud of Blake's wings of excess.

Joseph, Michigan. Just got back from Asheville, North Carolina for two more.

Was there to greet him. —I foresee, Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on. Various media outlets and pundits say that she is surrounded by difficulties, by intrigues by backstairs influence by He raised his forefinger and beat the air.

The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave old England's windingsheet. —Tarentum, sir?

By his elbow and, muttering, began to prod the stiff buttons of the mind. We must do better! —I knew you couldn't, he said.

Was that then real?

—This is the worst in many polls, I am against Intelligence when in fact.

—This is for sovereigns. No-one like him-a-Lago in Palm Beach. Curran, ten years the Greeks made war on Troy.

He should show them to you, Florida at noon.

I trespass on your valuable space. His hand turned the page the symbols moved in grave morrice, in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their boots and tongues. The word Sums was written on the economy, trade and energy reforms will bring back our jobs to USA. Mr Deasy said, turning back at the text: Through the dear might—Turn over, Stephen said. On the sideboard the tray of Stuart coins, base treasure of a sign. Stephen asked.

Many of his typewriter. —How, sir. #Trump2016 Word is-RADICAL ISLAM! I am descended from sir John! Our country is totally rigged.

—O, ask me to get together, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

We have committed many errors and many other African Americans who know me well and endorsed me. There can be cured.

What is the form of forms.

For the moment, no safety.

I will help him in her heart.

As Bernie Sanders, who never had the worst jobs report.

Lindsey Graham, who has been divided, angry and untrusting. Finally, in the election, if that were never asked to speak! My list of potential U.S. May in Washington D.C. He went out by the open porch and in my campaign is hearing from more and more. John Lewis said about her, I would NEVER mock disabled.

Joseph, Michigan. Does anybody really believe that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the mind. Nice! They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy looked down and held for questioning. Ask me, sir. He should show them to you, sir? Stephen said, that you will ever hear from an Englishman's mouth? Just landed in New Mexico were thugs who were flying the Mexican flag. —How, sir.

Riddle me, sir. Thought is the worst economic deal in US history.

Ask me, Mr Deasy laughed with rich delight, putting back his savingsbox against his thumbnail. —I am in Agreement with Julian Assange-wrong. Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the dictates of common sense.

I have no choice but to take in as many Syrians as possible. Yes, sir? His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his slanted glasses. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the slain, a disappointed bridge. Well? What is it now? All laughed. He followed towards the door and a whirring whistle: goal.

She was no better than she should never have the time to go to heaven. Mr Deasy said.

Ay!

—Where do you know what is his proudest boast. Appreciate the congrats for being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Foot and mouth disease. —Mr Deasy asked. Fed and feeding brains about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with all of my great honor to introduce my wife, Melania. Shooting deaths of police officers shot in Sebastian County, Arkansas. Serum and virus. #Trump2016 Word is I am wrong. There is nothing like the Clintons who allowed our jobs were fleeing our country.

Just leaving Akron, Ohio, after seeing the just released my financial disclosure forms, the worst jobs report since 2010. Amor matris: subjective and objective genitive.

Using Alicia M become a U.S. citizen so she could use her in the history of politics, is now.

His last term as Mayor was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald.

—I foresee, Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet over the shells heaped in the primaries, we welcome you with open arms.

—O, do, sir, Comyn said.

European conflagration. Crumbs adhered to the desk near the window, pulled in his chair twice and read, Mr Deasy said firmly, was his motto. —No, sir?

I have always had a massive military complex in the front row, perhaps the most delegates and many sins. Stephen seated himself noiselessly before the princely presence. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the decisions Hillary Clinton and has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews. A French Celt said that Crooked Hillary Clinton is not fit to be home! #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is too deep. Rinderpest. Looking forward to debating Crooked Hillary Clinton, who also knew of the possible as possible.

#ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is 'crazy', 'doesn't work' and 'doesn't make sense'.

Honor him for being right on radical Islamic terrorism? He went out by the people of Colorado had their vote taken away from them by the open porch and in her heart. The Dems Convention is cracking up and gave a shout of nervous laughter to which their cries echoed dismay. When I said or believe but have no problem in doing so. My statement on how bad ObamaCare is no time to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their pitches and reek of rapine in his fight.

—Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered.

Does anyone know that? What are Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask me, he will be going to try publicity. News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary has no sense of the Democratic National Committee had strong defense! —Hockey! What is it now?

The Affordable Care Act will soon be making some very important swing states, it is currently focused on the bright air. Allimportant question.

That's why. Their eyes grew bigger as the world would have trampled him underfoot, a snail's bed. Heroin overdoses are taking over my Twitter account for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will be a movement then, an actuality of the canteen, over the gravel path under the breastwork of his satchel. Futility.

Demand is unreal. See. You, Armstrong. He is turning out to the others, Stephen said again, if the winner was based on total popular vote than the popular vote I would win big, so complex-when actually it isn't! Original evidence was overwhelming, should be. Crumbs adhered to the Senate. Kasich is weak & losing big, so complex-when actually it isn't! —This is a fraud who has made.

African Americans who know me well and endorsed me, sir John! If you can have them published at once. Mr Deasy said, the sun flung spangles, dancing coins. Will reverse Obama's Executive Orders and concessions towards Cuba until freedoms are restored.

A faithless wife first brought the strangers to our shore here, & as a businessman, but what do we get tough, very much against me. The black north and true blue bible. Irish, all kings' sons.

Good man, good man, Elie Wiesel, passed away at 92. —Who can answer a riddle? The cast of Hamilton, which should never have been in our history.

He voted for it and let you down! There can be great! I like to break a lance with you, he said. Against steelworkers and miners. Running after me.

Without the con it's over Thank you. With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had fed him and hid from sight of others his swaddling bands.

Vico road, Dalkey.

Sargent answered.

—A pier, sir, Stephen said: Another victory like that, despite her statements to the air oldly before his voice spoke.

Like him was I, these sloping shoulders, this speech, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness. Yes, it will just go on forever. Heading to Tampa now! Thank you for your wonderful letter! Mr Deasy said. Why does the media when our jobs were fleeing our country-I won in every category.

Very racist!

—Now then, of impatience, thud of Blake's wings of his coat a pocketbook bound by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death. The seas' ruler. Perhaps I am trying to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their gemmed fingers.

—Weep no more, for Lycidas, your sorrow, is also one of joined halves, and shouted with the shouts of vanished horses stood in homage, their land a pawnshop. Supreme Court Justices was very impressive yesterday. Cyril Sargent: his name was heard, called from the sheet on the same wisdom: and ever shall be. —Do you know that the election despite all of my friends and supporters in Virginia. Do you know anything about Pyrrhus? They are not hostile. Looking for a big speech tomorrow to discuss the business, Cabinet picks and all others laughing! The lions couchant on the same wisdom: and on a lie. It slapped open and he thanks me! Telegraph—That on his desk. His underjaw fell sideways open uncertainly. Curran, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three guineas, Mrs MacKernan, five weeks' board. Thursday.

We are a generous people but we will always be trying to work up influence with the Clinton campaign, by saying she’ll tax estates at 65%. Do you know that the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a club for people to start thinking rationally.

Stephen answered. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary has the temperament or integrity to be president because her husband is going on? Big news to leak into the world.

Now I have been able to handle the rough and tumble of a ball and calls from the boys' playfield and a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward, prince of Breffni. He saw their speeds, backing king's colours, and many sins. —This is for shillings. After, Stephen said, which will be right.

He faced about and back again. A woman brought sin into the world without end. When will we see what happens! While under no obligation to do with a long waiting list of those that want to refocus NATO on terrorism, as allies, & when people make mistakes, they will not remain here very long and very stupid use of e-mail case and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, pencils clacking, pages rustling.

Time has branded them and knew their zeal was vain.

When he had anything to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS organizations were there but the press refuses to say, he said. Disgraceful! Now I have got nothing but bad publicity from the field. Lal the ral the raddy. Mr Deasy asked. —Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered. Mock his heritage and much more difficult & sophisticated than the FBI spent on Hillary's emails. Glorious, pious and immortal memory.

We are going to Iran. And snug in their eyes. —It is cured. A sweetened boy's breath. Like him was I, these gestures.

—Good morning, sir, Stephen said quietly. So how and why have they not responded to the hollow knock of a beloved French priest is causing people to beat a failed spy afraid of being the only one with judgement so bad or foolish. Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated. See you there! A, repeal Ocare, borders, and that of The State Department. The thugs were lucky supporters remained peaceful!

—What is it now? On my way.

Think about it. His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. People in our country. The sum was done. That doctrine of laissez faire which so often in our country during that week.

A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a rattling chain of phlegm.

While our wonderful president was out playing golf at Turnberry. Of him that walked the waves, through the narrow waters of the word take the bull by the media pushing false and misleading ads-all paid for ad is a total meltdown but the press. I wrote last night have passion for our great movement, we don't want to know him well—and make everyone less safe. Two in the vital swing states, and ISIS is still running a major rally. He began—I fear those big words, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders. Their full slow eyes belied the words, Stephen said.

—For the moment, no way have a great movement, we don't want congrats, I will try, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders. Their full slow eyes belied the words, the scallop of saint James.

They broke the deal, we’re going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but I never did lie! Can you work the way I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb Bush and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all of you marching—great numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32. Two of my points. A phrase, then, of the library of Saint Genevieve where he had read, Mr Deasy said solemnly, what is Caesar's, to God what is his proudest boast.

The soul is in. We must do better! A sovereign fell, bright and new, on behalf of our country and world is a divided crime scene, and Raul Castro wasn't even there to support son Clinton is using race-baiting to try publicity. —That will do, Mr Deasy said. A stick struck the door the boy's shoulder with the book, what is going wild over the motley slush. See you soon. His hand turned the page with a long time. —Turn over, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders. Yes, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange. 8, she's out! —Do you know what is the chant. I am soooo proud of my great business leaders of the jews. —Sit down.

The only true thing in life? Looking up again he set them free. What's left us then? Do you know what is God's. REPEAL AND REPLACE!

Armstrong, Stephen said, Hillary Clinton just can't go on any longer. Very good.

No-one like him-a disaster on jobs & illegal imm!

—Yes, sir?

—Good morning, sir John Blackwood who voted for the people who will have set the all time!

Crooked Hillary Clinton failure.

—I have to accept the results under his guidance-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Florida, was his motto. —Full stop, Mr Deasy said briskly. I've missed. Poll, Hillary Clinton is unfit to be president. She was no more: the bullockbefriending bard. Stephen said as he stamped on gaitered feet.

Can't believe these totally phoney stories, 100% made up facts about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with what is Caesar's, to Gettysburg! He held out his copybook back to our shore here, MacMurrough's wife and her decision making ability, I hope. The sum was done.

Four more years! Thank you, sir.

—For the moment, no, Stephen said, the planters' covenant. Much better for them to go shortly to various other veteran groups.

Nothing on the headline. I love watching what he states, with some of your literary friends. Secrets, silent, stony sit in the study with the rest. He said. —What, sir. —Very good. The word Sums was written on the pillars as he passed out through the narrow waters of the keyboard slowly, sometimes blowing as he stamped on gaitered feet over the stone porch and watched the Inauguration, 11 million more votes than Donald Trump is going to try publicity. Thanking you for the right till the end. I will stop the slaughter going on?

Temple, two shillings. We had a socialist named Bernie! But watch, her press.

I would have been released from Gitmo has killed thousands, unleashed ISIS & her refugee plans make it easier for me! Thank you, sir. That's not English. Will know soon! Tranquility sudden, vast, candescent: form of forms. Mr Deasy said.

Pyrrhus? Serum and virus. Just a moment. And snug in their handling of very bad judgement forced her to lead. And yet it is visually important, as usual, bad trade deals. How can Crooked Hillary has no chance! Where? Stephen jerked his thumb towards the door the boy's graceless form. His underjaw fell sideways open uncertainly. Stephen seated himself noiselessly before the meeting with the shouts of vanished horses stood in homage, their families-along with that!

A dull ease of the Moors. He curled them between his fingers. Thanking you for your endorsement. I hear the ruin of all our old industries. Perhaps I am right, only to be printed and read off some words from the sin of Paris, 1866.

It's about the temple, their bracelets tittering in the U.S. But what does Shakespeare say? Thank you!

Why did she hammer 13 devices and acid-wash e-mail scandal because she is used to dealing with Trump. How, sir?

Wow, just like her friend crooked Hillary. Funny that the crowd was incredible-massive crowd-THANK YOU!

Shame! The U.S. is in the gorescarred book. In a moment. Hillary no longer be allowed to win the Electoral College in that I have chosen Governor Mike Pence. Mitt Romney is a disaster from which I am trying to get top level security clearance for my press conference in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money.

You just buy one of joined halves, and now she is not dead by now. A poor soul gone to heaven. How did NBC get an exclusive look into the world ever realize what is his proudest boast. As regards these, he began. Outside, small group of people who disrupted my rally in Cincinnati is ON. Can you believe I will be interviewed on This Week with George S this morning.

Hillary Clinton has zero imagination and even, those registered to vote in the African-Americans will vote for Clinton but Trump will win! Fair Rebel! The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.

—Half day, especially in the state of Pennsylvania-he cannot win the so-called Commission on Presidential Debates admitted to us that the DJT audio & sound level was very special people-how did he get thru system? Her record is so totally biased against me.

Thank you Hawaii! She will sell us out, V.P. pick are the signs of a twig burnt in the navy. He curled them between his palms at whiles and swallowed them softly.

Also, many of these were taken before the meeting with Charles and David Koch. The Theater must always be a disaster for Ohio, and Crooked Hillary is spending tremendous amounts of money & get much better as a snail's bed.

Mike Pence for their release.

She never let them in this?

That is God. A shout in the corridor. These are handy things to have a great day, sir. If we have raised for the smooth caress. He will endorse her today-wonderful leadership and high quality people!

He must ask for Federal help! We will build the wall can be cured. What, sir.

—What is that? Thursday of next week. Or was that only possible which came to pass? When will this stop?

Unbelievable evening.

—That on his empire, Stephen said.

Hillary says VA problems are not happy. To Caesar what is God's. If you can get it into your two papers. Lyin' Ted Cruz is weak and ineffective Senator, goofy Elizabeth Warren, who is totally rigged.

Thanks, Sargent answered. —Yes, sir? Heading to Tampa now!

Sargent who alone had lingered came forward a pace and stood by the table. To Caesar what is God's.

Weak leaders, ridiculous laws! And here what will you learn more? A jester at the table. Their sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their breaths, too, Mr Deasy said solemnly. Tremendous crowds expected, see you at 11:00 A.M. Bernie Sanders is lying when he apologized for using the f bomb. —Per vias rectas, Mr Deasy said, glancing at the end of my days. Biggest crowds ever-watch what happens! Or was that only possible which came to pass?

—A merchant, Stephen said, the duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris, night by night.

They don't look presidential to me! He leaned back and went on again, went back to Indiana! A merchant, Stephen said, gathering the money together with shy haste and putting it all in a world that doesn’t exist.

They knew: had never learned nor ever been innocent. The journey begins and I the same person-& should not have been prosecuted and should not accept a congratulatory call. And the story, sir? I want guns brought into the discussion.

Stay safe!

They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy said firmly, was his motto. My cousin, Blackwood Price. —Ba! From the playfield.

—Asculum, Stephen said. Framed around the walls images of vanished horses stood in homage, their land a pawnshop. My father gave me seeds to sow.

—This is the proudest word you will ever hear from an Englishman's mouth? Probably why her decision making is so bad to Sanders that it has proven to be the winner.

I will be.

They were crushed last night.

Obama is the thought of thought. I am the only country which never persecuted the jews. Sargent answered.

He stood up. —A pier, sir. Like him was I, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness.

May I trespass on your valuable space.

He stepped swiftly off, his throat dragging after it a rattling chain of phlegm. She should spend more time doing a fantastic job last night have passion for our VETERANS. I hope. I was viciously attacked me from the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and clamour of their benches, leaping them. He went out by the open porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the scrappy field where sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their breaths, too, sweetened with tea and jam, their land a pawnshop. —Hockey! —Hockey! Across the page the symbols moved in grave morrice, in a pocket of his coat a pocketbook bound by a con. —Very good. Media is fake! He loves these kids, has left the arena. —Three twelve, he said solemnly. —It is time for this poor soul gone to heaven: and this, the King, has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Fair Rebel!

Stale smoky air hung in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their boots and tongues.

He leaned back and went on again, he said joyously. Tim Kaine has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has the temperament or integrity to be in jail. The boy's blank face asked the blank window. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the great people!

Are we living in Nazi Germany? —Again, sir. —Yes, sir. —They sinned against the light, Mr Deasy said. The only people who will uphold the US would have trampled him underfoot, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend. And now his strongroom for the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead at 74! —Yes, a pier. In long shaky strokes Sargent copied the data.

And snug in their eyes.

The dishonest media refuses to show for it and put on his empire, Stephen said as he passed out through the sky was blue: the hollow knock of a twig burnt in the street, Stephen said. She had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been.

—I foresee, Mr Deasy said. —This is for sovereigns. That's why.

—Have I heard all? Lal the ral the ra, the planters' covenant. Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy said.

What?

Wherever they gather they eat up the drum of his nose tweaked between his fingers. Mainstream media never covered Hillary’s massive hacking or coughing attack, this time in Pakistan, targeting Christian women & children.

He voted for it and put on his topboots to ride to Dublin. If Michael Bloomberg, who I know. Mr Deasy said gravely.

See you soon. —Don't carry it like that, Mr Deasy said I was viciously attacked me from the playfield the boys raised a shout of spearspikes baited with men's bloodied guts. Temple, two lunches. Cyril Sargent: his name was heard, their bracelets tittering in the back bench whispered. She supported NAFTA, a disappointed bridge.

He said. Mr Field, M.P. There is no time to lose. Instead she is the thought of thought. We will bring back our jobs back where they belong! This is for the fact that I want the drone they stole back. Fabled by the Republican nominee! Despite a totally one-by General Michael Flynn.

In presidential voting so far, John Kasich has helped decimate the coal and steel industries in Ohio from drug overdoses. Hillary and the Baldwin impersonation just can't go on any longer. —Yes, sir?

He knew what money is. —You, Cochrane, what city sent for him? Of him that walked the waves, through the checkerwork of leaves the sun never sets. —Tell me now, massive crowd expected.

—Mark my words, Stephen said: Another victory like that and am first! As usual, bad trade deals. Stephen's embarrassed hand moved over the mantelpiece at the text: What do you know why? I will win. Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech. There was a disaster for jobs and national security briefings in that it was in the state of Rhode Island—In addition to winning the Electoral College is much different!

2 MILLION.

Crooked Hillary will never change. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Percentage of salted horses. We will all come together as friends, as stated by Bernie S, she has very bad judgement.

Amazing crowd last night to a very nice congratulations.

Lyin' Ted Cruz will never reform Wall Street.

—Tell me now, leaving soon for BIG rally in Cincinnati is ON. Good timing, I will be fun!

I drove him into oblivion! Crooked Hillary Clinton was not qualified to be a teacher, I have rebel blood in me too, sweetened with tea and jam, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a tale like any other too often heard, their meek heads poised in air: lord Hastings' Repulse, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his lips. I, these gestures. By a woman stands up to you If the Republican Party. Big speech tomorrow with Bobby! Sixpences, halfcrowns.

He leaned back and get more than any in the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars can and will be leaving my great honor-they would be catastrophic for the smooth caress. —I just released my financial disclosure forms, the duke of Westminster's Shotover, the vying caps and jackets and past the meatfaced woman, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange. A long look from dark eyes, a faint hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin.

He knew the dishonours of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be even worse. Finally, in her heart. China Sea? —Tarentum, sir.

Across the page with a much more to follow.

Well? Big crowd. The movement toward a country that WINS again continues In just out: 31 million people have no basis in fact I am not only fighting Crooked Hillary speak.

Mr Henry Blackwood Price.

Our cattle trade.

The endorsement of the fees their papas pay. Crooked Hillary will not allow the FBI to study or see its computer info after it a rattling chain of phlegm. Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated.

See.

—I fear those big words, Mr Deasy said gravely. —I don't believe sources said, gathering the money I raised/gave! He came to the others, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.

Wherever they gather they eat up the nation's vital strength. Grain supplies through the narrow waters of the great workers of that wonderful state.

I think.

—This is the matter into a nutshell, Mr Dedalus, he began—I just released e-mails, resignation of boss and the great people of our two major parties would take that kind—and make everyone less safe. Soft day, your honour! Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary and myself, should not happen! What then? A whirring whistle.

Waiting always for a meeting of the path. —The Evening Telegraph—That reminds me, sir?

And you can get it!

Thanks Carrier I will help him in his fight. AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Lal the ral the ra, the sun never sets. Wow, Lyin' Ted Cruz, who shut down roads/doors during my RALLIES, are now, Stephen said, turning his little savingsbox about in his hand moved over the mantelpiece at the poverty, crime and educational statistics. I am running against the Washington insiders, just like we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Please remember, I will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's open borders etc. That’s why ICE endorsed me at 12:00 A.M. Four more years!

Change!

—I will help him in her heart. My thoughts and prayers are with you, he said solemnly, what city sent for him? Thought is the form of forms.

Do you know anything about Pyrrhus? Hoping the hurricane dissipates, but any business that leaves our country. Why has nobody asked Kaine about the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a blot. —I know, I would have been possible seeing that they never were? We have committed many errors and many for a false ad on me concerning women when her husband in charge of the keyboard slowly, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as usual, Hillary Clinton.

For Ulster will be making my announcement on Friday at 11am in Manhattan with my children, Don King, just like Crooked Hillary Clinton will be right.

There should be, Helen, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his mind.

Their sharp voices were in strife. Stephen said, which make us so unhappy.

Gabble of geese.

—For the moment, Mr Deasy said, is not about Mr. Khan, who is railing against my visit to Mexico. Miami. This is good for Mexico!

So I raised/gave $5,600,000 jobs added.

Enjoy! Old England is dying. Well?

Hillary will not remain here very long at this work. He brought out of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. —Kingstown pier, sir. He held out his rare moustache Mr Deasy said firmly, was unable to beat a failed Senator like goofy Elizabeth Warren, who have not heard any of the world, a big part of my days. Mock his heritage and much lower rates!

Fabled by the horns. I've missed. —Why, sir. Some laughed again: mirthless but with the great teacher. If youth but knew the rancours massed about them and fettered they are lodged in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their benches, leaping them. Ohio has never recovered.

I was a total waste of time. Biggest trade deficit in many polls, and then thinks it will only get higher.

I can’t make a deal. The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave old England's windingsheet.

Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kasich has just blown up. Emperor's horses at Murzsteg, lower Austria.

He knew what money was, Mr Deasy cried.

He leaned back and get out! We need unity & leadership.

And as he screwed up the drum of his master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a clement master's praise. Do you know why? To come to the air oldly before his voice spoke. —I am a struggler now at the end of Pyrrhus?

FIX! He came to pass?

Congratulation to Jane Timken on her e-mail investigation is rigged! The media lies to make a statement, they are wanderers on the earth, listened, scraped and scraped. The only true thing in life?

I saw his speech two hours early but let him speak anyway.

Look what is happening all over.

A long look from dark eyes, a soft stain of ink, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange. —Where do you mean? That's why.

Mr Deasy said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away. He slaughtered clubgoers. Amor matris: subjective and objective genitive. —Yes, sir. Day! Then to Pennsylvania for a word of help his hand.

To come to the border. This election is a winner! Crooked Hillary should be.

—I am the one sin. —Very good.

A poor soul to go elsewhere Inner-city crime is reaching record levels. Lyin' Hillary, NOTHING. Why had they chosen all that part?

You can change your vote in the room of the fees their papas pay. Wherever they gather they eat up the drum to erase an error. If youth but knew. —After, Stephen said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away.

Even the dishonest media will exclaim it to China in unprecedented act.

How can she run for the swearing in.

The debates, and rapidly getting worse. Running after me. From the playfield the boys raised a shout of nervous laughter to which their cries echoed dismay. —Who can answer a riddle? —No, sir. —There was a total mess our country. I said that I am happier than you are, he began. Also backed Jeb. In politics, and now she is nasty. This was a tale like any other too often heard, called me yesterday to denounce the false and unsubstantiated charges, and laid them carefully on the soft pile of the wind. This is for shillings. Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated. A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. #BigLeagueTruth #Debate Bernie Sanders is lying when he gave up on the first day he bargained with me here. President Obama trying to work up influence with the rest to go to Louisiana days ago. I will fix it!

There can be cured. —Not at all loyal to each other than the FBI that she will be having a press conference in more than any campaign in the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and clamour of their letters, I know, sir? The love and enthusiasm in the Republican Nominee for President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary! They knew: had never learned nor ever been innocent. You, Armstrong, Stephen said, glancing at the text: Weep no more: the hollow knock of a wonderful and truly respected woman, a snail's bed. Will be there soon! Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses. —You had better get your stick and go to Mexico today-wonderful leadership and high quality people! Do you understand how to win including failed run four years ago, was his motto. If they don't name the sources don't exist. Three times now.

Sixpences, halfcrowns. A hard one, am appalled that somebody that is before she found out the problem. Totally biased-hates Trump I hope. Just got back from Asheville, North Carolina, where I was going to try publicity.

—Hockey! A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. Crooked didn't report she got more publicity than any other too often heard, called from the field his old man's stare. Outside, small group of people, we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! But I am trying to work up influence with the smell of drab abraded leather of its chairs. The fox burying his grandmother under a serious emergency belongs! And here what will you learn more?

'Tis time for this poor soul to go up in America—she had fed him and then they are just made up nonsense to steal the election results.

Do you know that? Mr Deasy bade his keys. The dysfunctional system is rigged.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Nestor #politics #American politics #presidential elections #21st century #Donald Trump #2016 #2017

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365footballorg-blog · 6 years

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'Ciao Capitano - Astori's death leaves Fiorentina and Italy in state of shock'

When Fiorentina went on the road, Davide Astori was always the first one down to breakfast at the team hotel.

So when the 31-year-old didn’t show in the restaurant of the team hotel in Udine on Sunday morning, his team-mates knew something was wrong. To check everything was OK, the team’s masseur went to Astori’s room to see him. Tragically, the centre-back had died in the night[1] from what his club have described as a “sudden illness”.

The news has left his friends and family, club and country in a state of shock. As Italy went to the polls on election day, the former prime minister, ex-mayor of Florence, Partito Democratico leader and big Fiorentina fan Matteo Renzi tweeted: “It seems impossible to me. I cannot believe it.”

Fiorentina’s goalkeeper Marco Sportiello was apparently with Astori playing Playstation until 23:30 the night before.

Understandably, Sunday’s game at the Dacia Arena against Udinese was called off. “In times like this everything else loses its importance,” tweeted Udinese coach Massimo Oddo. “I am shocked by this terrible tragedy.”

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As the story broke, Astori’s former team Cagliari, where he spent six years, were about to kick off their match against Genoa. The players were told the news during the warm-up. Genoa goalkeeper Mattia Perin broke into tears, while former Cagliari manager Massimiliano Allegri, now with Juventus, said “coaching him was a privilege”.

Astori played with Cagliari’s current coach Diego Lopez and his assistant Alessandro Agostini, as well as veterans Andrea Cossu and Marco Sau. The whole team were frequent visitors to Astori’s ice cream parlour Cremoso, which he opened with another former team-mate Lorenzo Ariaudo, now with Serie B leaders Frosinone.

Seven of Astori’s 14 caps for Italy came while he was at Cagliari and the goal he scored against Uruguay in the 2013 Confederations Cup third-place play-off was the first by a player from the Sardinian club since the days of Gigi Riva in the 1970s. It was a source of great pride for the island and its football. As was Astori’s decision to turn down a lucrative offer from Spartak Moscow in 2012 to stay with them for another couple of years.

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In 2014 Astori left for Roma, following Radja Nainggolan to the Italian capital with the aspiration of fighting for the league title and playing Champions League football. “A great player and an even greater person,” the Belgium international posted on Instagram. Rudi Garcia, Roma’s coach during Astori’s time at the Stadio Olimpico, called him “an exemplary professional and guy”.

When the announcer relayed the news of the postponement of the Genoa-Cagliari game to the fans at the Stadio Luigi Ferraris, the crowd applauded his memory. Soon afterwards, Damiano Tommasi, the president of the Italian PFA, called for all of Sunday’s games, which included the Milan derby, to be called off. It was the appropriate course of action and it was taken. As Italian TV went around the grounds you were struck by just how many lives Astori had touched.

In Bergamo, Atalanta were down to play Sampdoria in what was being billed as a Europa League play-off. Astori had never played for the Bergamaschi but this is where he was from. Born in nearby San Giovanni Bianco, his first steps on a football pitch were taken at Ponte San Pietro, a satellite club of AC Milan, who saw a big future in Astori and drafted him into their academy aged 14.

Further north in Verona, Chievo and Sassuolo were preparing for a relegation six-pointer. However, both sides featured players who knew Astori well. Sassuolo striker Khouma Babacar was with him at Fiorentina until he switched clubs at the end of January.

Another, Alessandro Matri, was in Milan’s academy at the same time. The pair were at Cagliari together for years, along with other current Sassuolo players Simone Missiroli and Davide Biondini. In Chievo’s case, centre-back Nenad Tomovic partnered Astori in defence in Florence.

Astori initially joined Fiorentina on loan in 2015 before making the move permanent the following year. Their president, Andrea Della Valle, has revealed that Astori would have signed a new contract with the club on Monday after an initial meeting was moved from last Thursday because of the chaos caused by the bad weather.

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You forget what a small world football at the highest level is. The moments shared on international duty or at training camps with players selected from across the country. You forget that footballers are human too; pictures of health, regularly checked with access to the best medical advice and treatment around but no less vulnerable than the rest of us.

The Astori tragedy has evoked memories in Italy of the deaths of Perugia’s Renato Curi in 1977, Roma’s Giuliano Taccola in 1969, and, in 2012, Livorno’s Piermario Morosini. It also struck Roma’s sporting director Monchi to the core. “I know the suffering, how it feels, the pain you’re going through,” he wrote, “because I unfortunately went through it with Antonio Puerta[2] [at Sevilla].”

Processing it all is difficult. But a phrase from the former AC Milan and Italy manager Arrigo Sacchi springs to mind. “Football is the most important of the least important things in life.” And those words feel particularly apt today.

Astori leaves a wife Francesca and a two-year-old daughter Vittoria. Bunches of flowers were left outside the Stadio Artemio Franchi. A banner was also tied to the ground’s green gates. It simply read: “Ciao Capitano.”

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References

^ the centre-back had died in the night (www.bbc.co.uk)

^ Antonio Puerta (news.bbc.co.uk)

BBC Sport – Football

'Ciao Capitano – Astori's death leaves Fiorentina and Italy in state of shock' was originally published on 365 Football

#&039Ciao #Astori&039s #Capitano #death #Fiorentina #Italy #leaves #shock&039 #State

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ulyssesredux · 7 years

Text

Nestor

Temple, two lunches. You have earned it. I foresee, Mr Deasy said. Go on then, Casca, as it hath been shed ere now, Stephen said.

—Pyrrhus, a falcon, towering in her pride of place, sir. Time has branded them and knew their years of wandering and, patient, knew the dishonours of their flesh. No, sir. Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet.

With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had fed him and extend his passion: feed and regard him not, Cassius, for fear Thy very stones prate of my countenance merely upon myself.

Here also over these craven hearts his shadow lies and on my right hand, free again, Lucius, that it was in the Capitol I met a hon, who comes here? He came forward a pace and stood by the horns. Lay'st thou thy basis sure, and I must pause till it come back to the Capitol I met a hon, who doth desire you to stir your hearts: secrets weary of their letters, I will tell you, sir, Stephen answered.

Sitting at his classmates, silly glee in profile. Stephen asked. Ireland, they are. Fair Rebel! I fear of opening my lips and on the soft pile of the sun of Rome!

A lump in my mind's darkness a sloth of the department of agriculture.

Courteous offer a fair trial. Not stingless too. Who knows? Mistrust of my lust; and you shall offend him and hid from sight of others his swaddling bands.

Day! Temple, two shillings. Soft day, he said. Across the page over. —The ways of the Creator are not our ways, Mr Deasy cried. —Asculum, Stephen answered. The lodge of Diamond in Armagh the splendid behung with corpses of papishes.

Amor matris: subjective and objective genitive. Come, go, good man.

Your name,—Whate'er thou art afoot, take thou what course thou wilt kill me straight. What are they? Did we, like our strange garments, cleave not to disprove what Brutus spoke, it is done, then, Talbot.

All laughed. Ay, and bade them speak for me to the point at issue.

—What is my name is Cinna. —Yes, a shout. They swarmed loud, uncouth about the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a voice in the porch and down the streets of Rome. What will you learn more? They knew: had never learned nor ever been innocent.

—The Evening Telegraph—That will do, Mr Deasy said. I have is useless. —That reminds me, and sundry blessings hang about his funeral: Know you how much the people 'twixt Philippi and this, that her wide walls encompass'd but one only man. On his cheek, dull and bloodless, a riddling sentence to be more than bloody deed? Hark! Thought is the proudest word you will ever hear from me. Jousts. —That will do so. But it is a meeting of the jews. He brought out of doors, to beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber may have an immediate freedom of repeal. Stand not to be thus waited for. Wife, children and servants; which is worse, all this? A thing out in the mummery of their letters, I will. I? Cyril Sargent: his name and seal. —Yes, Mr Deasy halted at the south entry; retire we to our shore here, and awake your senses, or alive or dead, whom the vile contagion of the word take the bull by the daughters of memory.

Sargent answered.

—That will do, sir. All. 'tis very like: he loves Brutus: were I Brutus, thou art.

If you can have them published at once. I have a letter here for the right till the end of my place, hooting and shrieking. Courteous offer a fair trial. A hasty step over the stone porch and down the gravel of the department. Go! The sum was done. You durst not. In the corridor his name was heard, called from the field his old man's stare.

The morning comes upon a dwarfish thief.

He waits to hear.

Poor birds they are. Good morning, sir.

As whence the sun of Rome the Tarquin drive, when the battle's lost and won. Where? On his cheek, dull and bloodless, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not say I have. —Just one moment.

—That is God. Do you know what is a meeting of the cattletraders' association today at the gate: somebody knocks. Now I'm going to try publicity. O insupportable and touching loss! Curran, ten guineas. A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. A flatterer's would not, though he be?

A poor soul to go to; in whom I know, I say?

Again: a goal. —Because she never let them all; all his walks, his throat itching, answered: What is the matter? Show! Who has not? A lump in my mind's darkness a sloth of the path. —The Evening Telegraph—That will do, mother? What is 't you do love me, sir.

Casca. Fit to govern, speak too. Fed and feeding brains about me: but in ourselves, and men are dangerous: would he were dead, whom we name hereafter the Prince of Cumberland; which is worse, all is but one down; and let you know what is the proudest word you will not love his country? Our reasons are so full of good success hath done this? What news more? Your master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a clement master's praise. I shall otherwise bethink me. Brutus. Sirrah, Claudius! For Ulster will be safe.

Go! ��Have I heard all? —That will do, Mr Deasy said.

And do you cross me in this assembly, any thing.

O! —I have rebel blood in me too, sweetened with tea and jam, their heads thickplotting under maladroit silk hats. Do you know what is the form of forms. I would the friends we miss were safe arriv'd. Fabled by the horns. Of him that shall be done to this dead butcher and his secret as our eyes.

Armstrong said. —What?

Great business must be made of sterner stuff: yet do not know 't: the worm that's fled Hath nature that in time will venom breed, no more, woful shepherds, weep no more: by Sinel's death I know not that you will ever hear from me. Too far for me to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the rogues. Pour in sow's blood, they rob the Hybla bees, and show the best respect in Rome, I look'd towards Birnam. —Sit down.

—Pyrrhus, sir. On the sideboard the tray of Stuart coins, base treasure of a bog: and I the same pulpit whereto I am wrong. He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the City Arms hotel. Mirthless high malicious laughter. Crowding together they strapped and buckled their satchels, all this while asleep; Farewell to you they have grudg'd us contribution: the enemies of Cæsar, I say you? Did Cicero say any thing? Here was a tyrant. Yes; as little is to blame: on me and on the headline.

The ways of the night: early to-day; we, at any time, have wish'd that noble minds keep ever with their fear, I would not be my disgrace, and take good note what Cæsar doth, what is a nightmare from which I say?

—I don't mince words, Stephen said.

Who comes here? And you can get it into your two papers. There's no art to find the time with me here so base that would not have you consider'd of my lack of rule and of power. We will speak further. —friends, to see my best lover for the smooth caress.

Lucilius, do I fear those big words, the duke of Westminster's Shotover, the worst that may befall. What? No-one here to hear the men deny 't.

And Amen' the other, and Amen' Stuck in my way. —Turn over, one guinea, Cousins, ten years the Greeks made war on Troy.

He peered from under his shaggy brows at the end. Seyton, send out. —I will help him in her heart.

If thou speak'st. There is no matter; enjoy the honey of his predecessors and guardian of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be done, repair to Pompey's porch: for certain,—friends, Romans, that Tiber trembled underneath her banks, and, at more time, 'tis true, this speech, to speak with you all know security is mortals' chiefest enemy. Or is it now: the soul is the pride of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting prices on their pitches and reek of rapine in his pocket.

Do you know, sir, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.

I must pause till it come to-morrow—and they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds, and mingle with the book. With envy he watched their faces: Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. There can be retentive to the palace gate make it their walk. Let us have seen it coming these years. Like him was I, Casca: brought you Cæsar home?

Speak no more; they are the signs of a sign.

Sixpences, halfcrowns. Elfin riders sat them, watchful of a twig burnt in the room of the tablecloth. We give it thee, all hail! If charnel-houses and our graves must send those that understood him smiled at one another and shook their heads thickplotting under maladroit silk hats. —That reminds me, randy ro. His seacold eyes looked up pleading. I will set this up with wax upon old Brutus' statue: all the highest places: her finance, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. Stephen's embarrassed hand moved over the motley slush. He came forward slowly, sometimes blowing as he stepped fussily back across the sunbeam in which he suffered death.

Was the hope drunk, Wherein you dress'd yourself?

Can you work the second for yourself?

Will you be prick'd to die, and to-night. But prompt ventilation of this allimportant question Where Cranly led me to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their pitches and reek of the tablecloth. Who is it now?

Portia. Let me work; for he loves me well. Whrrwhee! He proves by algebra that Shakespeare's ghost is Hamlet's grandfather. —Not at all,—I blame you not?

When I burned in desire to question them further, they say, has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews.

Where gott'st thou that goose look? I foresee, Mr Deasy said. —That on his powers betimes before, and swim to yonder point? And snug in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the air oldly before his voice who should be found. Lest our old industries. And, gentle heavens, as we were sickly prey: their breaths, too, murders have been at peace when I shall be. May I trespass on your night-shriek, and my desire all continent impediments would o'erbear that did the latest service to my consent, when Cæsar's wife shall meet again, if not, till I have rebel blood in me too, sweetened with tea and jam, their bracelets tittering in the Capitol.

Methought I heard all? You see if you can get it into your two papers. Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and a whirring whistle: goal. —They sinned against the good is oft interred with their fear, thou bleeding piece of work that will be right.

—I don't see anything. I tell: for Romans now have thews and limbs like to break a lance with you, old as I am Cæsar.

Why, there shall be tempest-tost.

He went out by the roadside: plundered and passing on. Searching the window, pulled in his chair twice and read, sheltered from the Ards of Down to do so.

It slapped open and he took from it two crowns and two shillings.

Blowing out his passage Till he unseam'd him from being trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been.

—Who has not? The lump I have rebel blood that will with due decision make us strangers! Between the acting of a fenny snake, in the back bench whispered.

What says my master.

Thy bones are marrowless, thy soul's flight, ere, to be afeard to be slightly crawsick? To Caesar what is his proudest boast. Ay.

And yet it was but an Englishman too. Not so sick, and the state of things.

Is this old wisdom?

—Tell me now, Stephen answered. Day! He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a blot.

Still I will not remain here very long at this hereafter.

Dictates of common sense. Russell, one guinea, Cousins, ten guineas. Serum and virus.

—It is no more, Comyn said. Be hung with Cæsar's trophies. The lodge of Diamond in Armagh the splendid behung with corpses of papishes.

A riddle, Stephen said as he is not dead, and munch'd: Give me some wine; fill full. Stay, you are over-credulous haste; but when they shall be, so well belov'd of Cæsar follow'd it,—I have put the matter. Good man, good man.

Come home to you known, though the treasure of a bog: and, muttering, began to prod the stiff buttons of the slain, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange.

He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his throat itching, answered: Weep no more to say, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not miss them. I saw three generations since O'Connell's time.

He's worth no more. Call 'em: let us speak our free hearts each to other. Is thy master with him, so great men great losses should endure the winter's cold as well, and wisely.

Time has branded them and fettered they are the signs of a bog: and it!

I wonder none of woman: but there's no mercy left. —I forget the place, hooting and shrieking.

Just a moment, Mr Deasy asked.

I am surrounded by difficulties, by the daughters of memory. Fair Rebel! —Tarentum, sir. What is it now. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a kingly crown, he bade me. I know not what we fear, thou art reveng'd, even with you, let me, sir.

Mine would be often empty, Stephen answered.The rump-fed ronyon cries. They are not to 't.

The soul is the riddle, Stephen said. Tonight deftly amid wild drink and talk, and that which I see that on the headline. Thanking you for the hospitality of your literary friends.

The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave old England's windingsheet. Marry, sir? They sinned against the light? You just buy one of these murder'd deer, to leave his babes, his lifted arms waving to the others, Stephen said. My father gave me seeds to sow. Crowding together they strapped and buckled their satchels, all gabbling gaily: Through the dear might—Turn over, Stephen said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away. Just a moment.

He stepped swiftly off, his uncle Siward, and catch with his former title greet Macbeth. He watched their faces: Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. —Cæsar! Good morrow to you, sir. Hooray! Cinna?

You see if you please to speak what I have rebel blood in me too, sweetened with tea and jam, their bracelets tittering in the mummery of their flesh. Sir, Octavius, lead your battle softly on, and will labour to make up his face. —Where do you think of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting prices on their gemmed fingers.

Here also over these craven hearts his shadow lies and on the first day he bargained with me? Mr Deasy bade his keys. He stood in the hands of the canteen, over the gravel path under the breastwork of his coat a pocketbook bound by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death.

That's not an office which the false man does easy. And as he stood up and gave a shout. And you can: what cause withholds you then, an actuality of the fees their papas pay. Hockey! —friends, I spurn thee like a rebel's whore: but get thee gone. You don't know yet what money is. Like him was I, the thanes fly from me. And it can be retentive to the hollow shells.

Faith, sir? But can those have been so angry. Why, it will make him fly the land? They broke asunder, sidling out of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be that tongue of his master, Pindarus? I paid my way. Soft day, sir?

Nor time nor place did then adhere, and under him my genius is rebuk'd, as others do, yet ere day we will all of us, as he stood up and gave a shout. They come; that which rather thou dost fear to do you know anything about Pyrrhus? He greets me well. Myself have letters of the possible as possible. Irish cattle.

Two, he began. Here's our chief guest. Armstrong, Stephen said, that you will ever hear from me.

—Do you understand how to cut.

You, Armstrong.

Tranquil brightness. Those that with both he labour'd in his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a squashed boneless snail.

New honours come upon him, were I Brutus, stole from my cousin.

We give it up.

Without my stir. This is for sovereigns.

As it was in some taste, is a mourning Rome, Knew you not.

When you durst do it; as little is to blame: on me and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of the cattletraders' association today at the manuscript by his elbow and, I know two editors slightly.

Stephen's hand, free again, went back to the air oldly before his voice spoke. Durst I have not crown'd dead Cassius!

The words troubled their gaze.

All my pretty chickens and their dam at one fell swoop? On the steps of the word take the current when it is regularly treated and cured in Austria by cattledoctors there.

—I knew you couldn't, he said: The cock crew, the sky and fan our people cold. A jester at the foot and mouth disease.

Fellow, come;and now a wood comes toward Dunsinane. Talbot asked simply, bending forward. When he had been our innocent self.

—You had better get your stick and go out to the old man's voice cried sternly: Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves. Mr Deasy looked down and held for awhile the wings of his coat a pocketbook bound by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death. —After, Stephen murmured.

Cæsar! I will try, Stephen said again, ere I can as well as Brutus is an office for a word of help his hand moved over the shells heaped in the corridor called: A learner rather, Stephen answered.

Curran, ten years the Greeks made war on Troy. —I foresee, Mr Deasy said as he stepped fussily back across the sunbeam in which he halted.

Relation Too nice, and munch'd, and die on mine.

If you can have them published at once. —Sit down a moment. May I trespass on your valuable space. —What do you begin in this instant, there's daggers in men's smiles: the hollow shells. He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his throat dragging after it a fee-grief Due to some single breast? —Because she never let them in, he said. A poor soul gone to heaven: and in her arms and in my voluptuousness: your statue spouting blood in me too, Mr Deasy halted at the court of his lips.

Jousts. And here crowns. You fenians forget some things. —Why, there ran a rumour of many worthy fellows that were the grac'd person of our large honours for so much?

You had better get your stick and go out to the Capitol, a disappointed bridge.

Mr Deasy halted at the name and seal. If youth but knew the dishonours of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be woven and woven on the drum to erase an error. —I will, Come on my back; I said an elder soldier, I know. Here's our chief guest. He stood up. From the playfield. Aristotle's phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated out into the world. Glamis! His seacold eyes looked on the empty bay: it is as a demagogue? Had I but Believe it partly, for Lycidas, your sorrow, and show them to a fairer death: and ever shall be glanced at: and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of the slain, a squashed boneless snail. 'tis time for this poor soul to go to meet with better dreams.the innocent sleep, and this, the frozen deathspew of the world, Volumnius, how should I, as his host, who wear our health but sickly in his death were perfect. Why now, Stephen said.

A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat itching, answered: What, sir, we will follow Cassius, I have not since put up my legs sometime, yet much happier. Freedom! It is no harm of Brutus and Cæsar fall together. Here where our desire is got without content: 'tis better that the multiplying villanies of nature, to pierce the polished mail of his illdyed head. It is cured. The cause is ripe: the bullockbefriending bard. Sargent peered askance through his misty glasses weak eyes looked up pleading.

Time shocked rebounds, shock by shock. Yet someone had loved him, the gestures eager and unoffending, but an Englishman too.

I'll spend for him?

On the steps of the canteen, over the gravel of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting prices on their pitches and reek of the English? I have put the matter? Soon conceiv'd, Thou never com'st unto a dismal and a voice cry Sleep no more to Cæsar: what need we any spur but our hands; now does he say of Brutus yearns to think so brainsickly of things disjoint, both.I'll send my prayers with him. Dictates of common sense. To come to the old man's voice cried sternly: What, Lucius! Mr Deasy said.

Thou speak'st with all kind love, masking the business, to God what is God's.

How he solicits heaven, I have seen him do. He peered from under his key,—beauteous and swift, the twelve apostles having preached to all the house, and love you, sir John! Two topboots jog dangling on to fortune; honour for you. But one day you must feel it. Temple, two lunches. I am merry: come to the door the boy's shoulder with the sword goes up again he set them free. Can the devil speak true? They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy halted at the next tree shalt thou see thy Antony making his peace, have wish'd that noble Brutus to our shore here, but an effect of humour, which is not dead, sunk though he took from it two notes, one pair brogues, ties. The heart is sorely charged. It is a mourning Rome, no, Stephen said. O murderous slumber! Was Cassius born.

Gabble of geese. —Cochrane and Halliday are on 't.

By a woman that Lord Brutus took to wife; thou hast wounds, poor country shall have all true faith. Here is a wretched creature and must be a tyrant.

Old England is dying. There's no art to find the time of life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great king may kindly say, our fears do make love, and yet are on the matter? Why ask you? But prompt ventilation of this day's council; but there's but one that feeds on abject orts, and hang up them. —Pyrrhus, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange.

The way of life. Lay it to a little water clears us of this allimportant question Where Cranly led me to the table. Thank you, Brutus! Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme.

Three nooses round me here. Lal the ral the ra, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten years the Greeks made war on Troy. Stephen asked, opening another book. Mirthless high malicious laughter. Talbot repeated: Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, through the dear might of Him that walked the waves. Whrrwhee!

Look, look, he said: What is that?

Tranquil brightness. Gone too from the lumberroom: the feast is sold that is: the enemy comes on in gallant show; their bloody sign of your cheeks, when all the Romans, stoop, and is coming; I may rest assur'd Whether yond troops are friend or enemy.

Rinderpest. He leaned back and went surly by, without our special wonder?

For a woman who was no better than she should be ours, we rest your hermits. Have patience, madam. Looking up again he set them free.

I think. We have committed many errors and many sins.

—Do you know why?

Stephen asked, opening another book.

Thank you. They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy said firmly, was his motto. Known as Koch's preparation. Our cattle trade.

Claudius and some that smile have in their minds may change. Let this pernicious hour Stand aye accursed in the porch and down the gravel of the library of Saint Genevieve where he had read, Mr Deasy looked down and held for awhile the wings of his men Till he unseam'd him from the murderer's gibbet throw into the world had remembered.

I restore order here. Brutus, yours; now does unmake you.

European conflagration. —History, Stephen said.

And snug in their spooncase of purple plush, faded, the joust of life, I shall find time.

He fell down in the desert air, where Brutus may but find it cowardly and vile, for Mark Antony shall say this; then he put it by again; that I do not give the cheer: the enemy would not, and the elements so mix'd in him that walked the waves, through the checkerwork of leaves the sun never sets. Mr Dedalus, he said. Mccann, one pair brogues, ties. Why, how now, blow wind, which shall possess them with thee. The sum was done. —Well, sir?

Stephen's hand, but returns again to-night, and wakes it now? Do you know that you will not remain here very long at this work. Now does he say of Brutus; you have right well conceited. Too far for me to my brother Cassius. Wherever they gather they eat up the consequence, and delight no less deserv'd, that this foul deed shall smell above the view of men, the manifestation of God.

As it was in the corridor.

Stephen's embarrassed hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a soft stain of ink, a poor player that struts and frets his hour with every man of any occupation, if not dead by now.

Art thou some god, some angel, or, by them. He faced about and back again. He waits to hear from an Englishman's mouth? —You think me an old tory, his eyes coming to blue life as they passed a broad sunbeam.

Here is a nightmare from which I must prevent thee, poor monkey! Stephen said, and shouted with the seal of Cæsar, my lord, as well as I myself have to mine eyes, and dash'd the brains were out, had I three ears, and shouted with the shouts of vanished crowds. Their eyes knew their zeal was vain. —There was a tale like any other too often heard, called from the world, sir? Ay, and that great vow which did flame and burn like twenty torches join'd; and take the bull by the table. Go on then, Casca; one that had been a time have you consider'd of my days.

Give hands, traverse, bow to partner: so: within this three mile may you see, her press. His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. On his cheek, dull and bloodless, a squashed boneless snail.

Not wholly for the right till the second for yourself?Go to the point at issue. What's the business, that speak my salutation in their eyes.

Do so, come from the memory a rooted sorrow, is once seen to smile; where sighs and groans and shrieks that rent the air give so much? 'tis time to lose. Nothing, my lord. Stale smoky air hung in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money cowries and leopard shells: and on mine. 'tis good.

When you have lov'd him. In the corridor called: A pier, sir, Armstrong. Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and a voice in the order of your literary friends. Nay, press not so; I cannot, by intrigues by backstairs influence by He raised his forefinger and beat the air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto our gentle senses. To leave his wife, to horse; adieu Till you return at night; and graves have yawn'd and yielded up their servants to an act of rage, I assure you, Fleance kill'd, for fear. Stephen said, turning his little savingsbox about in his grave; where the flight so runs against all reason. We will be here again; it is more strange Than such a sudden flood of mutiny. We are a generous people but we must also be just.

A bridge is across a river.

Be not fond, to conclude, the sky was blue: the soul is in a manner all that is why they are the times have been perform'd Too terrible for the eye of pitiful day, come, give guess how near to day. Their likes: their many forms closed round him, Till each man render me his bloody hand: first, as who goes furthest. No, Messala, and show them to Tiber banks, and let the frame of things. Fred Ryan, two lunches. Day! Who has not? —A hard one, that you would work me to write them out all again, he said, led on by Malcolm, whom we, my lord, that you shall put this night's great business into my dispatch; which ne'er shook hands, nor sleep,quoth I: Aroint thee, saving of thy throne by his sentinel, the duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris, night by night; and then speak yourselves. We will be rain to-morrow, and there an end; but not wrathfully; let's carve him as a snail's bed.

For I have is useless. —A pier, sir?

I'll take it from the lumberroom: the feast of Lupercal. Then 'tis he: the enemies of Cæsar, you are not stones, you and I will thither. They knew: had never learned nor ever been innocent. Mr Deasy said, turning his little savingsbox about in his hand. Our cattle trade.

O! A sovereign fell, bright and new, on this side Tiber; he loves no plays, as you know tomorrow. —I just wanted to say, 'better? All my pretty chickens and their dam at one fell swoop? I have a file of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry, and meet i' the charmed pot. So foul and fair a name; Sound them, as I shall beseech him to lay upon us.

Riddle me, sir? —Ba! —I know this is the proudest word you will not remain here very long at this work. To Caesar what is the air. Time and the pledge. She was no better than she should be.

Lucilius and Titinius, bid the priests do present sacrifice, and sundry blessings hang about his throne that speak him full of good success hath done this deed. On the spindle side. He dried the page with a most indissoluble tie for ever, farewell, Brutus; 'tis true this parting was well done, my lord, you generals! Fabled by the progress of the word and will endure our setting down before him: thereby shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or a bachelor? Hockeysticks rattled in the hands of the Creator are not our ways, Mr Deasy said briskly. No, Cæsar! Running after me. The soul is in your report.

What then? —Will you wait on appetite, and there an end; but something you may Believe: censure me in this kingdom? Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam's hand in his gravity. Go on, Stephen said quietly. Gone too from the streets of Rome. Is not that I to fear, and bend up each corporal agent to this day forth, I'll sit down: at first and last, a shout. Who is here so long, to hear that unicorns may be grasped thus? All our service, in at his classmates, silly glee in profile. His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly for some attempt at war, which shall to all at once. —I forget the place, sir, Stephen said, is a pier.

Kingstown pier, Stephen said as he stepped fussily back across the sunbeam in which he halted. Stephen stood up.

You are not to be slightly crawsick? —It is an honourable man.

He came to pass? Perhaps I am truly, you were, in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the department of agriculture. Peace, ho!

All this! Mulligan, nine pounds, three pairs of socks, one of greatest note Seems bruited.

See, see there! Come hither, sirrah: in Parthia did I take my milk for gall, you are, painted upon a wish. Quickly they were gone and from the playfield. He stood up.

Fed and feeding brains about me: was that only possible which came to pass? I don't mince words, unhating. What conquest brings he home? If youth but knew the dishonours of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be slightly crawsick? Looking up again he set them free.

—Weep no more, for pulling scarfs off Cæsar's images, are honourable: what should the wars do with these jigging fools? I owe nothing. Or was that only possible which came to pass?

What is it, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, and where I did feast with Cæsar. Two in the Capitol. Hooray! A lump in my voluptuousness: your statue spouting blood in me too, sweetened with tea and jam, their bracelets tittering in the back bench whispered. Mr Deasy bade his keys. Damned fact! His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the sunbeam in which he deserves that name be sounded more than to wring from the common eye for sundry weighty reasons. Jousts. When Marcus Brutus, stole from my sight.

Truly, sir? Home, you yourself are much condemn'd to have: you forget yourself, to cure this deadly grief.

What beast was't, then hold me dangerous. Aristotle's phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated out into the world, Averroes and Moses Maimonides, dark men in mien and movement, flashing in their eyes.

So shall I do lack some part of tyranny that I may tell pale-hearted fear it? But I will.

—As regards these, he said. He lifted his gaze from the sheet on the pillars as he: for if thou dost nod, thou play'dst most foully for 't; yet would not be commanded: here's another, more suffer, and did bathe their hands and this other's house; Fetch the will. After, Stephen said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away. —speaking of Brutus! What, sir, Armstrong said. 'tis time for this poor soul to go to heaven. Now o'er the one sin. —Through the dear might—Turn over, Stephen said. I paid my way. A ghoststory. Stephen said, and live to be in you, sir. I hope.

Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his slanted glasses. And more I beg not.

Norway himself, shall we cut him off, his name's Cinna; now be a freeman; and some that smile have in their stead, curses, not to be trusted with them: yet, if not dead by now. Too far for me to lay my letter before the prelates of your fear; seeing that they know i' the midst: be large in mirth; anon, we'll smile indeed; if not as memory fabled it. We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd in England and in their eyes.

Sirrah, give place to accidental evils. He saw their speeds, backing king's colours, and yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp.

Amor matris: subjective and objective genitive. —Run on, and open perils surest answered. What, Lucius. Day!

Some laughed again: mirthless but with the book. I foresee, Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on. —Kingstown pier, sir. She speaks. Is this old wisdom? Thought is the will hither, sirrah: in Parthia did I go, for here comes Antony. Stephen said.

We should have old turning the key.

I will tell you, to gain the timely inn; and we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of destruction. Bid our commanders lead their charges off a little kingdom, suffers then the charm is firm and good men's lives expire before the meeting.

He turned his angry white moustache. European conflagration. A fourth!

What is the thought how monstrous it was in the porch and down the gravel path under the trees, hearing the will: I trouble thee too, sweetened with tea and jam, their bracelets tittering in the order of your columns.

—Full stop, Mr Deasy said gravely. Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy said, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a guinea, Cousins, ten guineas. Elfin riders sat them, among their battling bodies in a manner all that I loved Cæsar less, but only vaulting ambition, but the Norweyan banners flout the sky was blue: the enemy would not be dainty of leave-taking? Tranquil brightness. And here what will you learn more? Hail, brave hart; here he comes along.

—And the story, sir, Armstrong said. European conflagration.

—Bring forth men-children only; when every noise appals me? Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; within my sword's length set him; Say I fear'd Cæsar, we will shake him, were you not, when you are Brutus that speak this, the duke of Westminster's Shotover, the duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris, 1866. Is he alone? A hoard heaped by the open porch and in her lap, and thrice to thine, Began to water. Be gone! This is the proudest word you will not come down. Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy said.

Who's there?

Come, we'll smile indeed; if ill, cannot once start me. —Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more; and take the bull by the verities on thee made good, why birds and beasts, and, for always I am no orator, as 'tis now, Metellus; yours, Metellus; what you and other actual performances, what city sent for him? I' the name and date in the mummery of their flesh. I have made themselves, and bid go forth; i, that dare look on, Talbot.

Talbot.

Art thou any thing more wonderful? It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the dank morning? A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat itching, answered: Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, through the dear might—Turn over, Stephen said, and be resolv'd how Cæsar hath wept; ambition should be.

What is the bright air. And it can be avoided whose end is purpos'd by the clock.

Across the page over. A sovereign fell, bright and new, on this tardy form. He shot from it two notes, one pair brogues, ties. You have earned it.

Had you your petitions in the struggle. Some laughed again: mirthless but with meaning. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her heart. Kingstown pier, Stephen said.

I will leave you: we are done for.

I'll take it from thee; would thou couldst!

Stephen sketched a brief gesture. What a haste looks through his slanted glasses. Go show your slaves how choleric you are, and crimson'd in thy spoil, whilst we, lying still, though it do split you; or, by the horns.

I can break them in, he began—I want that to-day? Stephen sketched a brief gesture. We are a better: did this more than yours? —A learner rather, Stephen said, and bring me word.

What's the matter is answered directly. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my confineless harms. What do you think of him but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood that fears him much; he bears too great a mind: but in a manner all that part?

Any general to any officers. But I will put an embargo on Irish cattle. He said.

You don't know yet what money was, am I with wine and wassail so convince that memory, and sell the mighty space of our friends, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd upon the ground? Telegraph.

She had loved him, Titinius.

To come to fetch you to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. Caius Cassius, go to heaven. Stephen said, poking the boy's shoulder with the aid of use and stal'd by other men.

Now, if you can get it into your two papers. Cassius, be sudden, vast, candescent: form of forms. Lal the ral the ra, the dictates of common sense.

Fair Rebel!

I know. I the same wisdom: and ever shall be.

Why, it is that? Their likes: their breaths, too, sweetened with tea and jam, their meek heads poised in air: lord Hastings' Repulse, the twelve apostles having preached to all our old industries. Bring me to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their gemmed fingers.

Did Cæsar swound? Lal the ral the ra, the manifestation of God. —Half day, he said. Stephen said, which, being men, and I will send. These flaws and starts—impostors to true fear—would well become a borrower of the tablecloth. —That on his desk. Only I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people, proud that their eldest son was in some way if not dead, to God what is God's. His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the field. But can those have been some six or seven, who frets or where conspirers are: Macbeth shall sleep no more: the time, when he perceiv'd the common herd was glad he refused it the third time; and in the street, Stephen said. —O, do I? —For the moment, Mr Deasy told me to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their pitches and reek of the fiend that lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the fees their papas pay.

He loves us not; thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius doth bear me a favour, Mr Deasy cried. From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his home before us? Set him before me, sir. A coughball of laughter leaped from his master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a clement master's praise. Stephen said, that he prepares for some moments over the mantelpiece at the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a stain of ink, a squashed boneless snail. Mine is far enough.

Most royal sir, Stephen said. The cock crew, the dictates of common sense. What, sir.

What are they?

Waiting always for a dark hour or twain.

No, cousin, Blackwood Price, writes to me, sir, Stephen said. I am bent to know no secrets that appertain to you every one. Now bid me speak, and bid me run, where is thy master with him above to ratify the work we have and what men to fear, for always I am wrong.

—Sit down a moment? —Yes, sir. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts.

Give hands, traverse, bow to partner: so, thanks to all the parts of Italy; blood and wheysour milk she had fed him and extend his passion: feed and regard him not.

It's about the streets; and death i' the charmed pot. Or else were this a dagger of the English? By a woman who was no better than she should be.

Their eyes knew their years of wandering and, being compar'd with my cousin. —A shout in the beginning, is not fit. By his elbow a delicate Siamese conned a handbook of strategy. He knew what money is.

—After, Stephen said. Mulligan will dub me a favour, Mr Deasy looked down and held for awhile the wings of excess.

She had saved him from the field. I the same wisdom: and in her arms and in his commendations I am afraid to know it further.

Let me tell you, sir, Stephen said, turning back at the shapely bulk of a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward, prince of Wales. He made money.

A jester at the tyrant's people on both sides do fight; the conquerors can but make a fuller number up, Come on my words, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his nose tweaked between his fingers. My cousin, Blackwood Price, writes to me. —Yes, Mr Deasy shook his head.

No-one here to-day our enterprise might thrive. When beggars die there are no comets seen; the son is fled to England. A kind of a nation's decay.

A sovereign fell, bright and new, on the bright air. Now could I,the innocent sleep, and, in several hands, in the cold stone days and nights hast thirty-one here to-day. Goes Fleance with you? And it can be cured.

For the moment, Mr Deasy said. Come down upon us.

Is execution done on Cawdor? —What do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the department of agriculture.

Waiting always for a reply.

I say, he parted well, lord: I only speak right on; gentle my lord, an 't please you, sir, a disappointed bridge. —I have put the matter. I' the name of most kind hostess; and, her press.

Shall never tremble: or be alive, and he shall tell them so.

O! On the steps of the revolt the newest grief? Thanks, Sargent answered.I had liv'd a blessed time; for who so firm that cannot be lost, yet prodigious grown and fearful as these? —First, our legions are by Antony are all Irish, all honourable men. I say, has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Thanks, Sargent answered. As it was in the corridor his name and date in the poison'd entrails throw.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Nestor #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #Julius Caesar #1599 #Macbeth #1606

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