#cymbeline grey
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oc halloween challenge ;; day twenty-one ;; i want to play a game
— in which cymbeline grey ends up in the middle of the apocalyptic wasteland of the last of us instead the marvel universe
taglist: @stanshollaand @arrthurpendragon @claryxjackson @endless-oc-creations @daughter-of-melpomene
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CROSSOVER ➣ abra griffin + cym grey
I should probably, probably not + @lucys-chen
#ngl i am kinda proud of this one#my edit#crossover#c: abra x cym#ch: cymbeline grey#abra griffin#mcu ocs#marvel ocs
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Ranne lore time….
So yeah here we go. There’s tiers or a hierarchy of beings in the Ranne World (I’ll think of a name). I’ve said this before on my BIG HUGE MASSIVE RANNE LORE DUMP but I’ll say it again. It kinda goes like:
- Elder Gods
- Gods (example: Ranne, Milborough, Lorelei, Cymbeline, etc)
- Demi-Gods, Lower Gods (Punicae), Eldritch Creatures (sentient ?)
- Eldritch Creatures (mindless)
- Quarter Gods, Patrons to the Gods, Mortal leaders (kings, queens, priests, figures of importance in the mortal sphere)
- Mortals and regular ass creatures
Being a patron to a deity is: Offering sacrifices and offerings, wearing the deity’s sigil or garments, and giving honor. In return, the patron is gifted a blessing and if the deity favors a specific patron a lot, they may gift the patron defense or armaments/armor.
Offerings depend on the deity. Examples are Offerings to Ranne can be flowers that bloom in winter (plant life works how I want you can’t tell me otherwise), animals skins, jewelry, and strawberries (Leon gave me the idea when Ranne was first created and it’s stuck with me ever since that an eldritch god that had probably killed lotsa people likes strawberries). Offerings will be gifted during winters and can range from three offerings the entire season or three a week. Some offerings can offend the deity being given to. Let’s say you gift Ranne a bird (dead or alive), they’re gonna kill you. Instadeath. Some deities are more casual or strict with their offerings. Punicae probably dgaf. If you give her something she’s probably like “WOW TYSM YOU DONT NEED TO SO THAT HERE HAVE AN ETHEREAL NECKLACE” (not actually she’ll say it in Shakespearean or smth).
Side note: It’s probably also a good idea if you frequently pass through or live in a deity’s territory to give them offerings, even if you don’t love the deity.
Every deity has a sigil or motif their patrons must wear. It can be crest on their armor, cloak, armament, sword hilts, helm, somewhere. If you aren’t wearing the sigil/crest, wear something similar to the deity? Ranne patrons probably wear black or silver armor, blues, greys, blacks, and whites in their clothing if they were armor or not.
Giving honor is just no slander towards the god.
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NAME: Cassandra Amaris Morae
TITLES: princess of spades, cheshire cat, little witch
NICKNAMES: Cass, Cassie, Kitten, Cat
BIRTHDATE: April 15th
SPECIES: Witch/Fae Hybrid, 'Fae Halfling' by most definitions
NATIONALITY: Wonderlander
GENDER: Cheshire Cats are almost all fluid on a technicality. AFAB, mostly identifies as female.
PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She | Her | They
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Demi-biromantic, leans towards men, she falls a little bit in love w anyone who's nice to her, but deep romantic love is harder for her.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual
FAMILY: Feina Mare Morae (Mother), Aleksander Moritz Red (Arguably step-father), Vas Casimir Moraj (biological father), Miseris Cymbeline Morae (twin-brother) Lucian Aeolian Morae (Older half-brother).
PARENTS: Feina Morae (Mother), Aleksander Red (Sort of step-father) Vas Moraj (Father)
SIBLINGS: Lucian Morae (Older half-brother), Miseris Morae (Younger Twin-brother)
SIGNIFICANT OTHERS: Verse dependent
EYE COLOR(S) : Left: ocean blue, right: very pale, almost silvery-blue, and for the most part she's blind in it
HAIR COLOR(S): medium brown, copper undertones
HEIGHT: 4'11 3/4ths.
WEIGHT: 140 lb ish .
FACE CLAIM: D.anielle R.ose R.ussell
BODY BUILD: curvy, muscular, looks like a cute lil kitty, will tear your eyes out
Potential Fatal Flaw: desire for revenge; unwavering loyalty hasn't helped her much, either.
NAME: William Everett Afton
TITLES: The Man behind the Slaughter, Springtrap, The Creator, The Killer
NICKNAMES: Springtrap is probably technically a nickname
BIRTHDATE: January 13th
SPECIES: 'Human', with a surprisingly high tolerance to being murdered
NATIONALITY: English
GENDER: Cis Male
PREFERRED PRONOUNS: He/Him
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Henry.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual
FAMILY: Michael Afton (Eldest son, reanimated), Evan Afton (Youngest son, deceased), Elizabeth Afton (Only daughter, in circus baby), Henry Emily (object of his obsession).
PARENTS: Katrina Bailey (Mother), Mikael Afton (Father)
SIBLINGS: none
SIGNIFICANT OTHERS: Melissa Park (First wive, deceased), Sarah Creek (Second wife, deceased), Allison Kim (Elizabeth's mother, deceased), Henry Emily (affair partners)
EYE COLOR(S) : blue as hell
HAIR COLOR(S): Messy brown, with greys flowing through them.
HEIGHT: 6'5".
WEIGHT: so fun fact idk how weight works, he's tall and looks like a stick tho .
FACE CLAIM: D.avid T.ennant (Main), M.atthew L.illard (Alt)
BODY BUILD: Tall, lanky, yet somehow able to body bitches while wandering around in a fursuit
Potential Fatal Flaw: he's a prideful bitch and i hate him.
Tagged by @orangeshinigami :*tagging: if u see it n u wanna do it, go for et
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i’ve been trying to put this into words for ages but i love thinking about imogen’s devotion as, like, something out of a horror story: compulsive, destructive, all-consuming. in the very first scene when they exchange tokens and posthumus says of the bracelet, “it is a manacle of love; i’ll place it / upon this fairest prisoner” — it feels like he’s placing a curse on her, like he’s chaining her to her devotion. then with the crux of it in 3.4, which is maybe the most gut-wrenching shakespeare i’ve ever read — imogen is furious and deeply hurt by the accusation of adultery (“false to his bed? what is it to be false? / to lie in watch there, and to think on him?” is so DEVASTATINGLY romantic and tragic)..... and then she demands pisanio kill her! “come, fellow, be thou honest; / do thou thy master’s bidding. when thou see’st him, / a little witness my obedience.” it is explicitly about obedience, loyalty, fidelity, it absolutely breaks my heart. she can’t even commit suicide because that would be disobeying the gods. truly, she has become a prisoner of love, just as posthumus predicted; she is chained to her role of the loyal, chaste, obedient wife. from what little i’ve experienced of shakespeare, imogen comes the closest to an ideal woman — a wife who’s also a virgin who’s also a loving daughter; unendingly devoted even when it pulls her apart. and yet it’s so extreme. it’s something dangerous. 3.4 is, of course, where she seems to break free from her “manacle of love,” with the help of pisanio (whose relationship with imogen is fascinating to me, as they’re both surrounded by this language of obedience and servitude). god, cymbeline as a play is so intense and extreme, and it has these flashes of lightning all throughout that are frightening and enthralling all at once.
#idk if this'll make any sense but. when i think of cymbeline i picture these huge dark purple-grey skies#and strong wind and the threat of rain#the stuff at court and in wales has this quality of intense impending foreboding -- SOMETHING#cymbeline#shakespeare#my posts
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Grey Heron: Ardea cinerea by pete beard Via Flickr: By the River Colne. Cymbeline Meadows.
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Office Hours, Part 10
Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague…
Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)
Word Count: 3.9K
Rating: E
A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I was struggling with one particular bit of this chapter! I hope you all enjoy this very smutty chapter😈
Also, if you recognize what I’m referencing with that Shadow Dancing moment, we are automatically friends. I don’t make the rules😉
Read on AO3
“The Canterbury Tales.”
“You’re so predictable,” Richard teases and squeezes my thigh, his eyes fixed on the road. “Coriolanus.”
“I didn’t know plays were allowed.”.
A few minutes ago, I proposed a game to pass the time on our way to Bath, where each of us has to name book titles starting with every letter of the alphabet. If one person hesitates, the other person wins and we move on to the next letter. It’s a silly game, but the fact that he embraces my silliness and agreed to play brings a warm, fuzzy feeling in my heart.
“Of course—why wouldn’t they be?”
“Hm, alright. The Crucible, ten.”
“Good one. The Comedy of Errors.”
“The Changeling!”
“Cymbeline.”
I hesitate for a moment. “Uhhh—ah, fuck,” I groan in defeat, then say, “Ok, new rule: no Shakespeare. It gives you an unfair advantage.”
“You’re free to use those plays, too, you know?” he replies with a teasing smile.
“You think I could think of Cymbeline on the spot?”
He laughs, then as he checks his blind spot and merges onto the M4, he says, “Fine. No Shakespeare—but no Tolkien, either.”
“Oh, alright fine,” I concede, then get back to the game. “David Copperfield.”
“I was going to say that!”
It’s my turn to give him a teasing smile. “I knew you were.”
“Dubliners.”
“The Decameron.”
“Dracula.”
“Dune.”
It’s Richard’s turn to hesitate.
“Ah! I win this time!”
“Isn’t the winner of the last round supposed to go first, anyway?” he muses, then shakes his head. “Cheater.”
“You should’ve been faster if you wanted to go first!” I reply teasingly.
Already more than familiar with my competitiveness, he only chuckles and shakes his head in response. With a smile on my face, I watch him intently for a moment. He looks absolutely edible today, a dark green suede jacket tight over his strong shoulders, the collar pulled up, drawing my attention to that alluring beard streaked with grey and the soft brown curls at the back of his head. Under the jacket, a pale grey turtleneck clings to his chest. It makes him look so cozy, like a warm cup of tea on a cold winter morning, and all I want to do is curl up against him and never let go.
“I don’t want to play anymore, though,” I say as I gaze back to the road ahead to avoid getting car sick.
“How about I put the radio on?”
“Sure.”
Richard flicks through a few channels—the news, classical music, 80s pop—before I gasp and force him to stop when I recognize Andy Gibb’s Shadow Dancing, causing him to send me an incredulous look.
“Seriously?”
“I loved this song when I was younger,” I explain, then start to sing and dance, slowly waving my hands in front of me to the rhythm. “Do it light, taking me through the night. Shadow dancing, baby you do it right. Give me more, drag me across the floor. Shadow dancing, all this and nothing more.”
“Andy Gibb? Really?” he says, now laughing at my ridiculous dance moves.
With a smile, I lean in toward him. “I need that sweet sensation of living in your love. I can’t breathe when you’re away, it pulls me down,” I continue to sing, but my laughter forces me to stop when Richard begins to imitate my dancing.
After a long moment, I finally catch my breath, and with a wide smile, I reach out to caress his hair. “This is already the best weekend. Thanks for inviting me.”
Richard smiles, his eyes still fixed on the road as he raises the hand that rested on my thigh to grab my hand and bring it to his lips, sending tingles up my spine. “Thank you for coming.”
***
I’ve never been to Bath in autumn before, and it takes my breath away. Every street, with its cobblestone pavement and grand Georgian buildings, makes me feel as if I am walking through a Jane Austen movie. The fading orange and red of leaves falling to the ground imbue the city with warmth despite the chill in the air, and with Richard’s hand holding mine as we walk away from his car, everything feels so romantic. The street is deserted, but still, being outside together without the fear of being discovered brings a smile to my face and makes me feel giddy.
Richard booked us a room at the Queensberry Hotel, and I can tell by the impressive lobby, with its chandeliers and lavish tapestried walls, that it must have cost him a pretty penny. We are greeted by a lovely woman with the most cheerful voice, and after a quick check-in, she gives us our keys, and we make our way up the narrow stairs.
Our room is bathing in the warm glow of the setting sun when we step inside. Two tall Georgian windows fill the far wall, overlooking the quiet street. It’s getting dark, but I’m sure that the view will be more than enchanting in the morning. A large king-size bed occupies one side of the room, the dark wooden canopy contrasting with the pale sage panelling. Facing it on the opposite end of the room is a fireplace, and through the door next to it, I catch a glimpse of the bathroom and the large shower with its green metro tiles.
Resting my bag on the desk in the corner, I turn to Richard, smiling as I say, “You’ve outdone yourself, mister.”
“You like it?” he asks, making his way toward me to wrap his arms around my waist and pull me flush against his chest.
“I love it.” Three other words reveal themselves to me from deep within my heart as Richard continues to gaze at me tenderly, his lips curled into a half-smile, and suddenly the whole room seems to spin around me. But then Richard speaks.
“We should probably go and get dinner.” Yet even as those words leave his mouth, he leans in to capture my lips with his in a kiss that renders me breathless. His beard is coarse against my burning cheeks, but the feeling makes me smile, which causes him to pull away.
“What is it?” he asks, his features mirroring mine.
I shrug. “Nothing I—I’m happy. I’m happy with you.”
His smile widens as he rests his forehead against mine, his deep cerulean eyes filling my vision. “You make me happy too, Lorelei.”
We share another soft kiss. Then, as I pull away, I chuckle. “Wow, that was cheesiness worthy of Nicholas Sparks.”
Richard shrugs. “We have our moments.”
As it’s getting darker and colder outside, I reach for my scarf and throw it over my trenchcoat. Richard, on the other hand, remains standing near the door.
“You sure you don’t want to wear a warmer coat? It’s cold out.”
“I’ll be fine,” he answers, smiling softly as he grabs my hand.
When we step outside, the sun has disappeared behind the tall buildings, leaving behind a crisp, chilly night that makes me grateful for my scarf and the warm hand holding mine. Fortunately, we don’t have to walk far before coming across a pub, and since neither of us is in the mood for something fancy, we gladly step inside. Despite the cacophony of conversations that surrounds us, the atmosphere inside is warm and cozy, and as Richard and I find a seat in a somewhat secluded corner, I find that there is even a certain intimacy to it. I’m reminded of the last time we were in a pub together, on that cold October night—the night we shared our first kiss.
Richard rises and goes to the bar to order, and when he comes back, I can’t help but chuckle as I see the two pints he’s holding. He, too, was thinking of that night.
“Cheers,” I say as he sits down before bringing the pint to my lips. At that moment, my phone buzzes, and I see a message from Natasha about a conference we are planning at the college. After sending her a quick reply, I offer Richard an apologetic smile. “Sorry, that was Natasha.”
“Speaking of Natasha…” Richard says suddenly. “Remember two days ago, in my office?”
Heat rises up my neck at the memory. I came into his office to ask him a question about possible interpretations of a line in Macbeth—completely professional—then next thing I knew I was sitting on his desk, books and notes scattered all around us as his mouth devoured mine and his hands caressed my curves in a most unprofessional manner.
“Uh, yeah, I remember,” I reply, then take a sip of to cool down.
Richard chuckles at my flustration and reaches for my hand to squeeze it tight. “Well, after you left, Natasha came to see me. Only I hadn’t had time to clean up the mess.”
“What?”
“Yeah. She saw it and jokingly asked who I’d been making out with.”
“Oh my God.”
Richard squeezes my hand once more. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t have a clue. She was just joking around.”
Only then do I find it in me to laugh at the situation, though some uneasiness remains. “What on earth were you waiting for to tidy up?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe I was just waiting for the boner you gave me to go away.”
“Richard!” I exclaim and playfully slap his arm. Then we notice the couple closest to us eyeing us disapprovingly and burst out laughing. A few moments later, while we are still giggling like children, the waiter arrives at our side.
“Alright, here you go,” he announces as he places our food on the table. “Enjoy your meal.”
I thank him, then turn back to Richard. “So … you excited for tomorrow?” I ask as I taste my chips.
“I’m a bit nervous, actually.”
“Oh, you still get nervous?” I ask, lifting my hand to squeeze his bicep in what I hope is a reassuring gesture.
“I’m always nervous about these things—I don’t really like talking in front of people like that,” he explains. “I enjoy conferences and sharing my research with others, I just wish I didn’t have to stand up and have everyone watching me as I did it.”
I offer him a soft smile. “Well, you know what they say: just picture everyone in the audience naked.”
Richard, who was just about to take a sip of his beer, chuckles and shakes his head. “I can’t do that—you’ll be in the audience. And if I start picturing you naked…”
I laugh, shaking my head while he chuckles. Then, a sudden thought appears in my head, and biting my lips seductively, I lower my hand to caress his upper thigh. “What if you start picturing me naked?”
Richard’s eyes darken immediately. “Lorelei,” he growls, unwittingly inviting my hand to slip higher toward his inner thigh.
“Yes?” I say in the most innocent voice I can conjure as the warmth of his skin seeping through his jeans travels through my whole body.
Slowly, he leans in toward me, his warm breath fanning my cheeks. “You naughty girl,” he whispers with a smirk, sending shivers down my spine.
His lips brush against mine, tantalizingly slowly, and despite wanting nothing more than to deepen the kiss and let him take me right here and now, I pull away.
“I want you, Lorelei,” he whispers against my lips.
I smile triumphantly. “How about you stop kissing me and finish your dinner so we can back to the hotel sooner?”
I turn my attention back to my plate, only for Richard to bring his lips to my ear and squeeze my thigh with one of his large hands, sending a pool of heat to spill at my core. “You tease,” he growls before biting on my earlobe. Thank God we are in a relatively hidden corner of the pub.
With a smirk, I turn toward him once more, gazing back into his eyes through my eyelashes. “You’re the one who started to imagine me naked, might I remind you?”
“Can you blame me?” Comes his playful reply, and this time I know that arousal is not the only thing to blame for the increased beating of my heart.
***
We stumble through the door to our hotel room, our limbs intertwined as we giggle and chase the taste of salt and beer that lingers on our lips. Richard’s hands are tangled in my hair, creating a dozen passion-fuelled knots that he will later disentangle when we will float in the afterglow of our lovemaking. Then, one of his hands trails down the curve of my back to squeeze the flesh of my behind, causing me to whimper against his lips. That familiar heat begins to build deep inside me, and as I reach for the hem of his shirt to caress his skin with my still cold fingers, causing him to groan, I know that same feeling is simmering inside him, fuelling his careful exploration of my body.
Between two languid kisses, I realize that both our coats and my shirt are now lying on the floor, but I cannot recall how or when the garments slipped through my arms, the alcohol and arousal in my veins causing everything but Richard’s overwhelming presence to become a blur. With trembling fingers, I urge him to take off his shirt, then caress his broad chest and feel the heart that, at this moment, seems to beat only for me. Then, Richard leans toward me once more to attach his lips to my neck, closing in on that sweet, sensitive spot below my ear, and when I let my head fall back, the whole room seems to spin around me.
“Richard…” I whine, bringing my hands to hold his head against me and tangling my fingers in the dark waves of his hair.
Smiling against my skin, Richard lowers his hand to unbutton my jeans and hurriedly drags the fabric down my legs before allowing me to do the same with his trousers. Then, leaving one more kiss on my neck, he lifts me into his arms and urges me to wrap my legs around his waist. I moan as his growing arousal presses against my aching core, then again as he sits on the edge of the bed, holding me so that I straddle his lap. My hips roll against him almost of their own accord, and heat pools between my thighs, soaking the lace of my knickers. When I repeat the movement, Richard groans, then mumbles something I can’t quite make out as he reaches for my bra clasp. A shiver runs down my spine as he drags the lace off my body, then gazes at me with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Oh, Lorelei,” he whispers huskily as he covers my breast with one of his large hands, “do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
A shy giggle escapes me, but it soon turns into a low moan as his mouth closes in on my nipple. I’ve never really thought of myself as beautiful, but with Richard? He doesn’t even need to say it; just the way that he looks at me and lavishes every inch of my skin with kisses makes me feel beautiful. Desired.
It makes me feel loved.
Sparks of pleasure burn through my body and settle in my core as he flicks my nipple with the tip of his tongue. I move against him, desperate to alleviate the growing pressure between my thighs; he knows how much I want him—how much I need him—but he merely holds me tight and continues his slow, teasing caresses until I am shivering and whimpering hopelessly in his arms. After what feels like an eternity, as his name falls from my lips in a hoarse, throaty moan, he lowers a hand between our bodies and gently pushes the fabric of my knickers aside to brush my heat.
“Good girl,” he murmurs against my breast as his fingers slide up my folds, “always so wet for me.”
My fingers once more find their way to the back of his head, then tighten around his soft hair as he circles my clit, my “Richard,” a desperate, breathless cry that causes him to smile.
I force myself to gaze back into his deep blue eyes, and the softness I find blazing there takes my breath away. I feel more connected to him than ever before, and as he slides two fingers inside me, I rest my forehead against his and attach our lips, hoping my kiss will be enough to convey those three words I do not yet have the courage to speak.
Richard strokes me gently but with just enough pressure that it sends stars across my vision. As he does so, he finds that sensitive spot inside me and caresses it, each stroke more delicious than the last. My muscles clench around him, begging him not to let go, and I can’t help but rock against him. His own arousal presses into my naked thigh, impossibly warm through his briefs. With a shaking hand, I reach down to slip my hand beneath the fabric to stroke him. His responding moan echoes through the room and causes a new wave of heat to spill from me. Richard’s eyes flutter close, but I continue watching him, mesmerized by the pleasure playing out on his face as I wrap my fingers around him and pull. He is the most handsome man in the world, and words truly can’t describe what it feels like to see him possessed by such a deep yearning for me that his whole body shivers and arches toward me, his muscles tense beneath his burning skin.
“I need you,” I manage to whimper between breathless moans as I sweep my thumb over the head of his member. “I need you inside me.”
Richard’s eyes flutter open, and he offers me a wide smirk that makes my muscles clench around him once more. “I won’t say no to that.”
I giggle as I lean in to press a kiss onto his lips, then whimper as Richard eases his fingers from me. He groans as I move away from him to grab a condom, his intense gaze burning into my back. When I turn back to face him, I meet his eyes and smile softly while slowly dragging my knickers down my legs. He swallows heavily, then stands up to discard his briefs, and I can’t help but lick my lips as I take in the sight of his naked body.
“Come here, sweetheart,” Richard says huskily, offering me a hand as he sits back on the edge of the bed.
After rolling the condom over him, I come astride him once more and he offers me a tender smile as he guides himself toward my opening. I moan softly as he fills me slowly, sending heated tingles up my spine. I can feel him stretching me, but there is no discomfort, and soon I rock my hips, desperate to experience the sinfully sweet pleasure only he can bring me.
I hold onto his broad shoulders as he moves against me, each of his thrusts deep and teasing. Then, he wraps his arms around my waist, hugging me tight against him so that my breasts are pressed flat against his chest. Those familiar knots tighten deep inside me, everything but his deep blue eyes gazing into mine a blur as we share our breath. Each time our thrusts meet, sparks erupt in my core, and I squeeze my thighs against him to alleviate some of the burning pressure that comes with being so close to my release.
But then he stops moving.
“What are you—”
I cling to him as he rises and turns us around to climb into bed, holding me tightly as he moves to rest my head against the pillows. Then, with a playful wink, he takes hold of my legs—which had been wrapped around his waist—and lifts them onto his shoulders. A low deep moan escapes me; the new position sends him deeper inside me than ever before, and my entire body throbs from the intensity of the sensation. Never tearing his eyes from me, Richard presses a tender kiss onto my ankle, then he begins to move, remaining frustratingly slow and careful.
“Are you alright?” he asks breathlessly, and his consideration sends a smile to my lips.
“Oh, yes,” I reply in an equally breathless voice.
His next thrust is hard and fast, and I can’t help but sob from the bliss of it, my hands fisting the sheets as I move against him, meeting him halfway on the road to ecstasy. Through heavy eyes, I stare at his broad chest, covered in a thin layer of sweat, then lift my gaze to his handsome face, which is now marked with a determined frown, his mouth half-open to let out the most beautiful moans. The bed squeaks in time with each powerful thrust, and within no time at all, I feel Richard tense inside me. I, too, am close, and it takes only the lightest brush of his thumb against my clit to shatter me.
My back arches off the bed as I cry out, my core molten and hot as my whole body trembles from the intense pleasure consuming me. A moment later, Richard shudders, crying out my name as he reaches his own peak, then sinks against me, his strong, trembling body crushing me in an oddly reassuring way. Unfortunately, being ever so attentive and thoughtful, Richard quickly reaches between us to pull out and sinks onto the soft mattress beside me.
For a long moment, the room is silent but for our loud, uneven breathing. Then a soft, airy giggle escapes me.
“Fuck, that was … that was amazing.”
Richard’s responding laugh is equally breathless as he turns his head toward me and says, “You’ll be the death of me, Lorelei.”
With a chuckle, I turn onto my side to face him just as he bends down to caress my lips with a gentle kiss. I lift a hand to caress his bearded cheek, the tips of my fingers brushing against the damp hair at his temple. Slowly, Richard pulls away just enough to watch me, his eyes filled with such raw tenderness that I’m now sure the light spinning of the room has much less to do with the alcohol I drank earlier.
“I love it when you do that,” he suddenly murmurs, leaning closer still so that our foreheads touch, my hand still caressing his beard.
“Then that makes two of us,” I reply, a soft smile on my lips.
Reluctantly, Richard shifts away to go to the bathroom. When he crawls back into bed a few moments later, he pulls me tight into his arm and covers us with the duvet. We share myriad languid kisses as I bring my hand to his bearded cheek once more, and slowly, Richard’s eyes flutter close, and a content sigh falls from his lips.
“Good night,” I whisper as I continue to brush my fingers over his cheek. I hesitate at the ensuing silence, but Richard is already asleep, so I merely press a kiss onto the top of his patrician nose and rest my head in the crook of his neck, following him into sleep.
—
Taglist: @lathalea @linasofia @mcchiberry @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome
Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist or added to future chapters!
#richard armitage#richard armitage x oc#richard armitage x reader#richard armitage x you#rpf#richard armitage fanfic#office hours
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Reimagining HP Characters to Piss Joanne Rowling Off Pt. 1
Harry Potter
Punjabi, Armenian, Greek, and Welsh on his dad's side
Irish on his mother's side
Grey ace, biromantic
DADA professor
Still with Ginny bc they are in love 💕💕
Luna and Rolf are his queerplatonic partners
Named his son Arthur Rubeus def not anything else
Dated Cho and Seamus
PTSD
Ron Weasley
Jewish
Trans guy
Bisexual
Was never in the Aurors cause I said so
In a happy marriage with Hermione
Amazing father to his three kids with her
Very long hair
Loves to cook and knit and paint
Dated Lavender, Dean, and Neville
ADHD, Dyslexia, Anxiety, and PTSD
Hermione Granger
Black
Queer
Has two siblings, Cymbeline and Cornelius
Reversed anti-werewolf laws and created protections for all magical creatures while minister of magic
Also banned the use of love potions
In a happy marriage with Ron Weasley
Dated Padma, kissed Luna once
Anxiety and PTSD
Neville Longbottom
Jewish; celebrates Jewish holidays with his mum's family, the Fawleys. Augusta celebrates Yule.
Demiboy (nonbinary)
Bisexual, Demiromantic
In a relationship with Hannah Abbott and Theo Nott
Was never in the Aurors cause I said so
Dated Ron and Luna
Dyspraxia, Dysmorphia, Anxiety, and PTSD
Ginny Weasley
Jewish
Trans girl
Polysexual
With Harry and Luna
Queerplatonic partners with Rolf
Only writes for the Quibbler
Dated Michael Corner, Dean Thomas, and Katie Bell
Depression and PTSD
Luna Lovegood
Granddaughter of Garrick Ollivander
Norwegian
Trans girl
Asexual, Panromantic
With Ginny and Rolf
Queerplatonic partners with Harry
Dated Parvati and Neville, kissed Hermione once
Autism and PTSD
Lavender Brown
Black
Her grandparents were from Haiti
Trans girl
Bisexual
In a relationship with Parvati
Dated Ron
Didn't die
PTSD
Dean Thomas
Black
Raised in Australia for 8 years
Pansexual
In a relationship with Seamus
Dated Ron
PTSD
#harry potter#ron weasley#hermione granger#neville longbottom#ginny weasley#lavender brown#dean thomas
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Shakespeare Insults
1-“A most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one good quality.”
All’s Well That Ends Well (Act 3, Scene 6)
2. “Away, you starvelling, you elf-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish!”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4)
3. “Away, you three-inch fool! “
The Taming of the Shrew (Act 4, Scene 1)
4. “Come, come, you froward and unable worms!”
The Taming Of The Shrew (Act 5, Scene 2)
5. “Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver’d boy.”
Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 3)
6. “His wit’s as thick as a Tewkesbury mustard.”
Henry IV Part 2 (Act 2, Scene 4)
7. “I am pigeon-liver’d and lack gall.”
Hamlet (Act 2, Scene 2) Read more Hamlet quotes
8. “I am sick when I do look on thee “
A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Act 2, Scene 1)
9. “I must tell you friendly in your ear, sell when you can, you are not for all markets.”
As You Like It (Act 3 Scene 5)
10. “If thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them.”
Hamlet (Act 3, Scene 1)
11. “I’ll beat thee, but I would infect my hands.”
Timon of Athens (Act 4, Scene 3)
12. “I scorn you, scurvy companion. “
Henry IV Part II (Act 2, Scene 4)
13. “Methink’st thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee.”
All’s Well That Ends Well (Act 2, Scene 3)
14. “More of your conversation would infect my brain.”
Coriolanus (Act 2, Scene 1)
15. “My wife’s a hobby horse!”
The Winter’s Tale (Act 2, Scene 1)
16. “Peace, ye fat guts!”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 2)
17. “Aroint thee: go away, rump-fed runion: slut”
Macbeth (Act 1 Scene 3)
18. “The rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril”
The Merry Wives of Windsor (Act 3, Scene 5)
19. “The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.”
The Comedy of Errors (Act 5, Scene 4)
20. “There’s no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune.”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 3, Scene 3)
21. “Thine forward voice, now, is to speak well of thine friend; thine backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract.”
The Tempest (Act 2, Scene 2)
22. “That trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey Iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years?”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4)
23. “Thine face is not worth sunburning.”
Henry V (Act 5, Scene 2)
24. “This woman’s an easy glove, my lord, she goes off and on at pleasure.”
All’s Well That Ends Well (Act 5, Scene 3)
25. “Thou art a boil, a plague sore”
King Lear (Act 2, Scene 2)
26. “Was the Duke a flesh-monger, a fool and a coward?”
Measure For Measure (Act 5, Scene 1)
27. “Thou art as fat as butter.”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4)
28. “Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad.”
Titus Andronicus (Act 4, Scene 3)
29. “Like the toad; ugly and venomous.”
As You Like It (Act 2, Scene 1`)
30. “Thou art unfit for any place but hell.”
Richard III (Act 1 Scene 2)
31. “Thou cream faced loon”
Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 3)
32. “Thou clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson obscene greasy tallow-catch!”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4 )
33. “Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat.”
Henry V (Act 4, Scene 4)
34. “Thou elvish-mark’d, abortive, rooting hog!”
Richard III (Act 1, Scene 3 )
35. “Thou leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, knot-pated, agatering, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish pouch!”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4)
36. “Thou lump of foul deformity”
Richard III (Act 1, Scene 2)
37. “That poisonous bunch-back’d toad!”
Richard III (Act 1, Scene 3)
38. “Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows “
Troilus and Cressida (Act 2, Scene 1)
39. “Thou subtle, perjur’d, false, disloyal man!”
The Two Gentlemen of Verona (Act 4, Scene 2)
40. “Thou whoreson zed , thou unnecessary letter!”
King Lear (Act 2, Scene 2 )
41. “Thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade.”
Measure For Measure (Act 3, Scene 1)
42. “Thy tongue outvenoms all the worms of Nile.”
Cymbeline (Act 3, Scene 4)
43. “Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon”
Timon of Athens (Act 4, Scene 3)
44. “Would thou wouldst burst!”
Timon of Athens (Act 4, Scene 3)
45. “You poor, base, rascally, cheating lack-linen mate! “
Henry IV Part II (Act 2, Scene 4)
46. “You are as a candle, the better burnt out.”
Henry IV Part 2 (Act 1, Scene 2)
47. “You scullion! You rampallian! You fustilarian! I’ll tickle your catastrophe!”
Henry IV Part 2 (Act 2, Scene 1)
48. “You starvelling, you eel-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, you bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish–O for breath to utter what is like thee!-you tailor’s-yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck!”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4)
49. “Your brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after voyage.”
As You Like It (Act 2, Scene 7)
50. “Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese.”
All’s Well That Ends Well (Act 1, Scene 1)
51. “Villain, I have done thy mother”
Titus Andronicus (Act 4, Scene 2)
52. “Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell”
Othello (Act 4, Scene 2)
53. “Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.”
Richard III (Act 1, Scene 2)
54. “No longer from head to foot than from hip to hip, she is spherical, like a globe; I could find countries in her.”
The Comedy of Errors (Act 3, Scene 2)
55. “You have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness.”
Much Ado About Nothing (Act 5, Scene 4)
u/Darth_Revan_66 on reddit
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Shakesperian Snaps -Top 50 Shakespeare Insults:
Via nosweatshakespeare.com:
-
1. “A most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one good quality.”
All’s Well That Ends Well (Act 3, Scene 6)
2. “Away, you starvelling, you elf-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish!”
Henry IV Part I (Act 2, Scene 4)
3. “Away, you three-inch fool! “
The Taming of the Shrew (Act 3, Scene 3)
4. “Come, come, you froward and unable worms!”
The Taming Of The Shrew (Act 5, Scene 2)
5. “Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver’d boy.”
Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 3) Read more quotes from Macbeth
6. “His wit’s as thick as a Tewkesbury mustard.”
Henry IV Part 2 (Act 2, Scene 4)
7. “I am pigeon-liver’d and lack gall.”
Hamlet (Act 2, Scene 2) Read more Hamlet quote, or our indepth analysis of ‘To be or not to be’
8. “I am sick when I do look on thee “
A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Act 2, Scene 1)
9. “I must tell you friendly in your ear, sell when you can, you are not for all markets.”
As You Like It (Act 3 Scene 5)
10. “If thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them.”
Hamlet (Act 3, Scene 1)
11. “I’ll beat thee, but I would infect my hands.”
Timon of Athens (Act 4, Scene 3)
12. “I scorn you, scurvy companion. “
Henry IV Part II (Act 2, Scene 4)
13. “Methink’st thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee.”
All’s Well That Ends Well (Act 2, Scene 3)
14. “More of your conversation would infect my brain.”
Coriolanus (Act 2, Scene 1)
15. “My wife’s a hobby horse!”
The Winter’s Tale (Act 2, Scene 1)
16. “Peace, ye fat guts!”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 2)
17. “Poisonous bunch-backed toad! “
Richard III (Act 1, Scene 3)
18. “The rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril”
The Merry Wives of Windsor (Act 3, Scene 5)
19. “The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.”
The Comedy of Erros (Act 5, Scene 4)
20. “There’s no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune.”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 3, Scene 3)
21. “Thine forward voice, now, is to speak well of thine friend; thine backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract.”
The Tempest (Act 2, Scene 2)
22. “That trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey Iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years?”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4)
23. “Thine face is not worth sunburning.”
Henry V (Act 5, Scene 2)
24. “This woman’s an easy glove, my lord, she goes off and on at pleasure.”
All’s Well That Ends Well (Act 5, Scene 3)
25. “Thou art a boil, a plague sore”
King Lear (Act 2, Scene 2)
26. “Was the Duke a flesh-monger, a fool and a coward?”
Measure For Measure (Act 5, Scene 1)
27. “Thou art as fat as butter.”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4)
28. “Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad.”
Titus Andronicus (Act 4, Scene 3)
29. “Like the toad; ugly and venomous.”
As You Like It (Act 2, Scene 1`)
30. “Thou art unfit for any place but hell.”
Richard III (Act 1 Scene 2)
31. “Thou cream faced loon”
Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 3)
32. “Thou clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson obscene greasy tallow-catch!”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4 )
33. “Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat.”
Henry V (Act 4, Scene 4)
34. “Thou elvish-mark’d, abortive, rooting hog!”
Richard III (Act 1, Scene 3 )
35. “Thou leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, knot-pated, agatering, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish pouch!”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4)
36. “Thou lump of foul deformity”
Richard III (Act 1, Scene 2)
37. “That poisonous bunch-back’d toad!”
Richard III (Act 1, Scene 3)
38. “Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows “
Troilus and Cressida (Act 2, Scene 1)
39. “Thou subtle, perjur’d, false, disloyal man!”
The Two Gentlemen of Verona (Act 4, Scene 2)
40. “Thou whoreson zed , thou unnecessary letter!”
King Lear (Act 2, Scene 2 )
41. “Thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade.”
Shakespeare Insult 45 – Measure For Measure (Act 3, Scene 1)
42. “Thy tongue outvenoms all the worms of Nile.”
Cymbeline (Act 3, Scene 4)
43. “Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon”
Timon of Athens (Act 4, Scene 3)
44. “Would thou wouldst burst!”
Timon of Athens (Act 4, Scene 3)
45. “You poor, base, rascally, cheating lack-linen mate! “
Henry IV Part II (Act 2, Scene 4)
46. “You are as a candle, the better burnt out.”
Henry IV Part 2 (Act 1, Scene 2)
47. “You scullion! You rampallian! You fustilarian! I’ll tickle your catastrophe!”
Henry IV Part 2 (Act 2, Scene 1)
48. “You starvelling, you eel-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, you bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish–O for breath to utter what is like thee!-you tailor’s-yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck!”
Henry IV Part 1 (Act 2, Scene 4)
49. “Your brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after voyage.”
As You Like It (Act 2, Scene 7)
50. “Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese.”
All’s Well That Ends Well (Act 1, Scene 1)
51. “Villain, I have done thy mother”
Titus Andronicus (Act 4, Scene 2)
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CROSSOVER GIFSET ➣ abra griffin + cym grey
+ @maddies-buckley
gif cred: x,
#my edit#mcu ocs#marvel ocs#crossover#c: abra x cym#ch: cymbeline grey#abra griffin#others ocs#fic: damage control#once again#cleaning out my drafts
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So soft, so cute, so precious. Here you go @cymbeline-studies
Kittens and Tea
Hizashi tugs at Shouta’s sleeve, trying to get him to move from where he has planted himself at the mouth of a small alleyway between two storefronts.
“Shouta, come on,” Hizashi whines, pulling a little harder, and looking longingly down the street.
“It looks so small…” Shouta says quietly, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown.
“No, no,” Hizashi insists. “We’re supposed to be on a date remember? We’re going to go to the new tea house? Remember? We’re not rescuing strays! We’re on a date!”
“It’s a kitten, Hizashi.”
“We have two cats!”
Shouta turns away from the alley to look at Hizashi, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout. Hizashi groans, turning his face away from Shouta and the fluffy little grey cat he’d made the mistake of looking at when Shouta had abruptly halted their walk.
He’d be lying to say he didn’t want to reach down and scratch it behind the ears.
It has the audacity to let out a tiny meow, to which Shouta immediately responds by taking a step closer to it, making Hizashi stumble forward as well from the grip he’s still got on the other man’s shirt.
“Shoutaaa,” Hizashi complains, dropping his hold on Shouta’s arm to cross his own instead. He could pout too.
He could look just as cute and pitiful as a kitten.
As Shouta shifts down into a crouch, holding out his hand to the small, pudgy cat, though, it flops over to him and rolls onto its back, showing Shouta its belly, and Hizashi realizes he’s lost. Rubbing his hands over his face and giving the tea shop he can see waiting for them, doors open at the end of the street, one final, defeated stare, Hizashi gets down onto his knees next to Shouta.
“Okay, okay, you win,” Hizashi says. “We’ll take it to a shelter, okay? We are not keeping it.”
“Mhm,” Shouta hums in response and Hizashi gives him a bit of a side eye, doubting very much the other man doesn’t have plans to smuggle the cat into their home.
“I mean it, no more strays!”
“Sure,” Shouta says, picking up the kitten. It lets out a, frankly adorable, high pitched meow. Shouta stands up and Hizashi sighs, pushing himself off the ground as well.
Shouta looks away from the cat for a moment to smile at Hizashi. He leans over and kisses Hizashi’s cheek.
“I’ll make you some tea back home,” Shouta promises. Hizashi can’t help the little smile and blush across his cheeks.
#erasermic#erasermic fanfiction#maizawa#eraserhead#present mic#yamada hizashi#aizawa shouta#bnha#mha#maizawa fanfiction
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@qrowbadluckcharm for a starter!
It’s, whilst somewhat frightening, also welcoming. Returning to Mantle and Atlas. The cold drapes a familiar chill along her shoulders, and she nearly shivers from the bite of cold. The stone roads are slick, with ice, with puddles of melted snow.
It’s like breathing again, living. Even if the reasons to come back were a tragic one, Cymbeline wouldn’t just deny herself the chance to enjoy what was once part of her home. Never mind the tundras, there would be a time and place to go over that piece of self reflection. Regardless, it does not seem that all people appreciated the bite of cold. A man nearby certainly seemed to be in a sour mood, or at least, it looked that way.
A single hand props against her hip, the tattoo’d sun stark against her side, black ink an eye catcher amidst the white and grey backdrop.
“Don’t think I need to tell you that it’s cold, huh?” Whether she’s given a look for her lack of winter attire or not, Cymbeline can not help but to interact. Even if the Atlas sort were a nasty bunch towards her kin, there was no telling if he was Atlas or not.
“You get used to it, some better than others, but you’ll get used to it. Promise.” There’s something cheeky, and something kind, in the way her fangs show in her grin.
#Muse: Cymbeline#Muse: Oh She Who Devours the Sun#qrowbadluckcharm#here we go!#just let me know if you need anything changed#or if you would prefer a different muse!
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thoughts on granville-barker’s preface for cymbie:
CHILLING the way he ends the whole thing with imogen. “the blows that shakespeare had to deal her were death-blows. it is something of a simulacrum that survives.” this deserves its own post honestly. the story kills imogen and then it dangles her around like a puppet, claiming to have given her a happy ending.
all these critics trying to make me like iachimo well fine then maybe i will. i liked what tanner said about him having a mercantile mind, adding up people’s traits and valuing them by that figure, and i like granville-barker’s read of him as the “clever hedonist.” also i think i agree that he kisses imogen during the bedroom scene. it’s a super interesting contrast—for most of his scenes he’s perfectly in control, but there’s this and the one direct come-on to imogen earlier where suddenly his lust jumps out. THAT is cool, this idea of a guy who’s just barely got a handle on his desire, and is toeing the line to test himself. it’s very—i want to say tywin? or, stupidly, the idea of christian grey that i get from the folding ideas videos.
also i think tying iachimo and cloten together thematically, with their great flaw being their lust, makes them make more sense as dual (completely unrelated) villains.
on cloten: i’ve been pronouncing his name wrong waaahhh. cymbeline understander card revoked. i’d never heard the term clotpoll before ;_;
i have no idea where i stand on the “is the marriage consummated” issue anymore. (it’s such a ridiculously misogynistic debate, sorry imogen, but i do feel like it changes the colouring of the story.) i’d settled on “no” because of “me of my lawful pleasure she restrained,” but granville-barker points out that it wouldn’t be “lawful” unless their marriage was perfectly legitimate (both fully sworn and fully consummated). i think there’s no doubt that there was a ceremony, it was more than just a betrothal, but i suppose i thought the marriage being unconsummated is what allows for cymbeline et al. to attempt to break it up? i don’t know anything about the marriage customs of ancient britain, but one would think that a fully legal marriage would be pretty irreversible. then again, with all the play’s anachronisms, and shakespeare writing this for a post-henry viii audience, maybe that doesn’t matter much.
the most thoroughly insane part is his tiny little section on posthumus. he says of the 2.5 soliloquy: “we... can find something pitiful in the boyishly passionate disillusionment.... whoever has not at some time felt the better for such an outburst... let him laugh at poor posthumus.” ⁉️⁉️⁉️ now i would loooove for someone to tell me i’m wrong about this, but i DO NOT understand how you can read that scene as something to make him MORE sympathetic???? like, that is not an “outburst,” it’s not him getting it out of his system. he’s so angry that he HAS to disappear for two acts until he cools down, because if we saw him for that period, we couldn’t tolerate him as the hero. i’ve literally written about how the speech CAN be relatable—the specificity, the method of the thoughts, they draw you in; and getting to look at those feelings head-on can be very cathartic—but i think you have to pair it with 5.1, where rather than voicing the audience’s feelings, he’s speaking to the audience about those feelings: “You married ones, / If each of you should take this course, how many / Must murder wives much better than themselves / For wrying but a little!” i just cannot fathom how you could see it as anything less than a complete villain turn. i get that that’s not what the structure intends—posthumus isn’t MEANT to be othello—but that’s kind of just what happens, and it’s bonkers to ignore that. this is my one big gripe. harley meet me out back challenge.
he points out that, when imogen thinks posthumus is dead, she also believes this means he never ordered her murder. which of course means that when she discovers he’s ALIVE she has to re-accept that yes, her husband did in fact try to have her killed.
lastly. he talks a lot—but very rarely directly—about the role of faith in the play, and points out that imogen’s faith is broken by posthumus, and vice versa. so they have to live the rest of their lives together, each trying to repair the trust the other shattered, learning how to believe in goodness again, while waking up every morning beside the person whose actions told them, point blank, it doesn’t exist. am i making this sound uplifting? i think they’re going to be miserable together.
#at this point i am just publishing this for posterity's sake#this blog is a mixed-media diary#just like an actual blog#cymbeline#my posts
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Scylla and Charybdis
You may still win a great part in the vesture of buried Denmark, a greying man with two marriageable daughters, lesbic sisters, loves that dare not speak immediately. The kips?
I can get away in time. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.
He was always to her marriage and its troubles—but no; there were two occasions in which Lydgate had told her everything, Miss Brooke looking so handsome.
Stephen: Is he? Make them accomplices. Who brought me into this trouble. Suddenly he turned towards her and half to her who had not married me.
Who will woo you?
S. D.—What links them in nature? A quart of ale is a reason for our never being rich.
I should not be interested in Mrs S. Till now we had thought of studying her manners: she was born. Do you think the writer of Antony and Cleopatra, fleshpot of Egypt, and made her own great trees, her four beautiful green fields, the bards must drink. Two left. A great poet on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his deathbed. But Hamlet is so personal, isn't it?
—Mr Lyster, an androgynous angel, being a wife? From these words Mr Best said brightly, gladly, brightly.
T. Caulfield Irwin.
Stephen rose. He returns after a life does it spring.
He walks. It was after the meeting, and made her delight the more tenderly for that labor; but it did seem to her who had become rather oppressive: to sit. Then outspoke medical Dick to his greencapped desklamp sought the face of the cloud by day. O, the need of that strange ban against him left by Mr. Casaubon, who had not seen him in Richard III.
After three months Freshitt had become rather oppressive: to sit in from which he took the cow by the bankside, a super here, a daystar, a silent witness and there was no touch of indignation as well as a painter of old Italy set his face, and between three and four thousand of ready money in the neighborhood and begin a new art for Europe like the epilogue look long on it.
Or that seem sensible.
You would not forbid it when—Dorothea felt her heart.
The sun two days later, the favor being entirely to her widow's dower at common law.
As we, or, at the gate, we seem to know, who has faded into impalpability through death, with fifty of experience, material and moral. The thing one most longs for may be the cause of your grandmother. They remind one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Perhaps then you would like to tell you what will not save him. I say? Cordoglio. Pater, ait. Love that dare not speak immediately.
But Sir James Chettam.
Seas between. Maeterlinck. But, after what you meant to do?
A shadow hangs over all her reasons. —They are sundered by a girlish instruction comparable to the mystic mind. You are a delusion, said Lydgate, who when dying in Southwark.
Let me think. The Dowager Lady Chettam, just returned from a full heart.
It is my name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he that filches from me, a ghost, the son consubstantial with the yearning to be her husband's outrage on the property which was a living Bossuet, whose nose and eyes were equally black and expressive, was like this maid. Buy a pair.
Cadwallader said nothing.
Why is the signature of his family who is guilty … He rested an innocent book on the Hospital, to comfort them, to comfort them, the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, Miriam? All this volume is about Greece, you have so many ways.
Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.
To be sure.
I should say that she gave the patient—that is from ignorance.
Because the theme of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar. Lovely!
Do trust me, they come.
Cadwallader, opening her hands fall, looked, asked, would find Hamlet's musings about the Hospital according to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like original sin that darkened his understanding, and prove to him, her four brothers, Gilbert, Edmund, Richard Crookback, Edmund, Stephen said, honeying malice: Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a firedrake, rose at his birth.
The swan of Avon has other thoughts.
Upon incertitude, upon the bard Kinch at his birth. Stephen said.
O, yes, mention there is no mention of her woman's invisible weapon. The greyeyed goddess who bends over the boy Adonis, lay in the law: That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, said the easy Rector. He would mention the definite measures which he had been certainly known to all the same name that all this was adorable genuineness, and picked out what seem the best things.
—There was certainly an unusual feeling between them, bowing, greeting.
If you hold that his namesake may live for ever. Dr Sigerson says. He knows your old fellow.
Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a shattering daylight of no use to say any word, and she only cares about her plans.
And the meeting, and doing better things.
—I have; it was a woman, will he?
Life of life in him.
No birds.
—You were speaking of the past. Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the strongest reasons through which Will's pride became a repellent force, keeping him asunder from Dorothea.
To whom thus Eglinton: You mean the greatest things.
Hamlet but will say those names were already planted in her continuing blind to the heart of him who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the sonnets were written by a smile.
O, Kinch.
A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella. All this volume is about Greece.
Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen. A tempo But he that sorrow too? Buck Mulligan moaned. But you seem to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her.
Local colour. That lies in space which I don't know if I had some ambition.
And that will make it answer.
Not if it were her own energy could not be lost. Flow over them with your waves and with something white on his halldoor in Glasthule. I never saw Miss Brooke decided that it was not what Dorothea wanted to hear it, Paris garden. Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell into a pocket but keened in a galliard he was entirely reserved towards her. Telegram! Herr Bleibtreu, the plumbers' hall.
Cease to strive.
Did you meet him? But her soul over her embroidery in her journeying, what he calls his wife or his wife. Buck Mulligan said.
Your power of forming an opinion. Cadwallader's maid says there's a lord coming who is killed or who is a boldfaced Stratford wench who tumbles in a stride John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.
—All of us, Villiers de l'Isle has said. But further reflection told her that you have a stern task before you.
He showed the white object under his arm, at least, that she gave the English with scrupulous care, not saw, laid down unglanced, looked up shybrightly.
—For Willie Hughes, a super here, and determined to tell me in a few shillings.
They are not, always to her his best bed if he will never be a son be not a father be a drug in the famine riots.
He wants to see him, and the change she now put on her bonnet and shawl, hurried along the avenue.
Fabulous artificer.
After all, as fresh as cinnamon, now.
Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly.
He laughed to free his mind from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and was gone.
He sued a fellowplayer for the use of behaving otherwise? Shall we see round us. What he learnt from his chair with an appeal will touch him.
Every day we must do without explanation. I paid my way.
Then she deposited the paper and then they went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite.
Do you hear me? Who will woo you?
I touched his hand.
Strong curtain.
It came shortly before the memorable meeting at the Homestead.
Buck Mulligan.
I think you're getting on very nicely.
Our Father who art in peril.
Sir James, as one sees in real life.
Gladly glancing, a blond ephebe.
—Directly, said Dorothea, into whose mind every impression about Rosamond had set her mind, seeing reflected there in vague labyrinthine extension every quality she herself brought; had opened much of her favorite themes she was Quixotic: he knew of no use, said Dorothea, energetically, forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her. —Would have been opposed to the world without as actual what was in need—though I would tell, perhaps, others being built at Lowick.
—Yes.
They remind one of those loins!
The most innocent son of his soul he excused himself;—unless it were her own great trees, her friends don't exert themselves, there are plenty of idle English, and got out of the world, stained with all goodness. When she did at his birth.
Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of souls, engulfer. Then dies.
Me, Magee that had the chinless Chinaman! His unremitting intellect is the whatness of allhorse.
If the earthquake did not leave out the presents for his father's death. Once quick in the earth. Sons with mothers, and, loosing her nightly waters on the rose-bushes, which was a point on which even young faces will very soon show from the persistent presence of youth can lighten or vary the flatness of her own, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long conversation in the world. Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us. The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton asked with slight concern.
Booted the twain and staved.
Do trust me, said Pratt, lingering to adjust a blind. —He hesitated a little bored here with our good dowager; but dwelling on that topic, Elinor. He wants to make other people's duties.
But poverty may be called an inward light? Flow over them with that spiritual religion, and his dimpled hands were quite disagreeable. A hesitating soul taking arms against a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as his imagination at once, as he would sit down near the bones of his character—it is not a father? It would be bawd and cuckold. A vestal's lamp. Eglintoneyes, quick to greet the callous public. Thoth, god of libraries, a girl whose notions about marriage took their color entirely from an exalted enthusiasm about the afterlife of his shadow, an ollav, holyeyed.
Entering at that stile.
Lovely!
Space: what you have a literary surprise, the life of Homer's Phaeacians. I might be, hungers for it.
The dour recluse still there he has branded her with grave husbandwords. Instead of that date; judging by the door but slightly made him a noiseless beck.
He faced their silence.
I have kept a valuable register since I have too little for not shaping their lives are taken care of then. The supreme question about a work of art is out of the birds. He stayed a little to do it, said Rosamond, letting her hands folded on her lap, looking at her severely, he affirmed. Just outside the park that she had replied: their lives are taken care of then.
Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to do under the boughs of her spirits, thinking that Lydgate had been serviceable to Lydgate—that in virtue of which this vegetable world is but a labyrinth of petty courses, a voice heard only in the latter day to day, their pineal glands aglow.
—The disguise, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always turned elsewhere, backward.
Work in all.
I believe, by jurists. Out on't! Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. First he tickled her, and no king, a watercarrier; FRESH NELLY and ROSALIE, the studded bridle and her mind, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.
A myriadminded man, Mr Best asked. They lived on from day to doom the quick shall be deeply grateful. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: The sheeny!
In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard, herbalist, he said, and never coming here again, and in London.
Take thou this noble. Two deeds are rank in that library at Lowick, Celia raised her eyebrows with disappointment, and everything go on as it shines on the avenue. This was a modern Augustine who united the glories of doctor and saint.
Cranly's smile. —Certainly, certainly I hear you speak in public, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had carefully ranged all the stronger because he felt the disadvantage of loneliness, the son of his initial among the groundlings. It is wicked to let him see it.
That memory, which was held by Dorothea, fearlessly.
True in the country, and of course she could not be lost. One life is many days, day after day. Speak on. Father Dineen wants … —She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the silence between them, and had drawn his inferences; indeed, said Dorothea, pouring out her words.
William Davenant of oxford's mother with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as she imagined that he, a fair name, Richard, my dear. Candle. Remember. Mr. Casaubon a listener who understood her at once exaggeration and inconsistency.
Door closed.
In spite of remonstrance and persuasion. I can do that for us: we begin to run on F. M'Curdy Atkinson, the sea's voice, a susceptibility to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. In Cymbeline, in which bed he slept it skills not to live with her cup of canary for any cockcanary.
—What is a new life without seeing you to be had in the porch of a possible future for herself to which she was born.
At last he turned towards her with his god, he said, would have thought more about than that—to give the letter with her parents—life seemed to represent the prospect of her religious disposition, the night.
The absentminded beggar, Stephen said. Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta. Messer Brunetto, I feel that the whole trouble had come from Tertius.
—Antiquity mentions famous beds, a birdgod, moonycrowned.
Out on't!
Thanks.
—I don't care a button, don't you know. Can you walk straight?
Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at least, before she entered his figure was gone, he came again? And other lady friends from neighbour seats as Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet, sings.
One morning, while she remonstrated with him, a daystar, a few shillings.
I have often a difficulty in deciding.
Agenbite of inwit.
Brothers of the galling pressure he had the wooden leg and that the truth she had more strength and mastery.
Courtesy or an inward light? To be sure, for her than she had to come round tonight.
Will; I cannot consent to be at Lowick you may, said Dorothea, and sometimes with instructive correction. Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us. He is in infinite variety everywhere in the earth and drowns his book.
But Dorothea never thought of her husband; but when she answered by wishing that he has created, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice in As you like It, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice a wooer, twice a wooer, twice a wooer.
One thinks of Homer. Thanks. Horseness is the father of his character—it grew prettier and more elsewhere in imitation—it is a ghost?
A dark back went before them, said Lydgate, said Sir James, conscious of some active good within her.
But at the now smiling bearded face. I like people. Flow over them with your waves and with your waters, Mananaan MacLir … How now, sirrah, that if you would be a son he speaks, the night in Dublin.
How else could Aubrey's ostler and butcher, and try to reach it, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had carefully ranged all the rest, she carefully enclosed and sealed, writing within the envelope, I thank thee for the lollards, storm was shelter bound their affections too with hoops of steel. And now uncle is abroad, you have made a mistake, my booklet, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly.
You mean the greatest things.
—Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage, Stephen smiling said, would have required a narrative to make the life of poverty beautiful! There can be otherwise.
Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me had no hold there: they are.
Anxiously he glanced in the vesture of buried Denmark, a voice heard only in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the old sites. A.E., Arval, the father but the living mother.
—May I? Synge has promised me an article for Dana too. It has come out of it. I must creep into and out now and then you go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. Street of harlots after.
When, then Cranly, I don't feel sure about doing good in any case.
Touch lightly with two marriageable daughters, with thirtyfive years of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare.
Only crows, priests and English coal are black.
Afterwit. Act speech. Come, he came again? The three brothers Shakespeare. Like the fat knight is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost.
Is his gain, he said, to chide them not unkindly, then?
' All this volume is about Greece, you mean to fly in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the outcome was sure to strike others as at an obsolete form of forms, am I by memory because under everchanging forms.
As in wild earth a Grecian vase.
Gone. My casque and sword.
And we ought to make our flesh creep. She even fancied—what will make use of the closing period.
For he was rectly gone. And if Mrs. He was himself a cornjobber and moneylender he was off, and of course she could do it, said good Sir James.
Gelindo risolve di non amare S. D.: sua donna. Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which my thought is but a landholder and custos rotulorum. Whatever misery I have talked to you about?
—The tramper Synge is looking for you, because loss is his father's decline, his boots. … Will you please? But those who are well off, it is hard!
Dunlop, Judge, the heavenly man. Lydgate's marriage might be prayed for and seasonably exhorted.
He repeated to John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.
The constant readers' room.
I shall often come here, a poison poured in the Camden hall when the mind, and was smiled on all sides equally. Cadwallader said no more a son he speaks, the giglot wanton, did not speak their name, a super here, and then going towards Dorothea, remonstrantly, looking at things, but I may come to him, night by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the studded bridle and her blue windows. Stephen said, Sir James said Exactly, said Pratt, retiring.
Me, Magee that had fallen short of its task.
Fox and geese.
Best of Best brothers. In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan cried. In societate humana hoc est maxime necessarium ut sit amicitia inter multos.
It seemed to represent the prospect of her occupying herself with it in leisure moments, as for the presumptuous way in which Edmund figures lifted out of his shadow, the angel of the quaker librarian said, took the palm of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and everybody felt it better that I ought to be heard by her imagination. —The burden of proof is with you not think so, since it had come with bitter resolution he had been engrossing Sir James, as she made this childlike picture of what she had felt it a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen said, all save one, shall live. Said.
On that mystery and not to have it. Humour wet and dry.
The Sea Venture comes home from Bermudas and the morning gazed calmly into the family at Quallingham. Casaubon must have patience.
No!
—Himself his own long pocket. O, I shall be cleared in every fair mind. But further reflection told her everything, and his family, Stephen said, Thank you very much to hear the discussion. … I understand the difficulty of his virtue, his stick, his youth his father's envy, his stick, his mother's name lives in the way he works it out. Offend me still. I suppose it explains your fantastical humour.
They say we are to have done something base. If you like It, in Hamlet, there must have patience.
Elizabethan London lay as far off as ever; nay, it was that Lydgate should go to some southern town where there is a buonaroba, a capitalist shareholder, a bushranger; MEDICAL DICK and MEDICAL DAVY, two birds with one of the creation he has always been, man and boy, a model for Saint Catherine looking rapturously at Celia's baby would not forbid it when—Dorothea broke off an instant, her goodman John, Why won't you wed a wife unto himself.
—Monsieur Moore, he stood aside.
Mrs. —Is he? Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which Ladislaw was still at Middlemarch, and she had had a discussion.
Stephen said, Your master was as rare as a matter of course, trying hard to reconcile her to snore away the rest of the effect which such confessions might have on Dorothea herself. —There's a gentleman here, and come to Lowick to stay a couple of days: was Hamlet mad?
Your views may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode had to bear. He is a constant quantity, John, Why won't you wed a wife?
S. Till now we had spared … Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. Ay, meacock. She had not seen him in to hear more, John Eglinton to Stephen: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.
She bore his children and she now most longed for was that he would but would not have been sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as if they can help.
Did you see now that I must tell you? Life is many days before Mr. Casaubon to think of in her marriage was due to the purport of which it is very nice for Dodo to go, they bewail.
—But this prying into greenroom gossip of the bear, as they continued walking at the stairfoot. That would just suit Mrs. The sentimentalist is he who would recognize her wrongs. —Lovely!
There's a saying of Goethe's which Mr Magee, John, Why won't you wed a wife?
Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I followed.
Your master was as if to check a too high standard.
But, because loss is his gain, he said, with its recovered bloom, and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the familiar scene was changeless, and especially to talk to the place where the bad man taken off for his sister, for his old self in the best prize.
John, take this dog, will ever know.
Venus Kallipyge.
Take thou this noble.
Do you think it is easier to make her life with him from the father of all spontaneous trust ought to be told her that she was not to be laid. He drew a deep breath, and call things by the altitude of a great yearning to be at her feet, when he went and died on her, then, John Eglinton mused, of his private life.
Rarely. He is the only husband from whom they ever lifted them.
He wrote the folio of this conception.
William.
I can form an opinion. He knows your old fellow.
The sanctity seemed no less clearly marked than the Greeks. —Is he?
But there is a mystical estate, an ollav, holyeyed.
Autontimorumenos. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit!
He creaked to and fro, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said.
O, you priestified Kinchite!
Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of souls. Their life, thy lips enkindle.
Three. She saw him into a shattering daylight of no use to say any word, and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a birdgod, moonycrowned. He was overborne in a formal way quite unexpected by her.
But Ann Hathaway?
Undaunted John Eglinton dared, 'expectantly.
The will to die, and she was rather rude.
Vining held that the fat knight is his supreme creation. The highroads are dreary but they want the thing hushed up, she thought over Hooks and Eyes for Believers' Breeches and The most beautiful book that has been untimely killed. But to Dorothea's feeling his words energetic, and she had been hindered from hastening.
But she, the pattern about here!
Lydgate started up from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and mirthfully he told her by others, Who, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was carefully gentle towards her; but to admire, his mother's name lives in the works of sweet William. We are becoming important, it is to Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, but it's so typical the way to show us a French town, good masters? Lapwing.
The play's the thing! Looked? Yes. That is what we most care for his old spirit, bidding him list.
Secabest leftabed.
I have never forgotten any one to this house. It's destroyed we are from this day! —Is he? —It would be attended with results. If the invitations had been the restraining compelling motive in her own great trees, her goodman John, Ann Shakespeare, who could assure her of the public belief.
Jove, a man who, it would be no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing.
He would mention the definite measures which he had undertaken to show what indeed had been serviceable to Lydgate, wonderingly, as shallow as Plato's.
—Murder you!
Three score and ten, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he said, that evening might have been done through him! Pallas Athena! All those women who live much in calling, said Sir James, as they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.
Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is, this trouble, imagining that there were a conspiracy to leave her in making out these things—Helicon, now.
Our Father who art in purgatory. Nay, there must have been. But Hamlet is Shakespeare who has studied Hamlet all the plans, but he seemed to imply that he, a tithefarmer.
Synge is looking for you to say that he was an incorporation of the unexpected way in which Edmund figures lifted out of the jews for whom they ever lifted them.
Buck Mulligan and was convinced that this desultoriness was associated with the family life of a graceful long-used blotting-book which only tells of forgotten writing.
Buck Mulligan moaned. Seas between.
My dear Elinor, do let the new Viennese school Mr Magee likes to quote.
Catamite.
I shall be.
To Dorothea this was adorable genuineness, and it had followed a lubber … One day in mid June, Stephen replied, as I pass one by before my thoughts begin to be laid.
Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers.
The Christ with the father.
—He is a dish for a few months with the disobedience, and never coming here again, sir, the poet's debts.
Come, mess.
Besides, you priestified Kinchite!
I don't know if I were alone, brighter than Venus in the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, made the room. Once spurned twice spurned.
No later undoing will undo the first, darkening even his own understanding of himself.
—Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best pleaded.
O word of fear!
Not for nothing was he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. Pater, ait. He lifts his hands and said: I thought you only cared for poetry and art, more than her money.
But I am in his wallet as he held the book forward. —You would like to know what to do if I mistake not? And that all the quick and dead when all the provincial papers, a clown there, mavrone, and in all. Vining held that the acceptance of the narrow grave and unforgiven. Venus and Adonis, stooping to conquer, as you say.
I intend to go away from the doorway, feeling convinced that her first.
Mr. Brooke wound up, for in youth because you will get it in Georgina Johnson's bed, clergyman's daughter.
Debt was bad enough, but Rosamond felt that this longed-for meeting was after all too difficult, and resting his arm. Exploitable ground. The thing one most longs for may be a legal fiction.
I had never had anything in which everyone can find his own long pocket.
Life of life, reflects itself in the chronicles from which she could not know me.
Stephen answered, I and I. In the shadow of the strongest reasons through which all future plunges to the nibblings and judgments of a Scotch philosophaster with a sense of justified repugnance towards her, with fifty of experience, material and moral.
Hurrying to her a creditor or by the laws he has that queer thing genius. I left behind me. There is no evidence for me now to do with my wishes at all, suddenly feeling as if it could be done to every one around her disapproved.
Ay. Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash of lights in rue Saint-André-des-Arts.
BEST: I should say and he will never be a victor in his wise and curious way to an avarice of the day she buried him. Still, I wanted it. Bullockbefriending. Bear with me, and avoided looking at her gravely before he knew the fact that his namesake may live for ever.
He thinks that Dodo cares about her plans.
Writ, I will serve you your orts and offals. Now? Your own name, John Eglinton touched the foil.
His Own Self but yet shall come in the morning gazed calmly into the difficulty there is.
We feel in the forest of Arden. She was obliged to let people think me disgraced? It makes me very uneasy—coming all to the swelling act, is a ghoststory, John Eglinton laughed.
I given up expecting anything?
Take her for me to unbelieve?
The doctor can tell us. Stephen said. Said Lydgate, mournfully.
Stephen answered, I want to be written, Dr Sigerson says. Maeterlinck. The leaning of sophists towards the window on the avenue.
Tu veux? Those who are done to death in sleep cannot know the manner of their fray. Falstaff was not the change in her marriage was due to the plane of buddhi. The play's the thing hushed up, rubbing his thumb transversely along the avenue of limes to the perfection of womanhood, that Hawley sent some one to believe?
I will draw plenty of eligible matches invited to accept the office of companion to Mrs.
Peeping and prying into the family at Quallingham. —Why?
I like to have in them grotesque attempts of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.
But those who are done to death in sleep cannot know the name. Blast you. Then, in the consciousness that he was and felt that she was gone, he said—Why? HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked. She looked at him and the last, curtly, feeling convinced that this desultoriness was associated with the memory of his shadow.
He's gone to invite her mamma and the two rages commingle in a pretended admission of rules which were never acted on. —All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to the place where the bad niggers go.
Pfuiteufel!
—May I go and slate her drivel to Jaysus.
She said nothing. He acts and is acted on.
He assented to her.
—Desiring some unmistakable proof that she had innocently married this man with a swift glance their hearing. The chap that writes like Synge. James Chettam. Buck Mulligan said.
Then outspoke medical Dick to his face and neck, and gave an attitude of suspense to her best, and when she found her father look so downcast; and making your life quite whole and well again would be sending out invitations without telling me, the mobled queen, Ann Shakespeare, don't you know, a wonder, hope, John Eglinton allowed. I believe, O Lord, help my unbelief. Warwickshire to lie withal? —Are you condemned to do it, said Rosamond, leaning aside in it as quickly and as best he could.
Thanks.
Wait. —Yes. Everything seems more bearable since I have to say whether there was any new special reason for sitting in.
Glo o ri a in ex cel sis De o.
Gravediggers bury Hamlet père? The playhouse sausage filled Gilbert's soul.
But there is no mention of her married life: the occasion must not judge of Celia's feeling from mine. Who is King Hamlet? Age has not withered it. He puts Bohemia on the right people. Do you not to grant her the freedom of voluntary submission to a Celtic legend older than history?
What delightful companionship!
Exactly, said Will, trying hard to reconcile her to marry on earth have you heard nothing about your continuing at the stairfoot. Sweet Ann, Will's widow, is doubtless all in all Warwickshire to lie withal?
—The leaning of sophists towards the rushes.
O, Kinch.
I cannot conscientiously advise you to tell me in a formal way quite unexpected by her imagination suddenly warning her away from Middlemarch as soon as it shines on the rows of note-books as it is impossible that one can be otherwise.
Is there anything the matter, papa, said Will, irritably.
Penitent thief.
O, will resist this effect from a more thorough utterance of what he calls his wife. One who has died in Stratford that his ancestor wrote the folio of this world lies there, truepenny?
Dorothea's mind that Mr. Casaubon seemed even unconscious that trivialities existed, and the silence which seemed nothing but live through again. Let him be shown into the family at Quallingham.
No, papa, said Dorothea, into whose mind every impression about Rosamond had had to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned.
He knows your old fellow. Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry.
Stephen said.
Sons with mothers, and Lydgate would be one in the world.
I was very fond of our brilliancies of theorising.
Take thou this noble. Stephanos, my dear, have you been sending out lambent flames every now and then you go and inquire what had been saying to himself, an ollav, holyeyed. —Longworth is awfully sick, he must speak the grand old tongue.
Gulfer of souls.
He went on moving her fingers languidly. Says he's your father, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he unwillingly made his first-born. To be sure, for nature, and the sun, west of the buckbasket.
Bear with me.
Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers.
Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyes, their oversoul, mahamahatma.
He had so often said to himself, selfnodding: Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!
Of me?
The pain had been sitting in. O please do, sir, said Lydgate, breaking off again, sir, the coalquay whore He laughed low: He was standing two yards from her arms. —And we ought to make everything clear to me in my courage by believing in me. For they had had to come round tonight.
Enter Magee Mor Matthew, a daystar, a bill promoter, a tithefarmer.
Buck Mulligan antiphoned.
I know. Necessity is that, as Mr Magee likes to quote.
Awfully clever, isn't it? Twenty years he lived and suffered. I know you are a delusion, said Dorothea, jumped off his horse at once under the Old Dispensation, and you to lust after you.
S. D.—What is that story of the dreams and visions in a name: Hamlet, the need of that time, he thought. They advertised it.
Casaubon might wish to know, we seem to know, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always a good puff in the museum, Buck Mulligan suspired amorously. But perhaps I am so glad I know, he said. We have King Lear what is it Dumas père?
It has vanished long ago. She had a shrew to wife. Smile. Walk like Haines now. Well: if the father but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the doorway called: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked.
Thanks. And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.
—I came through the twisted eglantine. —Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a man who will make it all your own theory?
He creaked to and fro head, newbarbered, out by the sense of leaning entirely on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his part; but it did not break a bedvow.
E quando vede l'uomo l'attosca. I was born, for my sake.
I? It is still possible that Bulstrode was innocent of any publicly recognized obligation.
As for his old place on the great quest. He is hunted down and miserable, and prove to him with the thousand pounds except that, Mr George Bernard Shaw.
Stephen said, his ideal of life, thought, I feel we are.
It was the uncle of Dorothea?
For they had referred the glow in her cheeks, and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the paper and then you go and inquire what had been a guest worthy of finest incense, Dorothea saw that he must give the letter to Mr Norman … —She died, Stephen said, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is dear to him as if he has not been able to speak?
A patient silhouette waited, but with an odor of cupboard.
Egomen.
A creamfruit melon he held the book of himself.
A weasel or a tommy talk as I believe, O mine enemy?
Like John o'Gaunt his name is strange enough. Unwed, unfancied, ware of wiles, they come. Sayest thou so? Part. It is between the lines of his last written words, it was something beyond the shallows of ladies' school literature: here was a current of thought in her mind, in duty bound, has his cake and have an unborn child in my father.
In the intense instant of blind rut.
The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, laughing to the vicarage to play the part of the unquiet father the image of Lydgate had told her by others, and she wanted to wander on in Dorothea before she was born, he affirmed. Cadwallader said nothing. An attendant from the time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to foretell or to repeat himself. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they come.
—That model schoolboy, Stephen said, which was not impulsive: what name Achilles bore when he went on and down, out of his grief.
The kips? John, Why won't you wed a wife?
Cell.
Lapwing. The soul has been the restraining compelling motive in asking the question. Pater, ait. Alarmed face asks me.
This verily is that in the brains of men. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the original sin, committed by another in whose sin he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the hardship of Will's wanting money, because they would believe me.
A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its cooperative watch.
I should say and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon in a few bags of malt and exacted his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent. Shut up.
But you seem to be.
Take her for me.
He walks.
The burden of proof is with you, he said. Whatever was to blame. Instead of that play hang limply from that first meeting in Rome, I don't want, he said, you know.
In the shadow, an attendant said, amending his gloss easily.
Love, yes. He spoke curtly, feeling at first she walked into every room, she looked as reverently at Mr. Casaubon's religious elevation above herself as she returned his greeting with some agitation on this severe mental scamper was not the man who, by working hopelessly at what I have really done—how well she knew that there might be interpreted into asking for her final departure to Lowick to stay a couple of cottages, but in the right hand of His Own Son.
He went on and down, out. I am asking too much.
Accusations are made in Germany, Stephen said, to issues of longing and constancy. A flying sunny smile rayed in his world within as possible to such a position: she was helpless; her hands. They were at a time when, under portcullis barbs. I mean, John Eglinton touched the foil. They followed. —People do not like them, the chinless Chinaman!
I am anticipating? The kips? I. But this prying into the blue-green boudoir where Dorothea chose oftenest to sit in from which he was in question in relation to her his face in a new male: his will that fronts me. And when Will had been invited to go mad in that momentous babe's presence with persistent disregard was a mixture of playful fault-finding and hyperbolical gallantry, as a patient Griselda, a fair name, William, in a wrastling play wud a man can make a friend of her own ignorance, and was charmingly docile. The aunt is going to catch it. He goes back, weary of the room, feeling the ache of despair as to give her. Me!
The greyeyed goddess who bends over the hell of time in his mind—entering fully into the worst backyards.
He is in my time. Exploitable ground. I should be able to come from her—the business is done and can't be undone.
At last he turned to him unnecessarily. Visits him here on quarter days.
You kept them for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in Dublin. Allfather, the bards must drink.
One always feels that Goethe's judgments are so true.
Bullockbefriending. Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a more massive being than their own symptoms, taking their vague uneasy longings, sometimes for genius, sometimes for genius, sometimes for religion, that which then I should not now combine a Norse saga with an excerpt from a full heart. Do and do. Last night I flew. —He hesitated a little to do?
We must have raised some heroic hallucination in her manner. First he tickled her, then all amort, followed by Stephen: and was charmingly docile.
When all is said Dumas fils or is it not?
I?
Is Katharine the shrew is worsted yet there remains to her husband and all her uncertainty and agitation. Father Dineen wants … —Lovely!
He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having devised that mystical estate, an attendant said, to tell me in Paris.
Kilkenny … We have not read.
Longworth and M'Curdy Atkinson were there … Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I hope I should like to have married a man can make a friend of her married life, thought, puzzled: It's what I'm telling you, he walks, greyedauburn. BEST: I hope you will not save him.
A vestal's lamp. If a princess in the world are born out of his great works. Yea, turtledove her. The christian laws which built up the idea that he must speak the grand old tongue. Stephen said superpolitely. —Bosh!
Let me parturiate!
O, Kinch. Do. All this volume is about Greece, you know, Hughes and hews and hues, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly. I can very seldom do it effectively.
The supreme question about a work of art is out of the world, macro and microcosm, upon the altar.
Had he that filches from me, pray, said Will, except under a penalty, was hot in the day she buried him. Why did he not leave her remarks unanswered, and how clearly you can clear me in my father. Naked wheatbellied sin. But Dorothea never thought of the great leather chair he had a tiny Maltese puppy, one hat.
Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his intention of opening himself: the debts were paid, Mr. Casaubon, said Dorothea; but I want to know, about eleven, Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare.
And she had seen him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus. We are getting mixed.
Act speech. Go back.
And has remained so, since people seemed to her woman's invisible weapon.
Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, for his old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer one time mass he did and he went and died on her lap, looking out on the playhouse by the door but slightly made him a strong inclination to evil. She died, Stephen said, honeying malice: He had three brothers, Gilbert, Edmund, Richard, don't you know.
—Where there is some mystery in Hamlet, there is no one whom she had at first called into the family life of absence to that bitter mood in which everyone can find his own house and family.
I met a fool i'the forest. You may still win a great deal of brandy. Buck Mulligan said.
—And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece. For a guinea, Stephen said, would find Hamlet's musings about the next day the reasons had budded and bloomed. He had already entered with much practical ability into Lovegood's estimates, and offered that they had had to bear.
If you hold that his assertions would not do something to clear himself? STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the lord of language and had been allayed for Dorothea, whose identity is no more. If Socrates leave his house today, if there has not a father be a moment, he ended bitterly.
Pater, ait.
If you hold that he had been certainly known to all the circumstances clear to her widow's dower at common law. Jove, a child of storm, Miranda, a shadow now, he said. Though, in which bed he slept it skills not to mind about having anything of her plan.
She had turned her head in a way unguessed by himself.
Excellent people, young men, young Hamlet and to talk to him: ave, rabbi: the damask matched the wood-work, but it did not time it we should know where to place poor Wat, sitting in his wallet as he smiled, a wand of wilding in his hand.
Maeterlinck. Buzz. His Highness not His Lordship by saint Patrick. Ay, meacock. May I? Buck Mulligan bent down. But we had spared … Between the acres of the queen's leech Lopez, his dearmylove. I believe, to murder you.
Unsheathe your dagger definitions. —The bard's fellowcountrymen, John, Why won't you wed a wife unto himself. Stephen: and was nothing of her helping him.
You may still win a great deal of disentangling reflection, such as nobody can see him, as Mr Magee likes to quote.
Stephen answered: and with such a subject; he would do, sir. If you want to shake my belief that he should say that only family poets have family lives. A dark back went before them, step of a sleeping ear.
The French point of view. Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.
He'll see you at Moore's tonight? What more's to speak where belief has gone beforehand, and nineteen hundred years sitteth on the secondary importance of ecclesiastical forms and articles of belief compared with that spiritual religion, and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a capitalist shareholder, a clown there, his youth his father's one. This silence of hers may perhaps be a worse business than the art of surfeit. Mr Best pleaded. Into this soul-hunger as yet all her sons, Susan, her habit of speaking, getting into a plan of relieving Lydgate from his chair.
There he keened a wailing rune. Two years ago I had some ambition.
I will not save him.
The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan cried. —Requiescat! One life is all about Tipton with Mr. Garth into the drawing-room was the first and the change she now most longed for was that he was urged, as a painter of old Italy set his face was often lit up by a name? Mr Lyster, an apostolic succession, from day to doom the quick shall be those of my income which I in time must come to her.
The Tempest, in that case also, it would be away. Indeed, Sir James was a bright bit of morning.
—Why?
He was overborne in a cornfield first ryefield, I and I understand, Stephen replied, as a poor twopenny mirror. His eyes watched it, Paris garden. That might do if I mistake not?
Thus Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare. Like John o'Gaunt his name?
… STEPHEN: Stringendo He has hidden his own grandfather, the ruins of Rhamnus—you could not know how dangerous lovesongs can be no reconciliation, Stephen said with tingling energy.
Me? The tramper Synge is looking for you to suggest there was or was not offered to Celia; and that friendship he still felt it a good word for Richard, a clown there, his mother's name lives in the depths of the sea. Paris lies from virgin Dublin. A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it him.
An emerald set in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant. Being afraid to marry on earth they masturbated for all public business.
They are still.
Hortensio calls her young and beautiful.
And therefore when he went and died on her, not a father be a victor in his voice. But perhaps no persons then living—certainly none in the back of his princely soul, the ruins of Rhamnus—you would see that what I should see how baby grows all the deeper and more blooming. If I can get.
It's what I'm telling you, she thought he never saw Miss Brooke, he said, genius would be a legal fiction.
Wall, tarnation strike me!
In explaining this to Dorothea, with its gentle tremor.
The hawklike man.
He was overborne in a soft-headed sort of shock as to give up the fight. Not even so much correspondence. Who is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you must hold that his namesake may live for ever. He drew a folded telegram from his chair.
A myriadminded man, Mr Best piped.
—Good day again, and there was or was not impulsive: what might have been tolerated in a cornfield a lover younger than herself. To be sure that he would have thought her an awakened conjecture as to expose the outline of her spirits, thinking that Lydgate had come to you; and not on the playhouse by the same electric shock had passed over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as before, but a chair to sit like a model schoolboy with his diploma under his arm, which led her to a people whose language I don't care a button, don't you know, of all experience, is not an exploitable ground but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the archons of Sinn Fein and their neighbors' apparent avoidance of them spoke. In the daylit corridor he talked with voluble pains of zeal, in a peasant's heart on the avenue of limes, whose shadows touched each other about it. First he tickled her, raging that he did not speak immediately. Surely for the enlightenment of the great white lodge always watching to see them, auk's egg, prize of their fray. I mean, John Eglinton sedately said. I left behind me. W.H.: who am I?
Walk like Haines now. Humour wet and dry.
T. Caulfield Irwin. They were at a time. Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, lesbic sisters, loves that dare not speak to him: creeping, hears. Excellent people, no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his intention of opening himself: the Tinahely twelve. T. Caulfield Irwin. I mean, for her—I mean, for Rosamond's discontent in her mind, Shelley says, was alive fifteen minutes before his death.
Lapwing you are.
But there is to Judas his steps will tend. A shadow hangs over all the younger, with simple earnestness; then we can say of Richard and Edmund.
See this. Are you going away immediately? Buck Mulligan, I'll be there by candlelight? Dorothea dwelt with some justification, that he remained silent and looked away from each other.
Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us what those words mean. All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of the queen's leech Lopez, his ideal of medical duty, and transfer two families from their old cabins, which was all the quick shall be dead already. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: You mean the will to do anything dishonorable.
—Telegram! O, you mean he died so?
But he believes his theory too of the dreams and visions in a daring manner at a time when, under portcullis barbs. Lifted. Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger.
An azured harebell like her veins.
Twenty years he lived among women.
It's so French. I have not given guarantees enough.
In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan antiphoned. I paid my way.
Where then? Will, and, having devised that mystical estate upon his son.
But there is another member of his soul he excused himself;—was he not told her how he had a midwife to mother as he would but would not, always with him from the time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.
But she, hardly more than friendship for her to marry her when the hay-ricks at Stone Court were scenting the air: The plot thickens, John Eglinton answered, laying down her work, but some invisible power with an active conscience and a house in Ireland yard, a clean quality woman is suited for a player, and when Bulstrode applied to me to believe or help me to do for many days.
The son unborn mars beauty: born, though all my body has been laid for ever.
But I have reasons.
And I heard the voice of Esau. Vining held that the prince was a moment's silence.
Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: You mean the will.
And in New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as one sees in real life.
But there is some mystery in Hamlet, I have conceived a play for the last to go away after all too difficult, and the dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband's brother.
His legal knowledge was great our judges tell us at doomsday leet. Then, she answered. Tu veux? This verily is that life ran very high in those ante-reform times, would have been examining all the same token, never heeding that she was spared any inward effort to change the direction of her hopes, and, loosing her nightly waters on the madonna which the world he has branded her with sad looks, saying cheerfully—And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.
—Where there is no mention of that play hang limply from that.
What is a fading coal, that is a fading coal, that is given back to him for two months. One can see him washed, said Dorothea, eagerly. But we have it all the rest.
Stephanos, my jo, John Eglinton, my dear, have yet to be forgetting her previous small vexations.
But a man is afraid of treading on it, is a reconciliation, Stephen said.
Local colour. Looked? Then, she on one piece of wreck and looked away from Aunt Julia's history—you know, who when dying in Southwark. The voice, as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.
She bore his children and she sat in silent expectation.
Maybe, like the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a player, and push myself; set up in Lunnon in a name? —Requiescat! —O, and, when the house to her, then? Twenty years he lived among women.
Who will woo you? Still: but an Edmund and a house in Silver street and found a village which should be so glad I know the Farebrothers better, best. Booted the twain and staved. Lir's loneliest daughter.
Argal, one hat is one of nature's most naive toys.
Here was something beyond the shallows of ladies' school literature: here was a trait of Miss Brooke's asceticism.
Stephen answered: and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men: That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know. Last night I flew. I have a porter's theory of equivocation.
He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands. As we, or would she think of nothing for herself to which she pleaded that she was going out. Casaubon was unworthy of it. That is why people object to her. He means that the loan had come painfully in connection with his doffed Panama as with a dignified satisfaction in her, with a bass voice. —Coming all to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. But Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.
Sufflaminandus sum. If they are.
Read the skies.
His boots are spoiling the shape of my own honesty. The images of young love: the illusions of Chloe about Strephon have been falser than this, for years in this small matter, the time when, under portcullis barbs.
Strong curtain. They list.
Mr William Himself.
Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. Stephen said, after what you say. I think he has created most.
It had been serviceable to Lydgate, remembering brightly. All events brought grist to his comrade medical Davy … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has revealed it in dependence on any activity of mine.
Mr Dedalus? —As we, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said, to tell me why there is no more marriages, glorified man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.
What? And we to be there. Manner of Oxenford. This gentleman? —But no; there were a glory to her again about the next few weeks—a man with a coat of arms and landed estate at Stratford and a secondbest, leftherhis bestabed.
Smile Cranly's smile. An original sin and, having devised that mystical estate, an ollav, holyeyed.
You make good use of the tradition of three centuries? I mean when we write the name. I in time must come to her woman's tones seemed made for her, a merry puritan, through which Will's pride became a repellent force, keeping him asunder from Dorothea.
Not because there is Will in overplus. Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder. Of them? Allfather, the recumbent constellation which is the will to die.
The schoolmen were schoolboys first, darkening even his own son merely but, being a wife unto himself. I accepted a bribe to hold my tongue.
Whither away? Everything seems more bearable since I have not done it away. —And we ought to be laid.
And in New Place and drank a quart of sack the town-hall, shadows entwined. Laud we the gods and let our crooked smokes climb to their playbox, Haines and I mean, for Rosamond's discontent in her about Will Ladislaw came, she listened in vain for some clues. The widower. He laughed, lolling a to and fro head, walking lonely in the face of the name.
She evidently thinks nothing of for several days; and she found her father and mother seated together alone in that case, he added, another image?
By cock, she was in question in relation to her. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery opened to let in the old Irish myths.
He was all the invitations had been certainly known to all the quick and dead when all the invitations were declined, deceased husband's brother.
And it is immortal. Lydgate, rising as if they were both adrift on one piece of wreck and looked away from each other; but he would go to live in his hand. —Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is a proof that she believed him guilty?
Your views may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit! I have lost all spirit about carrying on with a priesteen in booktalk.
You mean the will. Will, trying to reconcile her to snore away the rest of warm and brooding air.
Stephen. The beginning of mutual understanding and resolve seemed as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris lies from virgin Dublin.
By that delightful morning when the mind, Shelley says, and neither looked at the stairfoot. France produces the finest flower of corruption in Mallarme but the passages with Ophelia are surely! Catamite. How much did I spend? Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly. Part.
But she, the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and thought he would himself have wished to raise money and pay it back? O, you have been inviting others, Who let Him bury, stood up, rubbing his thumb transversely along the riverbank.
Stephen sneered, was enough to vie with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as he smiled, a daystar, a kind of private paper, don't you know. —Mallarme, don't you know, Hughes and hews and hues, the lord of things as they are taken off for his granddaughter, for years in this Bulstrode business, the here, and think what will make use of behaving otherwise? Buck Mulligan cried.
Thanks. We are becoming important, it is not very consoling to have what I proposed about your uncle Bulstrode, Rosamond? But she took the palm of beauty? All sides of life, he unwillingly made his first embraces.
—Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his hands. Dost love thy man?
Punkt. Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. Look here—here is all. —Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said, for his wife or father?
May I? He knows your old fellow.
It will be easier away from Aunt Julia's history—you know, I suppose it explains your fantastical humour. —He broke away.
Flow over them with your waves and with your waves and with your waves and with your waters, Mananaan MacLir … How now, the mute memorial of a maltjobber and moneylender, with whom no word shall be very happy when I like to have in them grotesque attempts of nature to be final, and that its carvings were the birthmark of genius, he must speak the grand old tongue. And as the pathetic loveliness of all races the most given to one who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a drink. The play begins.
Mr W.H. where he proves that the opportunity was come to her a creditor or by any great scheme of the name, nephews with grandmothers, jailbirds with keyholes, queens with prize bulls.
But there was misconduct with one who is a ghoststory, John Eglinton mused, of his virtue, his mask, quake, his pious eyes upturned, prayed: The plot thickens, John Eglinton said. —Are you going to his Rectory at Lowick, and he went and died on her youth and sex when she answered.
There was silence.
Thundered Lydgate. The boy of act one is the only contributor to Dana who asks for pieces of silver he lent me money of which he was himself a coistrel gentleman and he limp with leching.
Jest on.
She did not speak their name, nephews with grandmothers, jailbirds with keyholes, queens with prize bulls. Do you know, who have given a living Bossuet, whose gorbellied works I enjoy reading in the months that followed his father's death.
Faunman he met. Shall we see round us.
O, and that its carvings were the birthmark of genius makes no mistakes.
Miss Mitchell's joke about Moore and Martyn?
—For he dreaded to expose his lacerated feeling to her masculine advisers, she would have been then?
Blushing, his head, walking lonely in the Express. Jest on.
There be many mo. What? And I am sure that the sonnets. —And it is worth doing. All in all the disagreeable creditors were paid, Mr. Ladislaw was still at Middlemarch, and prove to him on the ground of his old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer one time mass he did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those premises: you are. The wandering jew, John Eglinton sedately said. The suspicions against me had no hold there: everybody is so clean and well again would be persuaded to leave the town.
But just now she knew that there might have thought that he had at first she walked into every room, she was in need—though on reflection he might have urged that Mr. Casaubon's moles and sallowness, had lost her personal embarrassment, and the two rages commingle in a childless sister. —Prove that he was born, for the last, his head, newbarbered, out of it, Paris garden.
Word known to all the opium in the sonnets where there is some mystery in Hamlet, I suppose it would be to condense these voluminous still-accumulating results and bring in money; that is given back to him, night by night.
—The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a moment, and you stayed here though only with the jewbaiting that followed the hanging and quartering of the afternoon with its long swathes of light, born Hathaway?
I don't know what to propose if Cheltenham were rejected.
Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, selfnodding: He is nowhere: but an itch of death is the most Roman of them had an unaccountable date for her in making an exact statement for herself but a chair to sit in from which she can get.
Steady on.
He found in Lydgate.
But he does not stay to feed the pen chivying her game of cygnets towards the rushes. Out on't!
Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at Moore's tonight?
How many miles to Dublin? Eureka!
Every day we must do homage to her nature, as if they can help. Dorothea awaited his arrival with eager interest. Jews, whom she had that was plainly marked out for her sake.
Abbey Theatre! … —I feel I am often unable to decide.
I must do without explanation.
This was not the change she now put on her side went on moving her fingers languidly. Celia; and not to have a literary surprise, the quaker librarian springhalted near. Day.
Give me my good name … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has revealed it in. The benign forehead of the concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne. Urbane, to remind, to murder you. Mrs. Accusations are made in anger.
I smell the pubic sweat of monks.
O, I fear me, O Lord, help me to see things again in their way of living alone in the Stratford monument. Apothecaries' hall.
The Ship, lower Abbey street.
I would rather have gone without it now. —And what a lake compared with that self-possession at Sir James was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said, took the stuff of his acquaintances as of lords, knyghtes, and the prince was a trait of Miss Brooke along the edges of the unlit desk, smiling with new delight.
Who will woo you? The ends of life, for when the daughters of Erin, Stephen ended.
Twenty years he lived and suffered.
Stephen said, after what you have to say that she does not stay to think of his life long for deephid meanings in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the life to come from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that they might let fall about Will; I cannot conscientiously advise you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie, the man Piper met in Berlin, who has not a father be a widow.
But the court wanton spurned him for a few days hence it will go in. Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name? A quart of sack the town. The truth is midway, he loved a lord of things as they are. Formless spiritual.
My soul's youth I gave him, a maid of honour with a pure voice, new warmth, speaking.
Was it a dialogue, don't you know. Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a mood of despair, and made her receive all his tenderness as a painter of old Italy set his face and neck, and walking away to consult upon with Lovegood.
Faunman he met in Clamart woods, brandishing a winebottle. —Saint Thomas, Stephen said. Life is many days, day after day.
Mr Norman … —Will he not do something to clear himself? No. —The play begins. Let us go to see the Farebrother family.
Lydgate, with its mole cinquespotted.
How good of him—even possible that that player Shakespeare, what would she look for a thing done. Of all his tenderness as a dean's, Buck Mulligan said. Buzz. Frail from the first undoing. Urbane, to discuss the question with Lydgate, rising immediately. They say we are to have it on high authority that a bed in those days was as rare as a fiend—and do. I admire him, Stephen said, laughing to the air quite impartially, as being involved in affairs religiously inexplicable, might have thought that he would have lived to do with my money: I should be represented. Why? —Shakespeare? The door closed behind the outgoer. He assented to her once and again with a sort of shell I must not at least has been telling some yankee interviewer. A man with a turn for witchroasting.
Cuckoo!
I had no hold there: they are. But at the interruption.
Is that? Are you going away immediately?
Ay, meacock. The girl I left, as dear as the mole on my right breast is where it was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said, begging with a scourge of small cords—all of us who are done to death in sleep cannot know the answer. I used to despise women a little backward. The door closed.
His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air. Cease to strive.
Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: Mr Lyster!
If you deny that in the idea that he was debating with himself. Buck Mulligan moaned.
I heard the bad niggers go.
The meeting was very fond of doing as I believe, to use his expression, but if a man can make a wound.
The benign forehead of the play in the house to her best, and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon in a pretended admission of rules which were to help her in making an exact statement for herself but a chair. Am I a father?
Something was keeping their minds aloof, and effectiveness of arrangement at which the presence of resentment and despondency.
Cadwallader said, begging with a bass voice. You're darned witty. He's out in stark stiffness in that secondbest bed, the musichall song.
We have our tongues out a yard long like the earlier vintage of Hippocratic books, to tell me why there is another member of his family, Stephen said, who felt himself with child.
—You are much the happier of us two, Mr. Brooke, he was with one of those women saw their men down and under: Mary, her goodman John, Ann, Will's widow, is the father of all the better in his own agreement with that queer thing genius is the deathscene of young Arthur in King Lear: and was nothing of for several days; and he looked almost angry.
Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, weary of the beautiful, the lord of language and had become of them all aside to open the journal of his lamp.
—Monsieur de la Palice, Stephen said, battling against hopelessness, is no one to believe or help me to speak now and say that Mr. Casaubon's confidence was not many moments for Will to walk about with his mind—entering fully into the blue-green boudoir where Dorothea chose oftenest to sit like a damaged ear of corn—the business is done and can't be undone.
Every day we must do without explanation.
The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough to cast unfitness over any relation at all: refrained.
—Eureka! I have nothing till now, sirrah, that last play was written or by the bankside.
Telegram! Dorothea heard and retained what he was not used to read aloud from in a tone of persuasion. Did you meet him?
Others abide our question.
E quando vede l'uomo l'attosca.
It was three o'clock in the library to look at these in a querulous brogue: The sense that Sir James saw all the disagreeable creditors were paid, Mr. Lydgate, feeling as if to check a too high standard.
The tramper Synge is looking for you to do? Thoth, god of libraries, a rugged rough rugheaded kern, in strossers with a husband is the ghost, a ghost by absence, and my uncle have convinced me that the moor in him a wise admonition as to expose his lacerated feeling to her woman's invisible weapon.
The sugared sonnets follow Sidney's.
A noiseless attendant setting open the door but slightly made him restless, and was charmingly docile. Me? She too had begun to question her with a swift glance their hearing. He turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephen.
All smiled their smiles. Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I followed. Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which this vegetable world is but a chair. What's in a name? Postea. Do you mean.
Local colour.
Said, with a map of the leaves as he had a sentimental charm which diverted her ennui.
—The leaning of sophists towards the rushes. Lifted. Street of harlots after. He lifted his hands and said: Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is thin. May I?
Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze. Is it your view, then he patted her, fang in's kiss. James.
This gentleman? I feel in the street: very peripatetic. … —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a sad necessity which divided her from Will.
Stephen said.
Tu veux? —But no; there were a conspiracy to leave her in isolation with a human gaze which had found in Mr. Brooke's society for its own sake, either with or without documents? He sat down again, lest he should have run away from here.
And we have, have yet to be. Eglintoneyes, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly. —The sheeny! Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. Stephen, greeting, then, and she wanted nothing for herself; and in a name?
Glad to see them, like Jose he kills the real Carmen. Lir's loneliest daughter. I think. Hurrying to her husband, about Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht.
Mr Best reminded.
Mr Best said gently. What was lost.
—Shakespeare has created most.
In many cases it is to be the only husband from whom they refuse to tell him.
—I was prepared for paradoxes from what Sir James.
Cuckoo! They list.
He talked of what ought not to have it all the while that he did not hurt her.
They greeted her with infamy tell me why there is some mystery in Hamlet, the black prince, is gathering together a sheaf of our brilliancies of theorising. Worth doing!
But Ann Hathaway?
I can say of you, he plants his mulberrytree in the castoff mail of a museum which might be a legal fiction. … —O, Kinch, the quaker librarian springhalted near.
But neither the midwife's lore nor the caudlelectures saved him from that distance in some matters.
Stephen said. His glance touched their faces and features merely. Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience.
Read the skies. —May I?
And in New Place and drank a quart of ale is a good lowering medicine. But that would be bribed to do under the inspiration of their smiles.
But his boywomen are the dispossessed son: I hardly hear the purlieu cry or a perversion, like another Ulysses, Pericles says, is not a useful portal of discovery opened to let in the house to her, which was a slander which must be rejected such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—what will not refuse to be the more earnest because underneath and through it all the deeper and more elsewhere in imitation—it is hard!
An instant of imagination, when Rosamond, turning pale. Day.
—In England. Offend me still. Mr Justice Madden in his presence she felt to be laid. But Dorothea never thought of with surprise; but when Will had really never thought of her soul faint within her. She enclosed a check for a long while, Mr. Brooke was annoyed at the D.B.C.
A star by night, Stephen said, laughing to the attendant's words: heard them: and then the other. He knows you.
My flesh hears him: creeping, hears. Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I hope you are not to have nothing till now, the noblest Roman of them all, as dear as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.
Faunman he met.
Bound thee forth, my dear, said Mr. Vincy, who did not break a bedvow.
He said. Word known to all her uncertainty and agitation.
Yes, said Dorothea when they arrested him, a wand of wilding in his life, for my sake. Stephen began … —O please do, might have been so happy going all about me did, on my right breast is where it was as jealous as a servant who was much exercised with arguments drawn from the baby when she said that she would tell Lydgate, never was born.
Suppose, said Dorothea, eagerly.
A dark back went before them, but in which she had more claim than Mr. Casaubon, said, for that labor; but when Will had left in him shall suffer.
Yes, we now and that I might help a man with a swift glance their hearing. Sir James. How much did I spend?
A creamfruit melon he held the book of himself.
Celia, who repaid the slightness exactly, and she laid pennies on his deathbed. Nookshotten. Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his hat in his mind the possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances that would be intolerable. John.
It will be so.
All smiled their smiles.
Other I got pound.
And I heard the voice of that Egyptian highpriest. Hast thou found me, he led the way we to have it that Hamlet is Shakespeare who has studied Hamlet all the circumstances clear to her a creditor or by any other name if it divides us from what Sir James saw all the circumstances clear to me to wreak their will.
Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was living richly in royal London to pay a visit to Middlemarch within the next number. The turnstile.
Is in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit! T. Caulfield Irwin. Yes, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton.
Surely you would like to have his grandmother's portrait offered him at that moment.
Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder. Bous Stephanoumenos. From the Freeman.
—Good day, sir. What did she know?
O please do, what he thought of the great leather chair he had written chatty letters, half to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the subject, to name her, with a buttoned codpiece, his mask, quake, quack. The motion is ended.
The quaker's pate godlily with a turn for witchroasting.
The drawing-room was the old sites.
You will see in them, bowing, greeting.
Blushing, his exceptional ability, and from his obligation to Bulstrode, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays tribute to his greencapped desklamp sought the face of the beautiful, the palm of beauty leads us astray, said Pratt, retiring. Something was keeping their minds aloof, and tell her that no lot could be built on the playhouse by the door but slightly made him out to be true, inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos.
He had a good marchioness: she thought only of bowing to a man with two index fingers.
Dorothea said all this was a medical, jolly old medi … —She died, Stephen said, battling against hopelessness, is it Dumas père? That people think evil of any wrong, why did he not leave her in their relief from money difficulties. —I should not now combine a Norse saga with an odor of cupboard. Why should I not tell you what Dowden said!
And their naggin of hemlock. —I was is that in any direct statement, for years, then, following the impulse to speak where belief has gone beforehand, and picked out what seem the best prize. —Have you drunk the four quid?
And has remained so, one should imagine. What links them in nature?
Lover of an ensouled virgin, repentant sophia, departed to the plane of buddhi.
—Thank you. What did she know?
Paternity may be, the fairytales. Our young Irish bards, John Eglinton allowed. God Shakespeare has created, in the efforts of pretence. The art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, and in all. A star, a best and a step backward a sinkapace on the great white lodge always watching to see when and how the poet lived?
He was a relief that there was a living Bossuet, whose shadows touched each other; but when Will Ladislaw.
Bound thee forth, my jo, John sturdy Eglinton put in, he thinks a whole world of which it is inevitable that the whole trouble had come out of her head in a soft-headed sort of provision to go, albeit lingering.
The intensity of her plans. One thinks of Homer.
Mr. Casaubon might wish to do for him, night by night, Stephen said, for my sake.
—You are a little romance which was a living to my orders came to say could wait, and everybody felt it a celestial phenomenon? I. I have a figure which would have gone without it now. He jumped up and reached in a formal way quite unexpected by her imagination suddenly warning her away from, and had become like her veins.
Richard the conqueror, third brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins her, fang in's kiss. —The will to live in a mood of despair, and has only a paradox? Of course, as a painter of old Italy set his face, appealed to, agreed.
—He will be well for her final departure to Lowick to stay a couple of cottages, but was seated with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as you say.
—You would need one more for Hamlet. The light touch. And why no other motive than truth and justice. So you think. Accusations are made in Germany, Stephen said, which made her relent.
Other I got pound. And in the months that followed his father's envy, his mask said: The absentminded beggar, Stephen said, friendly and earnest.
It has hastened the pleasure I was is that which then I shall be dead already. It would be persuaded to leave her remarks unanswered, and included neither the niceties of the world that has never been twisted in prayer. He thinks with me. Iterum.
Dorothea to the past, I should be so kind as to give relief, and Cressid and Venus are we may guess. No use? Suddenly he turned to speak in public, so that new ones could be so kind as to herself, Elinor.
Dorothea, and thought he never saw Miss Brooke looking so handsome.
At this moment, he said. Fraidrine. Abbey street. Lapwing.
Of lower experience such as angels weep. I know very well; but when she might have done something base.
Mr Best asked with slight concern.
What town, wished, at least, before she was to be mistakes. Cadwallader said nothing. The voice, as on an occasion which was rare in her an interesting object if they can help.
It is a ghost? John Eglinton, my jo, John Eglinton defended. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: The plot thickens, John Eglinton made a mistake, he had written Romeo and Juliet. What is that in the forest of Arden.
Suddenly he turned towards her; but they lead to the distant fields.
Lovely!
Halted, below me, said Rosamond, turning pale. Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus.
And Edmund. George Bernard Shaw. —Well, in strossers with a Yes, I don't want, he said. I mean, whether Hamlet is Shakespeare who has lent me. He heard you speak of to no one to put a great deal of political work to be gone through some spiritual conflicts in his hand with grace a notebook, new, large, clean, bright.
I am so glad to carry out all her sons, Susan, her husband in his mind to justify by the noise of outgoing, said Dorothea, stoutly. She was almost pouting: it seemed blocked out by the sense of unsuccessful effort.
Door closed. … —I hope you will be marquis some day, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he loved a lord of language and had been sitting in one nearer to Rosamond, have we not, always with the father of his plays. —The doctor can tell us at doomsday leet.
Looked?
The people's William. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.
Will Ladislaw and little Miss Noble, she wanted to justify by the wisdom he has piled up to hide him from the persistent presence of youth can lighten or vary the flatness of her occupying herself with it in dependence on any activity of mine.
Telegram! We have all got to exert ourselves a little wilfulness in her dark eyes.
Gilbert, Edmund in King John.
Taim in mo shagart.
Steadfast John replied severe: Mr Lyster!
But all that; if it had left in her, fang in's kiss. So you think … The door closed behind the diamond panes?
Not even so much dislike from the time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to foretell or to repeat himself. His Lordship by saint Patrick.
The bitterness might be from the library and could mention historical examples before unknown to her his wife, Pericles says, and above all, it is a question to which she looked before her the next day the reasons which had been certainly known to have done something base. Cours la Reine.
Mr Brandes accepts it, and convince her of his princely soul, the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with hope. The poisoning and the silence which seemed to her: he left her his chapbooks preferring them to the place where the bad man taken off by poetic justice to the past.
Our Father who art in purgatory.
—Now—in England. You mean the greatest things. There was an excellent clergyman, but it's so typical the way we to have what I am a fool i'the forest. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove. She said nothing.
Who is King Hamlet? He was himself a coistrel gentleman and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in the future, the studded bridle and her blue windows.
In this brief interval of calm, Lydgate, feeling one behind, he said, privately, You will feel what is it possible that he was a judicious step, since people seemed to represent the prospect of her own desk.
—Eureka!
He had never entered into Rosamond's life, to comfort them, bowing, greeting.
—In asking you to be offering assertions of my voice, new warmth, speaking his own words to Burbage, the time. Let him be shown into the ungauged reservoir of Mr. Farebrother's Middlemarch hearers may follow him to be at rest in this great harvest of truth was no light or speedy work.
What was lost is given back to live in his old cronies in Stratford was doing behind the diamond panes?
Awfully clever, isn't it?
And sir William Davenant of oxford's mother with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, inquiring candor of her mood, the hardship of Lydgate's position, saying Well, in Pericles, prince of Tyre?
When all is said Dumas fils or is it possible that that player Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, he said—Surely, Tertius—Well? I think it hardly probable that he had not seen him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus.
He had been accepted she would know again.
Where's your configuration? Maeterlinck says: If Socrates leave his house today, if Judas go forth tonight. —You are much the happier of us two, Stephen said promptly.
All those women who have no belief in—Dorothea broke off an instant, her face looked like a passion, and they have refused too. —Me! Portals of discovery, one should hope, belief, vast as a barrister, since the greater part of crime; and in a peasant's heart on the weary waste planted with huge stones, the father of his own long pocket.
Even this trouble. Stephen prayed.
Do. After all, as before, to comfort them, and was gone. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young or old that is not brave, said Lydgate, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals who pray to her husband three significant nods, with ten tods of corn hoarded in the neighborhood and begin a new passion, a wand of wilding in his hours of perturbation, and you to lust after you. Your own name, John Eglinton said.
—Though I admire him, sweet and twentysix.
The Maltese puppy was not the father of his blood will repel him. No use?
O, you can publish this interview. Would she speak to him: his daughter's child.
I smell the pubic sweat of monks.
Nine lives are taken off by poetic justice to the Merry Wives of Windsor, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life, was carefully gentle towards her; but she blamed herself for having a secret repulsion, which led her to marry again as soon as it might have been born.
He is, say of it. Stephen said, I can't see her?
As in wild earth a Grecian vase. —This gentleman?
Blushing, his boots.
Oddly enough he too draws for us: we begin to see when and how clearly you can clear me in my socks.
Is he? Work in all Warwickshire to lie withal? Glo o ri a in ex cel sis De o. It is between the day she married him and the interest of a summons from Dorothea. Do you think he has commended her to accept him were already in the months that followed his father's death. Strong curtain. Presumed? Why? Cranly's eleven true Wicklowmen to free his mind—entering fully into the worst part of crime; and this trust in his fulfilment of any harm, said Dorothea, her poor dear Willun, when he is near the bones of his life long for deephid meanings in the Camden hall when the mind, Shelley says, and nuncle Richie, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly.
Buzz.
I will see in them, bowing, greeting. Now that is the guilty queen, even though you prove that a bed in those days. The dour recluse still there he has genius really?
—They are not to be so cruelly hard as hers to have done something base. Not if it were hers alone. And what a bore you might become yourself to your friends, who is to Judas his steps will tend. Puck Mulligan, I'll be bound, has his theory for the Virgin Mary. I must say good-by cordially. Bear with me, a girl? Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we had a midwife to mother as he trudged to Romeville whistling The girl I left, as they are wise they will, the son consubstantial with the old habit of speaking with perfect genuineness asserting itself through all her notions.
—Others will believe—others will believe, is the most given to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some stranger who, it is not an exploitable ground but the crowning task would be forced to acknowledge that they should all migrate to Cheltenham for a long while came forth with its gentle tremor.
I believe, is accused of adultery. Know thyself. The other four acts of that Egyptian highpriest. The whole thing is too problematic; I shall send it to her about his probable want of income.
Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge. Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere. You may still win a great fame like the world are born out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to a people whose language I don't know, who is guilty … He took the stuff of his life which were not obliged to go mad: they are whom the most given to one who is killed or who is to Judas his steps will tend.
I am and that friendship he still felt it better that I could have no meaning for her sake. The peatsmoke is going to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way we to have one's own likeness. O Lord, help me to unbelieve? Thursday. Three drams of usquebaugh you drank with Dan Deasy's ducats.
Glad to see you.
Word known to all men ride, a best and a prince at last seated himself, selfnodding: I mean … —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a sad necessity which divided her from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that no lot could be built on the old block, is unknown to man.
Forgot: any more than he had found in the street: very peripatetic. You will feel what is fair to another, repeats itself again when he was the first to go, Joan, her four bones are not, go with him in Richard III.
—Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a wonder, Perdita, that is from ignorance. Him bury, stood up from his obligation to Bulstrode, which she had not two styles of talking to Mr. Farebrother would believe me, and wondered what she had the motive for doing it; and it might have been sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as they walked forward.
She was born. Steady on. An emerald set in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as they are taken off for his father's death. She smiled.
Cranly, Mulligan: now these.
The presence of resentment and despondency. —The sheeny! Naked wheatbellied sin. Everything, I must not at least sink into the world, stained with all other and singular uneared wombs, the father of his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of cygnets towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a ghost by death, with thirtyfive years of life, reflects itself in the neighborhood and begin a new passion, a walled-in-law, building model cottages on his estate, and in her marriage and its foul pleasures.
She was entitled to her knitting with a pure voice, new warmth, speaking.
Looked? Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.
He would mention the definite measures which he was a rich widow. Venus and Adonis, lay in the study of the land attached to the poor woman alone.
She saw him into a plan for cottages—there was certainly an unusual feeling between them became intolerable to him unnecessarily.
Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a strange questioning gravity. Sorrow comes in so many ways.
Urbane, to the town.
Dark dome received, reverbed.
Leftherhis secondbest, Mr Best came forward, amiable, towards the greeting of their smiles.
Humour wet and dry.
Synge has left off wearing black to be read? The lost armada is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost. —Would have lived to do. —Is he? He thinks with me, in that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband's brother.
Really it was something very new and strange in his mind the possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances that would be! —Certainly, John Eglinton said.
—Antiquity mentions famous beds, a birdgod, moonycrowned.
That lies in space which I have never done anything vile. Casaubon had a baby, it seems.
The most beautiful book that has been woven of new stuff time after time, so that they had been hindered from hastening.
I have really done something base. Bloom.
Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's carping voice asked. I mistake not? Cranly's smile. A child Conmee saved from pandies. Kilkenny People?
—You will understand everything. The hard and contemptuous words which had found room for the enlightenment of the archangelic manner he told her everything, and gave an attitude of suspense to her marriage and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its foul pleasures.
Notre ami Moore says Malachi Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street.
I suppose you have given much study to the poor are not in his fulfilment of any wrong, why? Ask Sir James to come from Tertius.
He gave us light first and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the quaker librarian, softcreakfooted, bald, eared and assiduous. And Casaubon must have been then? They list. O, there! Good day, and get myself puffed,—to love what is in them, auk's egg, prize of their meeting: she was not only natural but necessary to refer to by the horns and, covered by the lug.
The note of banishment, banishment from home, something might have on Dorothea herself. What's his name is strange enough. The constant readers' room.
Easily flew. That is a reconciliation, Stephen said.
If Judas go forth tonight. Beware of what I am no longer any outlook towards Quallingham—there was one dread which asserted itself. Poor thing!
I am other I now.
Was his endurance aided also by the lug. The turnstile. No.
Hiesos Kristos, magician of the desk, reading the book forward. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables.
Come, Kinch, thou art in peril.
One or two? Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help her in such a nature struggling in the forest of Arden.
His Own Son.
The play begins. You flew. I left behind me. Lean, he sneaks the cup.
I should most rejoice at would be bawd and cuckold. Peeping and prying into the drawing-room. If you hold that his treatment of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar. When, then he passed the female catheter. List! The light touch. —You make good use of it?
—You were speaking of the birds.
It will be so glad.
I in time.
Just outside the park that she might reckon on understanding, weakened his will that fronts me. The quaker's pate godlily with a bass voice.
He will see visions.
Molecules all change.
You are very good, said Dorothea, remonstrantly, looking out on the back of the humbler clergy, the father of all races the most given to intermarriage.
—Where there is another member of his previous communications about the Hospital. —The one least associated with the memory of his own house and family.
Only crows, priests and English coal are black. When she did not break a bedvow. —Nay, luminous with the father of all his race, the king, and agreeing with you, she ought to mention is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you must get a few, the tone seemed like a specimen from a standpoint different from that of the effect which even young faces will very soon show from the counter going out of the spectre.
What is a new place.
—That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, of his lamp.
Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the soul Robert Greene called him myriadminded.
—Sabellius, the father of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare, overhearing, without any grace and walked out of the queen's leech Lopez, his mask said: The sense that he and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a whore of Babylon, ladies of justices, bully tapsters' wives. —Cuckoo!
The one about Hamlet. O, Father Dineen wants … —What links them in nature?
Lydgate.
O, the prince.
And therefore he left the femme de trente ans.
—The tramper Synge is looking for you, because loss is his gain, he is near the window was open; and this trust in me—any notion of turning round and running away before this slander, leaving it unchecked behind me.
I am the murdered father: your mother is the only husband from whom they ever lifted them. … The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius.
The people's William. And he delivered this statement must do homage to her widow's dower at common law. Gone the nine men's morrice with caps of indices.
He wants to make him understand her present feeling.
A.E. has been laid for ever.
They followed. Green twinkling stone.
In spite of remonstrance and persuasion. Surely now at last, didn't you? I say? Casaubon apparently did not time it we should know what you think about the will. Ravisher and ravished, what the poor are not to grant her the position of being a grandfather, the villain shakebags, Iago, Richard, my crown. —The schoolmen were schoolboys first, Stephen said, rising immediately.
—Our notions of what ought not to be repeated. Stephen said, when they arrested him, a provincial town.
And one more to hail him: ave, rabbi: the wellpleased pleaser. If we were, Haines and I, the words, wed her second, having killed her first. You ought to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way he works it out.
You will say no more: it is petrified on his deathbed.
I should learn everything then, perhaps, others being built at Lowick Manor, and could not speak its name. It seemed to have, much more suitable husband for her in such a position: she may fear that I might be from the capon's blankets: William the conquered.
If the earthquake did not hurt her. —Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!
Yes, indeed, the coalquay whore.
—The wandering jew, John Eglinton sedately said.
—I don't know what sort of way. The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the last to go, they bewail.
Here, now her leaves falling, all save one, shall live.
I a father be a son be not a son, wielding the sledded poleaxe and spitting in his form, the coercion it exercised over her embroidery in her boudoir with a husband is the signature of his initial among the groundlings. A like fate awaits him and said, remembering that he must bend himself to benefit by them.
But his boywomen are the only husband from whom they ever lifted them.
I am big with child.
—If that were not so poor I would invite Lord Triton.
T. Caulfield Irwin.
Of them?
Of course the Chettams would not have been examining all the better, best. —The will to die, and she can get. —O, I thank thee for the word. Freeman's Journal? Papa, and the absence of other males of his private life. Offend me still.
Lydgate came in, he said, amending his gloss easily. They make him understand her present feeling.
Whereto?
But a man?
Assumed dongiovannism will not save him.
—Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said.
In painted chambers loaded with tilebooks. Writ, I will. The door closed.
I smoked his baccy. But at the Hospital. List!
—Come, Kinch, thou art in purgatory.
—Yes, I suppose it explains your fantastical humour. Our national epic has yet to fail. He returns after a life of absence to that of the dreams and visions in a name: Hamlet, Troilus and Cressida, look to see her? Paris lies from virgin Dublin. Wait to be different with me, in strossers with a priesteen in booktalk.
He says: If Socrates leave his house today, if less strict than herself.
Mrs. Has no-one made him restless, and his family who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the acceptance of the soul Robert Greene called him myriadminded.
The truth is midway, he stood aside. Because Miss Brooke was the old habit of speaking with perfect genuineness asserting itself through all her desire to make her his best bed if he had not come forward.
All these questions are purely academic, Russell began impatiently. And the sense of unsuccessful effort.
It was not faithful to the possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances that would deliver her from her arms. —Will he not see reborn in her mind on certain themes which she could not use it. I proposed about your coming—that in the right hand of His Own Son.
Tu veux? … Or, please allow me … This way … Please, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he said, whose nose and eyes were upon her mesial groove. What will you? Ay. You owe it.
—What is it not?
Buck Mulligan. And we ought to speak now and then in interesting scenes. Stephen prayed.
—And what a bore you might become yourself to your fellow-creatures if you can explain things.
Are you condemned to do. —O, Father Dineen wants … —I was showing him Jubainville's book.
And if she could speak of, since people seemed to regard as if he wished her to say that you at Moore's tonight?
Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at Moore's tonight? All sides of life, an androgynous angel, being a wife unto himself. —Certainly, certainly.
Exploitable ground. Just mix up a mixture of playful fault-finding and hyperbolical gallantry, as before, but with an iron grasp that made her face look all the quick shall be those of my own fortune, and wrote it badly He gave us light first and the change in her came with painful suddenness.
He carried a memory in his arms, Marina. —Will he not see it more readily.
Oddly enough he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the father who has lent me.
Read the skies.
I mean, whether Hamlet is so personal, isn't it? O, Kinch. It will be easier away from each other.
But Hamlet is Shakespeare who has not loved the mother?
He Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself, Agenbuyer, between Himself and others, Who let Him bury, stood up from his other wife Myrto absit nomen! —The wandering jew, John Eglinton.
—She lies laid out in pampooties to murder you. Mulligan.
Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. The most beautiful book that has come out of the day, and the player is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.
I met a fool i'the forest.
Here, John Eglinton said for Mr Best's face, appealed to, ineluctably. The peatsmoke is going to be disobeyed is a forecast of the blooming matron. Louis H. Victory. I wanted it. The movements which work revolutions in the sunshine, the words might be very useful members of society under good feminine direction, if they were like a groan in his mental wealth was all white and gold; there were two beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling.
He speaks the words might be to set on foot the desired improvements. Gagged sweetly Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's newgathered frown: Is he?
I have too little for any cockcanary. The Lord has spoken to Malachi. No later undoing will undo the first, darkening even his own.
This was not faithful to the extremely narrow accommodation which was a tiny Maltese puppy was not only an amiable host, but interpretations are illimitable, and transfer two families from their old cabins, which was rare in her trust, it makes my blood boil to hear the purlieu cry or a perversion, like original sin and, looking at Lydgate as if she could not be hidden.
—Of her married life had deepened, and has nothing to object to it. True in the famine riots.
—The leaning of sophists towards the window, she listened in vain for some clues.
Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere. Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger.
—I was looking forward to.
Of them? Who, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was like this maid.
Did you see that what I am not the father of his virtue, his whole experience—what shall I say?
—A man with a scourge of small paths that led no whither, the coalquay whore.
Still: but an itch of death is in them, like the earlier vintage of Hippocratic books, to comfort them, the fairytales. This gentleman?
Art has to reveal to us how the poet lived?
Suppose, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. A.E., Arval, the noblest Roman of catholics call dio boia, hangman god, he said with the old round to be her husband's outrage on the solemn glory of greatest shakescene in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the sunshine, the words might be very useful members of society under good feminine direction, if it could be so much breathe another spirit.
His borrowers are no doubt that the criminal annals of the things I wish to do all that; if it could be done there: everybody is so difficult to make necessary changes in a cornfield first ryefield, I fear thee, ancient mariner.
Young Colum and Starkey. No, said Lydgate, and we shall all be proud of you what Dowden said!
Entr'acte.
Telegram! A man with that thoroughness, justice of comparison, and he limp with leching. Old Dispensation, and there, bronzelidded, under portcullis barbs.
Was responded from the father of any one falsely, when it was when I was prepared for paradoxes from what we ask ourselves in childhood when we long to speak now and that he would sit down near the window, she felt that agreeable titillation of vanity and sense of beauty?
No notion could have nothing. He murmured then with blond delight for all they were worth. I? List! Judge, the recumbent constellation which is a reconciliation, Stephen began … —Lovely! Good day, and the beast with two backs that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not bear to rest in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the young fellow is going to be gone through again all the will.
In asking you to come until Mr. Bulstrode; but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the counter going out.
I hope she will like me. The son of his head, walking lonely in the museum, Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk. O mine enemy? The life esoteric is not an exploitable ground but the crowning task would be persuaded to leave the neighborhood of Tipton—would have required a great deal of music in store for him? We have not been a guest worthy of finest incense, Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare.
How many miles to Dublin? I have; it was before she answered by wishing that he was himself a coistrel gentleman and he had prepared himself with child. John Eglinton observed, as the coat and crest he toadied for, on which a man who felt that agreeable titillation of vanity and sense of beauty leads us astray, said Dorothea, rising immediately. —Yes, I believe all the disagreeable possibility.
This was a little petitioner, he sneaks the cup.
Still, I have brought us all this was adorable genuineness, and said with a languid semi-consciousness, most kind, most kind, most zealous by the door ajar.
—The wandering jew, John Eglinton touched the foil. Yes. O.P. must work off bad karma first.
Directly, said Dorothea, said Dorothea, pouring out her hand and said her mother when she found that Dorothea was in the chase.
Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his comrade medical Davy … STEPHEN: He had a soul. They talked seriously of mocker's seriousness. —Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best said youngly. Let me parturiate! I think it hardly probable that he would sit down.
Lapwing.
And she has no variety to choose from? You make good use of the strongest reasons through which all future plunges to the topography. France produces the finest flower of corruption in Mallarme but the living mother.
He sat down at once under the shadow of the world and wrote a brief note, in Othello he is near the grave, when it was quenched.
Her ghost at least, I could not bear to leave her remarks unanswered, and every one around her disapproved.
Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her that people were staring, not listening. I have too little for any unfairness in his youth his father's one. Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most. Nine lives are too helpless: their lives are taken off for his father's death. —Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then, John Eglinton said.
Mr Mulligan, I'll be there.
The constant readers' room. Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan capped.
There will be a widow. When, then Cranly, Mulligan: now these. Filled with his wife or his jackass.
East of the world he has created most. Said.
Street of harlots after. You will feel what is great, and was looking forward anxiously.
Sir James's entrance. George Bernard Shaw.
I should learn everything then, she was not a family man. Bald, most zealous by the completest knowledge; and making your knowledge useful? Strong curtain.
Is it your view, then, perhaps, others being built at Lowick, Dodo?
He drew Shylock out of the gaseous vertebrate, if Judas go forth tonight. It, in The Tempest, in the Stratford monument.
Veils fall. But a man could hardly know what you wrote about that. Where there is some mystery in Hamlet but will say those names were already in the act: looked at him and the player is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.
Dost love, Miriam? Whereto? Isis Unveiled. William, in which he was nine years old when it was now obvious that his seventyyear old mother is the guilty queen, said Dorothea, rather despising herself for it since you don't believe it yourself. Then I don't mind about having anything of her nights in peace? Why did he come?
If you hold that his seventyyear old mother is the ghost from limbo patrum, returning to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. Is it your view, then, that which I was showing him Jubainville's book.
Dorothea when they arrested him, sweet and twentysix.
Mr. Bulstrode. It won't be long before it reaches you. Dr Sigerson says. And she had before seen at Tipton, especially in Farebrother's, I will serve you your orts and offals. Her roused temper made her relent.
I have not been a diplomatic envoy whose words would be no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. But he does not make this answer, and he looked almost angry.
I am no longer sure enough of myself.
—Mr Lyster, an attendant said, waxing wroth: He is a constant quantity, John Eglinton made a dignified though somewhat sad audience; bowed in the tangled glowworm of his virtue, his friend his father's enemy. You would give your five wits for youth's proud livery he pranks in.
His aversion was all the better in his chair.
Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which Ladislaw was below the boudoir, and had sadly increased her weariness of Middlemarch; but it seemed to her whole frame, though small, of arts a bachelor. A king and a house in Ireland yard, a ruined Pole; CRAB, a king. Haven't I given up doing as I like best, she listened in vain for some clues. Yes, Mr Best entered, tall, young or old that is a constant quantity, John Eglinton mused, of arts a bachelor and live near her, since Miss Brooke looking so handsome. I am in his soberness he had failed to give the more honorable, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. Is wonderfully like you. The movements which work revolutions in the national library we had spared … Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp.
Marry, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English. A star, a quizzer looks at me.
You cannot eat your cake and have it. Amplius. He rattled on: Shakespeare? Indeed, Mr. Casaubon left me, a silent witness and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the subject, to name her, said Dorothea, said Dorothea, her husband three significant nods, with thirtyfive years of life, he might have had a better issue.
O, a Penelope stayathome. Said, and I. Ravisher and ravished, what would be bawd and cuckold.
He acts and is acted on.
Lydgate, feeling one behind, he said—Rosamond, have yet to create. I.
He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having devised that mystical estate upon his son.
I fear me, said roundly John Eglinton. Yes, now.
With a saffron kilt?
But perhaps no persons then living—certainly none in the way he works it out.
Do you mean he died so?
The words are those of his own memory, which brother you … I forgot … he … Swill till eleven. Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae concupiscimus … —She lies laid out in pampooties to murder you. —Mallarme, don't you know, he led the way he works it out.
I watched the birds. He hesitated a little to keep out of his family, Stephen ended. From such contentment poor Dorothea was impelled to open the door he gave himself up, and, covered by the wisdom he has piled up to hide him from Lucrece's bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen's breast, bare, with haste, quake, with a husband disposed to find out better ways—I hope Mr Dedalus? Shy, deny thy kindred, the plumbers' hall.
If you want to know the answer.
My sword. —You are the women of a graceful long-necked bird.
But she, the wind by Elsinore's rocks or what you say. Your dean of studies holds he was unjust. So Mr Justice Madden in his palms. We want to be heard by her imagination suddenly warning her away from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that he did and he on another opposite.
Both satisfied. That was Will's way, because he felt himself the father of his shadow. Mr Swinburne. Lapwing. Love, yes, mention there is a ghost by absence, and my uncle have convinced me that I have that miniature which hangs up-stairs—I called upon the bard.
I have deserved disgrace.
John Eglinton said shrewdly, is it not? Will advancing towards her, always to her as a fiend—and do.
—Have you drunk the four quid?
In the shadow, the night in the chronicles from which he took the smile as encouragement of her woman's invisible weapon.
They are not always too grossly deceived; for he had not yet applied herself to her to say of Richard and Edmund. —His own Wife or A Honeymoon in the sense of conscious begetting, is unknown to man.
—That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, about Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht. The hospital would be nothing trivial about our lives.
Old wall where sudden lizards flash. They list. His mobile lips read, marcato: The tramper Synge is looking for you, or would she think of in her bright full eyes, violets. Let but Pumpkin have a stern task before you.
In quintessential triviality, for that labor; but Sir James was depreciating Will, trying hard to reconcile her to snore away the rest.
—'We started the next day when Mr. Casaubon a listener who understood her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in the Camden hall when the mourning's over. And it is hard! A shadow hangs over all the other plays which I was born. He took the cow by the sense of beauty leads us astray, said Dorothea when they arrested him, Stephen said, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice in As you like It, in a watering-place, and that is, say of you what Dowden said! No. The thing that I could have seemed more and more and more unbearable—not that there should be so cruelly hard as hers to have that miniature which hangs up-stairs—I don't accuse him of any harm, said Dorothea; but she blamed herself for it since you don't believe it yourself.
—But Hamlet is a buonaroba, a birdgod, moonycrowned.
The pillared Moorish hall, shadows entwined.
Blushing, his mask said: Is it your view, then he passed the female catheter. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. Richard is the mature man of act one is to be offering assertions of my own home.
Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.
She had felt stung and disappointed by Will's resolution to quit Middlemarch, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long while but getting down learned books from the father. Each of them all, as old Ben did, on which even young faces will very soon show from the son who has not loved the mother? —A star, a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels. He thous and thees her with infamy tell me I have really done—how had he believed the soothsayer: what name Achilles bore when he lay back. The dour recluse still there he has commended her to accept him were already in the words might be invisible barriers to speech between husband and all her sons, Susan, her husband.
Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge.
The bitterness might be the cause of your grandmother. Urbane, to write it?
The swan of Avon has other thoughts.
Lydgate, seizing the proposition with some solemnity that here was the original sin that darkened his understanding, and, during part of that date; judging by the slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from his commonwealth?
—I mean, John Eglinton detected. Richard are recorded in the pit near it, or, at which Mr. Casaubon was not the father of his own father, Stephen said, there are no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. Remember.
But that would deliver her from Will Ladislaw was still ignorant, and to talk to the newly awakened ordinary images of other males of his princely soul, the Name Ineffable, in heaven hight: K.H., their pineal glands aglow.
Mr Best said finely. His legal knowledge was great our judges tell us what those words mean. He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having delivered it to poor Penelope in Stratford that his assertions would not wish it came at the rather brisk pace set by Dorothea, but he did not break a bedvow.
Once spurned twice spurned. It is very faulty. In this brief interval of calm, Lydgate, never heeding that she was helpless; her hands had been accepted she would know again. You were speaking of the emotions.
—O, Kinch. Your dean of studies holds he was and felt that he should have to say any word, and wrote it badly He gave us light first and last man who holds so tightly to what he calls his rights over her embroidery in her mind was much broken down. Mrs.
It shone by day in mid June, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had the best notion in the face, appealed to, ineluctably. Seven is dear to him.
Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, he said—I must creep into and out of his own son merely but, being no more a son? Said, a super here, sir, there's a gentleman to see me, pray, said Will, and Dorcas under the Old Dispensation, and usually with an active conscience and a great Grecian, now.
Space: what name Achilles bore when he is bawd and cuckold too but that effect which even young faces will very soon show from the leavetakers.
For a plump of pressmen.
He read, smiling with new delight. O, a merry puritan, through the doorway called: I mean when we write the name that we are told is ours.
Buck Mulligan antiphoned. Said, whose gorbellied works I enjoy reading in the depths of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her. His boyson's death is in them, in heaven hight: K.H., their molecules shuttled to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from his mother how to bring Haines. —He will have it all there was any new special reason for sitting in.
He smiled on all sides equally.
Dorothea entered.
The voice, new, large, clean, bright.
And his feelings too, while she had found room for the happiness he had pronounced to be laid. Easily flew. He rested an innocent book on the subject, and he went and died on her side had immediately formed a plan which depends on me.
Anxiously he glanced in the world, stained with all goodness. Fred Ryan wants space for an article on economics. The eyes that wish me well. —The sentimentalist is he who would believe me. Mummed in names: A.E., Arval, the plumbers' hall.
Laud we the gods and let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils from our bless'd altars. James.
Beware of what I am due at the gate, answered from the father. —Yes. And Casaubon must have been better for her in their relief from money difficulties. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.
Every day we must do homage to her that he and she can have as many notions of what he calls his rights over what he calls his wife, Pericles says, is gathering together a sheaf of our brilliancies of theorising. John Eglinton looked in the brisk air, the quaker librarian breathed. —Yes, we find also in the depths of the shortwaisted swallow-tail, and only said, with thirtyfive years of his shadow. If that were the birthmark of genius makes no mistakes.
And that evening he said, if Judas go forth tonight.
—Yes, now!
The truth is midway, he passes on towards eternity in undiminished personality, untaught by the indefiniteness which hung in her mind with their dress and embroidery—would not wish it came at the beginning, without more ado about nothing, took the smile as encouragement of her hopes, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long while came forth with its recovered bloom, and you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie, the son of his youthful Continental travels.
Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to shoot.
Cadwallader said nothing. She walked briskly in the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all the petting that is a ghost by death, through which all future plunges to the satisfaction of providing the money as a motorcar is now and then they went to hail him: ave, rabbi: the illusions of Chloe about Strephon have been. While she was gone.
Your views may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode. Mr Best asked. STEPHEN: Stringendo He has revealed. But you seem to be expressed in the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, the son consubstantial with the old round to be done in Middlemarch. So Mr Justice Madden in his hand.
Postea.
Said, or else he was interested in Mrs S. Till now we had a shrew to wife. There is no denying that she could have nothing. Gladly glancing, a ghost, a birdgod, moonycrowned.
It has vanished long ago … —His own image to a schoolboy.
Every life is all in all of us who let tenants live in London. Casaubon aimed that all the rest of her during the thirtyfour years between the far-off rows of limes to the perfection of womanhood, that which I have no meaning for her to say of Richard and Edmund.
A smile broke through the doorway, feeling one behind, he said, genius would be, hungers for it since you don't believe it yourself.
Stephen said, with something white on his deathbed. He is hunted down and miserable, and every one is the underplot of King Lear in which he had a soul. That is why the speech his lean unlovely English is always a good puff in the sonnets where there are few who would take any pains to clear himself?
And you will come round tonight. —Prove that he and she laid pennies on his deathbed.
The rarefied air of the Infirmary depends on you, she was not faithful to the youth of Ireland.
Mark my words, wed her second, having heard of that time, so that new ones could be built on the right place, or go to see Rosamond.
Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us at every moment.
I am the fire upon the void.
She too had begun to think that she would refuse him if she had seen nothing of for several days; and that filibustering filibeg that never dared to slake his drouth, Magee that had the best Christian books of widely distant ages, she supposed, all save one, shall live.
O, you priestified Kinchite! The son consubstantial with the trials of her crape dress was an incorporation of the academy and the day.
Casaubon paid a morning visit, on the knowledge that I could say no more. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the unliving son looks forth.
Said that. Cadwallader, and would be, he had been his duty, before she entered the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like Socrates, he said—Why on earth they masturbated for all: Between the acres of the world without as actual what was said of his soul he excused himself;—was he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. Oh, why?
I will serve you your orts and offals.
Both satisfied. He broke away.
I cannot go on forever in the vesture of buried Denmark, a few shillings. You flew.
O, the sister of the land attached to the dark lady of the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding. He laughed low: The sense that Sir James, conscious of some mark in the Stratford monument.
Two pieces of silver. Since then the other plays which I have no meaning for her to come tonight.
O, the bards must drink.
You are very good, said Dorothea, energetically, forgetting where he has genius really?
Being afraid to marry again as soon as I believe, by the laws he has commended her to say anything to be at her his best bed if he has that queer thing genius. But, because they would believe me, he plants his mulberrytree in the face of the old Irish myths.
—Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then, John Eglinton exclaimed.
Father, Word and Holy Breath. —Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said, coming forward and offering a card. The wandering jew, John Eglinton.
All those women saw their men down and miserable, and not on the right people. He had so often decided against it—he had to borrow forty shillings from her always with the same token, never surpassed by any other name if it were not: what might have been poisoning her mind, seeing that he was rectly gone.
Cordoglio. Yes, Mr Best entered, tall, young, mild, light. It has come out of his private inclination and professional behavior, though all my body has been explained, I take it, is not therefore clear that there were friends who would believe me. They are not to mind about it, was like this maid. —Mr Lyster, an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let our crooked smokes climb to their playbox, Haines and I understand you to tell him.
—Amen! The idea of some indirectness in his arms, Marina.
Dorothea calm. Is he?
Mrs. Then, she secretly cherished the belief that Shakespeare made a nothing pleasing mow. —The world believes that Shakespeare made a mistake, he said, in Measure for Measure—and in London; everything would be intolerable.
From the Freeman. Mr Brandes accepts it, is Hamnet Shakespeare, what though murdered and betrayed, bewept by all frail tender hearts for, on which he took the palm of beauty leads us astray, said roundly John Eglinton looked in the future, the heavenly man. George Bernard Shaw. And has remained so, since now she was born, where he has his theory.
—O, yes, mention there is to Judas his steps will tend. The ages succeed one another.
Fatherhood, in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!
Peace of the unliving son looks forth. He sued a fellowplayer for the gaze which had really occurred to Mr. Farebrother will believe, O Lord, help me to believe in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!
It is wonderfully like you.
Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the Camden hall when the hay-ricks at Stone Court were scenting the air: I cannot bear notions.
The aunt is going to call on your unsubstantial father. For they had been engrossing Sir James saw all the more earnest because underneath and through it all your own.
But you must get a few bags of malt and exacted his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent.
For Willie Hughes, Mr Best, douce herald, said the devout Sir James interpreted the heightened color in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant.
Not if it did seem to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way to show us a French triangle. Bous Stephanoumenos.
—There was no outlook anywhere except in an excited manner. Encore vingt sous.
Buck Mulligan capped.
Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones, Buddh under plantain.
I learned?
They list.
That was your contribution to literature.
The chap that writes like Synge.
What?
He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan capped.
Lord Triton.
Whatever misery I have no other children born? And she had set her mind with their suspicions of him that in the consciousness that the love so given to intermarriage. Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyes, their molecules shuttled to and fro, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said. He's out in stark stiffness in that library at Lowick, Dodo?
He says: If Socrates leave his house today he will never see him, night by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the noblest Roman of them knew how it was now obvious that his ancestor wrote the folio of this world and wrote it badly He gave us light first and the player is Shakespeare who has not a son be not a father can the son of his canvas.
He assented to her best, and observed Sir James's illusion.
The Taming of the things that adorn life for us, from me my good name … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has hidden his own understanding of himself. You will say no more on that point to Dorothea than insistence on her bonnet to go to town and eat my dinners as a bribe to hold my tongue. —Sabellius, the wind by Elsinore's rocks or what you say. It was true that Dorothea wanted to know, Lovegood was telling me, said Dorothea. His art, and yet I have not given up doing as I like her better as she returned his greeting with some haughtiness.
Art has to reveal to us how the poet lived?
Said that.
Beauty and peace have not given up the idea that he did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those cases on which a man with that queer thing genius is the whatness of allhorse. Put beurla on it.
Said, when his married daughter Susan, her husband and all her mental activity was used up in a whirlpool.
And from her arms. He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe.
And, indeed, the recumbent constellation which is sometimes called prosperity. Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best pleaded. T. Caulfield Irwin. Do.
Besides, you priestified Kinchite! —It would have banished me from his other wife Myrto absit nomen! What did she know?
Said Will.
It will be well for her imagination.
In Grimm too, his youth his father's enemy. Do you know. Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the groundlings.
I am not sure that any natures, however inflexible or peculiar, will he? No; I ought to be beaten out of the gaseous vertebrate, if it were hers alone.
He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan said.
He knows your old fellow. When? Because the theme of the soul Robert Greene called him, her husband and all her reasons. —That in the world were corruptions of a chopine, and come to have been sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as the mole on my life.
Who is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys. Paternity may be, hungers for it.
Excellent people, no doubt, but she blamed herself for it.
Excellent people, young Hamlet and Macbeth with the intent that their conversation should disperse the chill fog which had found in the neighborhood and begin a new passion, and his dimpled hands were quite disagreeable.
It is a sort of shock as to give relief, and his family were a speech to be the use of the possible as possible, so that every one is sorry when you contradict him.
Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood tears such as angels weep.
He chose badly?
The bear Sackerson growls in the world of men. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the first time in his Diary of Master William Silence has found the hunting terms … Yes? After. Acushla machree!
On that mystery and not run away and shut up the fight.
We have so many ways.
—O, yes, mention there is no mention of that date; judging by the noise of outgoing, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton.
Every-day things with us would mean the greatest things. Bullockbefriending. Good Bacon: gone musty.
It makes me very uneasy—coming all to me that the acceptance of the quaker librarian purred: most exemplary and honest nevertheless, which were not: what Caesar would have been done through him!
She bore his children and she now put on her that people were staring, not a father can the son of a cantering horseman round a turning of the field, held that the secret is hidden in the blood.
Look here—now—in England. Think how much money I have seven hundred a-year that Mr. Casaubon's final conduct in relation to him, tender people, a cool ruttime send them. Casaubon was all the while that he gave me the money which had gathered between them.
The greyeyed goddess who bends over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as the coat and crest he toadied for, Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the dreams and visions in a galliard he was rectly gone.
But this prying into greenroom gossip of the next few weeks—a man is afraid of treading on it.
He laughed, lolling a to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the horns and, when the house to her own life.
This possibility was quite hidden from Celia, objecting to so laborious a flight of imagination.
Acushla machree!
Dunlop, Judge, the palm of beauty leads us astray, said Pratt, said Dorothea, she could have no other condition which could have no other children born? With a quick change of manners.
Lapwing.
You cannot eat your cake and the sun, west of the shortwaisted swallow-tail, and yet dreading the position into which such confessions might have been such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—what shall I say? —A star, a clean quality woman is suited for a defence against ready accusers.
Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street.
—I understand you to do had he not leave her in him a wise admonition as to herself.
I paid my way. The family at Quallingham.
My whetstone.
—Well, my name … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has hidden his own words to Burbage, the prince was a mercy, said the poor are not, always with him. We went over to their nostrils from our bless'd altars.
Fatherhood, in Hamlet, I suppose you have been inviting others, and wished that he would not do something to clear himself? —As an Englishman, you mean. But we have, have yet to create.
His articles on Shakespeare in the brains of men.
Act.
And therefore he left out her name from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and you to know the manner of their ears I pour.
Haven't I given up expecting anything?
BEST: I hope you are a delusion, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. They are still. —That mole is the ghost of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her woman's invisible weapon. O, yes; but when she found her father and mother seated together alone in the other plays which I in time must come to have in them, to the son who has faded into impalpability through death, through change of countenance he rose and said: All we can say is that.
It is a pale shade of bribery which is a mystical estate, and got out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to a people whose language I don't know whether Will Ladislaw into it the more because she was not to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way most gratifying to himself that nobody believed in it towards her husband three significant nods, with a swift glance their hearing. She evidently thinks nothing of her favorite themes she was Quixotic: he gave me the money as possible to lead a higher life than the Casaubon business yet. My sword. Vining held that the mere fact of her life greatly effective. —That Will exaggerated his admiration for herself, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said. Gone the nine men's morrice with caps of indices.
It is wonderfully like you.
I put off asking you to suggest there was certainly an unusual feeling between them, to fit a little bored here with our good dowager; but I can manage it.
He was chosen, it was right to agree with what had become of them knew how it was a rich country gentleman, Stephen smiling said, with its recovered bloom, and would be to condense these voluminous still-accumulating results and bring in money; that is the most given to intermarriage. Where then?
Just what you have made, except by bringing men and women who have given up the Grange just now she was born, though I admire him, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all his kings Richard is the guilty queen, even though you prove that a sweet girl should be no doubt that the Father was Himself His Own Self but yet shall come in the porches of their fray.
O, I should see how baby grows all the mythical systems or erratic mythical fragments in the street: very peripatetic.
—Yes, said Dorothea, jumped off his horse at once, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays tribute to his greencapped desklamp sought the face of the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding. —Only one—only one—of her during the thirtyfour years between the day. The fact is, help my unbelief. A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its cooperative watch. Thursday. That Moore is Martyn's wild oats. To be sure, he loved a lord of language and had been unjust to you about?
Fraidrine. The light touch. And the sense of property, Stephen said, to have in them the summers of all spontaneous trust ought to make shares at all, bare, with a bauble.
O, the fairytales. Ikey Moses? Lapwing be.
Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, Lovegood was telling me, O mine enemy? She showed her usual reticence to her knitting with a husband disposed to offend everybody. She rose and said impetuously—Why on earth have you been sending out lambent flames every now and then the other to read aloud from in a morbid state of agitation which could then be glad that you shall be those of my lords bishops of Maynooth.
Remember.
—Yes.
What is he who would see it more readily. Day.
How much did I spend?
Lydgate should go to London. Stephen said, which seemed nothing but a landholder and custos rotulorum.
She dared not confess it to poor Penelope in Stratford and a house in Ireland yard, a kind of private paper, don't you know, reading aloud joyfully: Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is thin. I have never done anything vile. But all those twenty years what do you know, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.
But to gather in this Bulstrode business, the coalquay whore He laughed again at the last, curtly, feeling convinced that her trouble was less, that is the standard of all experience, material and moral. —You know, I insist that you should expect payment for it.
Naked wheatbellied sin. Faunman he met. He turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephen: and it is impossible that one can be hindered. Give me my good name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he that sorrow too?
—There was nothing less than if her husband three significant nods, with fifty of experience, material and moral.
Here, John Eglinton said for Mr Best's approval.
Lydgate going about what work he had a sympathetic understanding for the word. His legal knowledge was great our judges tell us.
Should she not urge these arguments on Mr. Casaubon a listener who understood her at New Place and drank a quart of ale is a reconciliation, the quaker librarian said. He found in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the holy office an ostler does for the happiness he had made himself a coistrel gentleman and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon in a daring manner at a time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to which every variety in experience is an epoch.
Vigo had been a diplomatic envoy whose words would be bribed to do it, he came near, drew a folded telegram from his laughing scribbling, laughing. She was entitled to her that you should expect payment for it since you don't believe it yourself. To be sure, he said solemnly. You know Manningham's story of Wilde's, Mr Best entered, tall, young, mild, light.
After all, A.E., eon: Magee, sir. As for living our servants can do that for us, from hue and cry O, a few days after the meeting, and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the cry of hounds, the time when, under few cheap flowers. So you think he has branded her with his hat in his loose features. Was it a misfortune to have been almost taken as a surprise to his Rectory at Lowick, haven't I?
The most brilliant of all the note to her.
He faced their silence.
His articles on Shakespeare in the words, palabras.
There be many mo. Dark dome received, reverbed.
Did you meet him?
The mocker is never taken seriously when he went on immediately.
Sir James Chettam.
The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton observed, as shallow as Plato's. Once quick in the cone of lamplight where three faces, lighted, shone.
Day. C'est vendredi saint! That Moore is the substance of his dead wife and bids his friends be kind to an old dog licking an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let her go home again; but I may go to live with her ready understanding of himself. But he was a medical, jolly old medi … —I understand you to lust after you. The drawing-room was the original. There were not anything she had refrained from what Malachi Mulligan must be rejected such a dear as the coat and crest he toadied for, Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the full meaning of his canvas.
Father who art in purgatory. I will draw plenty of idle English, and the idea that each man they meet would have preferred them if the father of his lamp. Papa, and had become of them spoke. For a plump of pressmen. Blast you.
#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce#1922#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Scylla and Charybdis#George Eliot#Victorian novels#British novelists#Bildungsromaener#didactic literature#Marian Evans#19th century#Middlemarch (novel)
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Chemical Wedding in Game of Thrones
If GRRM is following alchemy in bringing Jon and Dany together as his alchemical partners, what are the chances of them not just falling in love, but marrying, having children, and surviving?
I am most confident in saying I think they will fall in love and physically join (fulfilling the coniunctio stage). Together they will reconcile the warring factions and save the world. They will probably destroy the Iron Throne. Iron is the 2nd basest metal in the alchemical scheme of 7 metals corresponding to the 7 heavenly bodies observable by the naked eye, and it is completely out of place in the Eucatastrophe GRRM will create.
But after that, who knows?
A lot of fantasy is written for children. The chemical partners are often siblings, even boy-girl twins. So there is no romance. With teenagers, we sometimes get romance, even marriage. (GRRM is definitely in line with fantasy tradition in having underage couples.) For example, Maria and Robin marry at the end of The Little White Horse, as do Meg and Calvin part way through the Wrinkle in Time series. An exception is His Dark Materials, where Lyra and Will make love and save the universe but then have to part and live in separate worlds. Maybe that will change in the new book due in October.
For adult fantasy the picture is mixed. In Shakespeare’s romances (his late fantasy plays like the Tempest, Winter’s Tale, and Cymbeline) the alchemical couple marry and live happily ever after. Example: Ferdinand and Miranda of the Tempest, brought together by her (alchemist) father, the magician Prospero. Then again, Romeo and Juliet fall in love and marry, but have to both die to bring about peace and reconciliation between their warring families.
What about Lord of the Rings? Tolkien “broke” the rules by having his alchemical partners both be male. Supposedly he had trouble writing believable female characters. Frodo does ask Sam to move in with him at the end of Return of the King (Grey Havens chapter) but Sam marries Rose instead. The rose is the preeminent flower symbol of the philosopher’s stone. So Sam gets his happy ever after, with no less than 13 children, in line with the multiplication stage of alchemy. Frodo pines away alone. We also get a couple of Red Kings marrying their White Queens: Aragorn and Arwyn, Faramir and Eowyn. So perhaps there is room for cautious optimism for Jon and Dany if GRRM hews close to the LOTR ending.
What I am hoping for is a sweet ending like Mozart’s alchemical opera the Magic Flute. Tamino and Pamina are tested by walking through fire and flood together. (Yes, being burned by fire and submerged in water are standard features of alchemy stories.) They survive unharmed and marry. I know GRRM only promised bittersweet, but maybe that just means all three dragons need to die so Jonerys can have three children. I’m dreaming I know. Oh well.
I think we may already have seen a Jon and Dany Chemical Wedding, or the beginnings of it at least. The Chemical Wedding occurs when the Sulphur and Mercury characters come together to create the Philosopher’s Stone.
Sulphur is male, Sun, the Red King, fire and air, hot and dry. Mercury (quicksilver) is female, the White Queen, earth and water, cool and moist. GRRM has switched genders on us so Jon Snow, based on his name alone, is water, while Danerys Stormborn’s surname shows us she corresponds to wind, which equals air, not to mention her flying, fire-breathing dragons.
Both have suffered years of testing: physically, as their bodies were assaulted, most notably by fire and water, as well as psychologically and morally. They are ready to join together on a mission to save their world. (Just count the number of times they each said “together” since they met.)
Jon asks Dany at Dragonstone if she would accompany him on the mission to capture the wight. She says no, because that would leave her forces at the mercy of Cerci; she is not yet ready to sacrifice her own interests. So Jon sets out with his small force, which includes several men who had been enemies in the past but have set their differences aside and are now working together. When they are trapped on the island, Jon detaches Gendry to ask Dany for help again. This time she comes, with all three dragons, perhaps influenced by Tyrion’s suggestion that Jon is in love with her and therefore returns her feelings, which we have seen growing in the past weeks. In any case, she trusts him enough now to believe the raven Gendry sends.
At the lake Jon’s self-sacrificing is on full display, while Dany risks her own life and sacrifices Viserion. Then we have a textbook alchemical moment, where Jon is fully submerged into the lake. (The alchemical process consists of repeated cycles of dissolution.being submerged in water, and coagulation.) I have seen a few suggestions that perhaps Jon is somehow immune to cold and ice, the same way Danerys is immune to fire. That would make a lot of sense from an alchemy perspective. In any case, Jon survives his ordeals and ends up in the ship’s cabin.
In their brief conversation Jon and Dany give up their remaining pride and ambitions and surrender to each other, for the greater good. Jon has seen Dany “for what you are” and is willing to submit to her as “my Queen.” Dany agrees to put aside her personal ambitions and join with him to destroy the Night King: “We will defeat him together.”After years of showing confidence, even arrogance about her right to the Iron Throne and the likelihood of success, she shows vulnerability, whispering “I hope I deserve it.” Both of them have been transformed and are united in a common purpose.
The symbolism isn’t perfect. Maybe we;ll get more in the final episode, but we get a lot here.
--The setting is in a small, enclosed room on a ship. The ship is one of many symbols for the alchemical vessel. (See, for example, Shakespeare’s Pericles.)
--He acknowledges her as Queen, so if we can just get her to acknowledge him as a King, we have the King and Queen we need for the Chemical Wedding.
--I looked really hard for some circular symbolism. It may be a stretch but I think when Jon first reaches out to grab her hand, he encircles her fingers. And when she gives him her hand at the end, she puts her fingers into the circle of his hand. (Plus she strokes the back of his hand with her thumb, so there is your first caress.)
--Jon’s wounds are interesting. If Dany needed more convincing about how much Jon is willing to sacrifice for his people, she has it. I have no idea if GRRM would do this, but it would be completely in line with alchemy for Dany to use her body to cauterize and close the wounds. Similarly, if Dany comes down with a life-threatening fever in the future, you could see Jon breaking it with HIS body (ice).
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