#her false lashes were also exquisite.

[mainfaggot]

OMG in other news i saw the most beautiful girl ever while walking to the train, so I stopped to tell her I loved her outfit in an extremely . girliepop voice and like 4 ppl turned around to stare . bc it was probably jarring to hear that tone from someone who is visibly gnc and dressed like a male humanities prof 💀 . anyway she smiled so cutely and thanked me she was suchhhhhhh a baddie

[babyybitchhh]

Oh! You are taking requests! That’s awesome! ✨💫 I’d like to request a scenery where the reader lost her sister to Douma (she lacks proof... it’s an strong gut feeling?... she’s right tho) so, she get on his “good side” working in his cult to get a chance to avenge her sibling... her acting convincing and the “betrayal” amuses him to no end, so he decides to play with her before... eating/transforming her? Your choice! I’m a sucker for horror so it could be as dark as your heart allow it! 💜💃

Sorry this took so long cxnvldsnvoen and even though I tweaked the storyline just a wittle bit, I hope you like it! <3

Words: 2639

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Warnings: Cunnilingus, involuntary urination, cannibalism (sort of, you know the drill with Douma), body horror? Sexual gore? Yandere?? I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to tag this one.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362824/chapters/66015442#workskin

♥♥♥♥

You were easily the most insincere person he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

The lie itself was written all across your face in bold, slashing brushstrokes for the whole world to see if only they’d look close enough but so few ever did. He alone was privy to your deceit. Only he saw that dishonest smile for what it was, always so placid and warm even though it just barely concealed the hissing viper within. The unwavering mask of false loyalty you greet him with and the rage waging war behind your eyes every time you look into his face. Everything was right there, completely out in the open as if you couldn’t be bothered with trying to hide it, and Douma loved that aspect of you perhaps most of all.

Just as any good figurehead should, he’d nurtured the darkness within you until it sprouted roots and festered, growing ever larger as your hate for him also grew. Welcomed you and your heavy burden with open arms. Encouraged it even. You were simply too fun to play with and he was ever so curious to see how far into depravity you would ultimately spiral because of him. In some ways it was sad. Pathetic even that you would devote what was left of your miserable life to being a duplicitous little bitch when there were so many alternatives that were far, far more pleasant. But it was also undeniably thrilling at the same time, almost intoxicatingly so.

To think that he had angered you to the point of not only chasing after him like a pitiable stray but to also go so far as joining his congregation just to get close … this was a uniquely exquisite indulgence he wouldn’t soon rush to squander. Particularly not when keeping you around afforded him so many plushy benefits.

“You’re trembling.” A dangerously sharp nail traces its path down the length of your twitching stomach. He pauses at your belly button, toys with the notion of jamming his finger right through it and into your guts, but ultimately decides to save it for another day. Humming faintly, Douma resumes his tauntingly slow descent south. “Are you cold?”

You refuse to look at him and instead push the side of your face deeper into the pillow. It was always like this no matter how often he opened up his chamber doors in welcome. You simply refused to stop playing your part even when he had you spread out like some shameless whore on his bed of silk and that would never cease to amuse him for as long as he allowed you to live. You’d have been quite the accomplished actress if only you hadn’t been going up against the head performer himself. That you were out of your league was, to him at least, painfully obvious but he didn’t have the heart to tell you that just yet. 

No, not yet. There was still more of you to savor.

Bending close, Douma presses a lingering kiss to the center of your stomach. He can taste you on his tongue, blooming notes of stale meat poisoned with bitter fury, and it elicits a quiet groan out of him. You were the finest decadence he’d had in his bed in a very long while.

“Poor thing, that just won’t do. Let me warm you up.”

You squirm against the sheets as he pecks his way lower, issuing expertly timed sighs at the appropriate intervals. He appreciates just how committed you are to the act. Wonders if you found some pathetic young sod to practice with before presenting yourself to him or if you were simply a brazen slut by nature. It’s hard to say which prospect delighted him more, though Douma hardly cares to know the answer, particularly when he presses two fingers to your outer labia and carefully spreads them open.

So soft and fleshy, the petal-like folds make his mouth water. He could imagine no greater joy than nibbling on those puffy little lips and taking nipping bites at the swollen pearl bud that peaks up at him even now until you were bordering on hysterics, fighting him tooth and nail to get away. Only then, only when you were a frenzied animal trying to escape his taloned clutches, would Douma allow himself to sink his teeth in at long last. He was certain your sweet cunt would give way under his jaw without much resistance, if any at all. It would be just like biting into a peach.

But you weren’t quite ripe enough yet. You were almost there -- so, so very close he could just about feel the meat of your womanhood being rendered and chewed between his molars -- but still not there. He would satiate his abominable hunger only when you were blackened, mind, body and soul with your hate.

Eagerly licking his lips, Douma leans down and swipes the tip of his tongue across your clit. The way the meaty nub clings to his taste buds, dragging against the salivating muscle until it pops back into place with a plump jiggle, delights him to no end. It was so swollen that even it’s protective hood did very little in the way of concealing your arousal. If he didn’t know any better, he’d almost think you’d had to go months on end without release. Evidently, though, your cunt just enjoyed being on the receiving end of his attention that much even when your brain was most assuredly in total disagreement with that sentiment.

He moans, very faintly, at the thought of your brain. The day of feast couldn’t come quick enough.

“Oh, sweet dove …” Douma coos, nuzzling into your clenching pussy as if he were a cat marking its territory. “Are you really so neglected? I’m not sure how you’ll ever forgive me for making you suffer like this.”

You choke down an unintelligible sound that’s half sob, half moan and bring your hand up to coquettishly hide your mouth from his line of sight. “Douma-sama … please …”

He can hear it in your voice. The lie. The obvious, blatant, belligerent lie and it goes straight to his cock.

Undeniably, you sold the performance with every aspect of your body language right down to the way you shyly spread your legs further apart for him but the lie was still there. It was simply too big to hide. Not the small, pardonable white lie a god could be swayed to forgive with the right offering but a massive, all encompassing falsehood that had long since swallowed up your ego like a gluttonous black hole. You weren’t a person any longer but a container merely housing the selfish urge for vengeance.

You were so damn close.

Nails digging into the plush swell of your thigh, Douma lays himself out flat between your legs and presses his mouth to your slit. For as brief as the gesture is, he still comes away with glistening wet lips and he greedily licks up the evidence just as a carnivore might lick its bloodied chops. Delicious.

“Don’t fret, my dear. I know exactly what you need.” A pause. Another playful kiss to your gushing cunt. The savory smacking of his lips is quickly followed by a dreamy, almost wistful sigh that makes you shudder, though it's impossible to say if that reaction was one of pleasure or abject disgust. Not that it really mattered either way to him. “Just relax. Let me take care of you and then you’ll be free to scurry off back to bed like a good little girl.”

You visibly tense under him and, smothering the cruel laughter that tries to claw its way up his throat, Douma glances at your face.

Still partially obscured by your clenched fist, you continue to hide from him as if you were an untouched maiden being ravaged against your will even though you’d spent countless nights with him in his room like this. Always, always playing your role. The tension in your neck, however, told a different story. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you were biting your tongue and he derived a great deal of joy in the knowledge that you despised being talked down to so much. It just made him want to do it even more.

“Do you have any idea how good you taste? You’re like the sweetest forbidden fruit to me.” Tilting his head, Douma seals his lips around your pulsing clit and mouths at you. You arch, shoving your bare tits into the air with a quiet hiss but, still, you won’t look down at him. That suits him just fine though and he comes up off you a moment later with an obscenely loud, attention grabbing slurp that makes you twitch. “I could just eat you up, you know that?”

“D - Douma-sama --”

His tongue abruptly darts out, mercilessly lashing your clit.

You outright squeal, jolting at the sudden onslaught of stimulation before catching yourself and forcibly choking back any other sounds you may have been inclined to make. Douma is not so easily deterred though and he laps at you hungrily, attacking the engorged pleasure button from every possible angle until you’re a quaking mess underneath him. He could help himself to your sopping little cunt for hours if given the chance, high as a kite off the very real urge to consume you in the most literal sense, but it doesn’t take long at all to have you writhing uncontrollably. Although unfortunate, it was expected given just how needy and swollen you were -- and just for him at that. Who could have ever guessed?

“Oh, darling,” He pants, groans into the meat of your pussy. His eyes start to roll back in doped out bliss when your wild twisting drags those petal soft folds across his mouth as if you were intentionally teasing him now. Begging him to just take the plunge and take a bite out of you already.

It was almost enough to break his resolve. He wanted nothing more than to gorge himself on your delectably tainted body until he was too stuffed to move but the part of him that knows precisely how satisfying the payoff will be keeps him in check. It’s too soon -- still too soon to indulge -- and he has to make do with simply drooling all over your poor defenseless cunt while it creams around nothing except your hatred of him. Of all the meals Douma has enjoyed in his lifetime, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would be the one he’d relish the most.  

So caught up in the ecstasy inducing thought of finally eating you, truly eating you, he doesn’t notice you withdrawing a razor sharp pin from your hair until it’s right in his face. Blinking incandescent eyes at the foreign object, Douma allows himself another lazy lick at your still palpitating cunt and you seeth through gritted teeth, the glinting metal trembling in your hand.

“Get. Off.”

He acquiesces without a fuss.

You don’t even try to hide your surprise as you warily watch him sit up so that he’s kneeling on the futon between your spread legs. Clearly you’d expected a different reaction out of him and that makes Douma smile. You don’t seem to appreciate that though and you jerkily sit up straighter, jabbing the pin at him in warning.  

“Wipe that smirk off your face, demon!”

“Or what?” He asks sweetly. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Yes! I’m going to kill you and take revenge for my sister!”

Brows drawing up in affected pity, Douma pins you with a withering leer. “If you’re going to kill me anyway then I don’t see any reason why I should stop smiling.”

Balking, you sputter indignantly. “You - you horrid fiend --”

He moves too quick for you to react. His arm swings, slamming into your wrist with enough force to send the pin flying. You reel back with a haggard gasp but he grabs your forearm in a pinching grip and yanks you close again. Bringing his opposite hand up, Douma rams his palm into the underside of your outstretched limb. The resulting crack is instantaneous and horrible. Your face crumples in agony.

You scream.

“Now, now,” He purrs, letting your arm fall limp at your side. In a shell shocked panic, you try to reach for it as if to reset the bone yourself but he all too easily catches your shaking hand in his. Cradling it close to his chest just as one might do with a lover, Douma smiles at you as he effortlessly snaps your other arm just as he’d done the first. “Calm down. Everything will be alright.”

He can barely hear himself over your frenzied shrieking. It’s hard not to take pity on you when you’re like this, looking for all the world like nothing more than a wounded animal. Confused and so incredibly scared. Almost out of your mind with pain even as regret and terror flash at him through wide, glossy eyes.

It really was a shame too. You’d been so close to reaching full maturity but, well … this would probably do the trick just as well. Not right away, of course, because the only thing currently running through your mind were baser instincts that served no real purpose other than keeping you alive. You were in no mindset to humor your feelings of resentment and hate for him, or the loss of your sister for that matter.

Was that really what had prompted you to seek him out like this? Douma couldn’t exactly recall but it was a believable explanation. He was certainly willing to accept it, at least.

Deciding that the details didn’t really matter, he reaches out to grab your shoulders and shoves you back down on the bed. You wordlessly stare up at him in wild eyed terror as he rises above you like some sort of beautifully horrific wraith, preternaturally sharp teeth glinting in the low light when he grins at you. The shock must be starting to set in because your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Not so much as a peep, as though your voice box had been stolen.

He can’t help the deranged titter that bursts out of him. You were so damn cute .

“Don’t worry, darling. I won’t kill you. Not yet, anyway.” Contently sighing, Douma leans close to nuzzle his nose against yours in a mockingly affectionate gesture that only makes you shake harder. “You’ll stay here with me until you’re rotting from the inside out. I want you to despise me with every fiber of your being first and then, when you can’t even look at me without being consumed by rage, then I’ll finally eat you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You don’t respond - maybe you can’t - but he does feel the moment your bladder finally gives out and seeping wet warmth spreads across the front of his pants. A shudder of revulsion works its way down his spine and he clucks at you, letting his mouth tug into a disappointed frown.

“Such a high maintenance little girl … what should I do with you until then, hmm?” Douma thoughtfully puts his head to one side but quickly perks up at a sudden thought that has him smiling from ear to ear with nothing short of manic glee. “Oh, I know! Maybe I should break your legs too. Then you won’t be able to do anything at all without my help.”

An insignificant, fraying part of your conscience that had managed to cling to its humanity must register what he’d said because you begin shaking your head, still as silent as any mute, and that just makes his grin widen.

“I bet you’ll really start to hate me then, won’t you?”

[k-s-morgan]

Hannigram One-Shot from ‘Ravage’

It just occured to me that I’ve never shared my ‘Ravage’ contribution online! Big thanks to @lovecrimebooks for organizing it and letting me be a part of it.

The story is a short Hannigram AU that takes place in the world of Dante’s hell. My circle was Lust. Hannibal is a literal Devil here; Will is a supernatural being that represents Desire. A story of two deadly forces, obsession, and intricate manipulation.

    Black for Death, Purple for Lust: Colors to Capture the Devil

“To this torment are condemned the carnal damned. Those for whom desire conquered reason.” — Virgil

The flickers of darkness were tightly entwined with splashes of gold, red, and white. All dominant colors seeking to represent every being that had chosen to participate in this mockery of a meeting.

The Ball of Highest Powers was an event that Hannibal had always found appallingly primitive. And yet, being the Master, the Devil, he was forced to attend each one. To watch the emergence and the disappearance of his old and new acquaintances. To reinforce his inevitable presence. 

To instill fear. Because he was no longer a Lucifer, God’s fallen angel, trapped for all eternity. He was a Hannibal, the name he had chosen himself, a rightful owner of Hell; the Devil reborn, reclaiming his agency.

Recently, God began to avoid Earth more and more, and Hannibal was only too happy to take control over it.

They knew it — these beings proudly calling themselves the Highest Powers. They knew that if they displeased him, they would be gone. Anteros, or Anthony as he preferred to call himself these days, his oldest source of annoyance, the only surviving representation of Love. Margot, a recently emerged Goddess of Grace. Mason, his supposed ally, reflecting Perversion. And many, many more.

Not everyone attended the Ball, but it was the only opportunity to become aware of how many of them continued their existence, what new reflections had come to life.   

“Will you be putting a crown on anyone today?” Anthony asked him, holding a glass of crystal liquid and watching the masses swirling in a dance. Hannibal measured him with a disinterested gaze. 

As one of the most ancient beings, Anthony was the only one who dared to engage him at least in some way, despite knowing the extent of Hannibal’s contempt to him and to what he represented.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Hannibal replied mildly. The crowns. The tradition that all of them followed faithfully. Every color had its own meaning. Anthony tended to put a red crown on one of these poor souls every year, expressing his fleeting affection. 

The only crowns Hannibal used were black ones, symbolizing instant elimination and oblivion. He had the power to destroy those who no longer amused him, which made Anthony’s boldness all the more surprising. 

“Don’t look at me,” Anthony said half-jokingly, and Hannibal’s lips twitched in distaste. 

Before he could answer, though, a strange hush fell over the hall. More and more beings went silent, staring somewhere, and involuntarily, Hannibal felt a weak pang of curiosity. 

Some creature emerged from the crowd, moving at a leisurely pace, staring at him. 

Moving to him. Or perhaps to Anthony, which was far more likely?  

But no. The blue eyes were fixed on him, and Hannibal blinked incredulously. His bewilderment changed into disbelief and then stupor when he finally noticed what this newcomer was holding. 

A crown. A purple crown. 

A crown of lust. 

Lust. Everyone knew Hannibal’s feelings toward it, the dark satisfaction he received in keeping lovers apart, separated by vast, rocky chasm in their special circle of Hell.

There was no misstep that Hannibal despised more. Other sins were delicious, deserving the most exquisite torment, poisoning even the most strong-willed people. Lust, though, this bleak, faded semblance of emotion was shared only by crippled weaklings. Hannibal readily engaged in other sins, but not in lust — never in lust. 

And this new… creature was carrying a purple crown? Heading toward him? He was. One step closer to him, then another. Then he broke into his personal space, and Hannibal remained frozen, paralyzed by a strange, unfamiliar feeling.

He had never seen this creature before. 

He would remember him. 

Blue eyes were studying him intently, framed by dark lashes. Pale face, chocolate curls, pink mouth. A classical beauty.

The being smiled at him and Hannibal’s lips parted. His breath caught in his chest, his hands grew horrifyingly clammy, and he distinctly felt his pupils getting wide, his eyes glazing over.

The scent hit him then — strange, enticing. The scent of innocence and death. Hannibal shuddered, inhaling it deeply, his nostrils flaring in attempt to get more of it. 

And then the smiling creature reached forward and put the purple crown on his head, and he still did nothing. The silence stretched, both of them staring at one another, Hannibal’s fingers twitching, aching to touch, to feel. 

The strange creature tilted his head, watching him, let out a thoughtful sound, and then turned his back to him and disappeared within the crowd.

The silence was deafening, and Hannibal was still rooted to his spot, unable to move, utterly confused by what had happened and by the fact that he was now wearing a purple crown, with no instinct to take it off. 

Conversations resumed eventually, and Anthony, who was still standing nearby, chuckled. 

“Well, that was unexpected,” he said, amused. “Did you honestly like Will, or are you already plotting his demise?”

“Will?” Hannibal echoed. 

“Will. Desire,” Anthony’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You didn’t recognize him? He’s not exactly new. It’s just that he has never visited the Ball before. Few of us know him personally, but I thought that you, for sure—”

Hannibal stopped listening. Because while the name Will was new, he was indeed aware of Desire. The cunning, ubiquitous being that found entrance everywhere, slipping equally into the most romantic souls, enhancing their desire for affection, and into the violent ones, feeding their desire for war and destruction.

And now he seemed to slip into the Hell itself. Into Hannibal’s domain, into his very mind. Leaving him humiliated, with that purple embarrassment on his head. 

Suddenly infuriated, Hannibal tore the crown from himself and clenched it in his hand, wishing only to crush it. 

Foolish Will — to challenge the Devil himself. 

Hannibal would put an end to it, and to him.

***

The cold darkness of Hell was soothing. The shadows were whispering to him, the souls were moaning, begging, but for some reason, it brought no pleasure to him.

Restless, Hannibal moved along the line of entrapped lovers within his circle of Lust, staring into their glassy faces, the longing and thirst reflected there as they kept looking over the chasm, trying to get a glimpse of their partners. He wasn’t some weak-minded creature like them. And he certainly didn’t experience lust. Such thing was beneath him.

But the image of blue eyes and lips curled up in a smile kept haunting him, his mind greedily recalling every bit, savoring it, filling his body with strange, buzzing sensation.   

A purple lighting storm swirled around the chasm — the soul of Alana rising to see what was happening. 

Alana was one of his human lovers, one Hannibal had seduced out of amusement, one he had been driving mad with lust until she killed a man in attempt to protect him, falsely thinking that Hannibal was about to be attacked. She had died in that confrontation as well, and since there was no lover Hannibal could position her against in the circle of Lust, he had chosen to turn her into a lighting storm here, trapped between two sides of the chasm. 

Hannibal paid her no mind, but Alana whispered something, trembled, and suddenly, an image of Will appeared, huge and stretched through the entire chasm — shocking and ethereally beautiful.

Hannibal stared, a sharp rebuke freezing on his lips. 

Will, Desire, was moving slowly through some forest, his eyes focused and curious, alight with intelligence and intensity that Hannibal found breathtaking. He made a strange movement, his eyebrows rising, and then he smiled, and Hannibal was lost. 

Before he could stop himself, he materialized in a flash of smoke in the same forest, in the same place, several inches from Will.

Will stopped and strengthened slowly. Then he said without turning, “Now *this* is not the moment when I expected to encounter you.” 

“I am faintly disturbed that you expected to encounter me at all,” Hannibal replied, watching his back, his eyes narrowed. 

Finally, Will turned, and Hannibal’s breath hitched uncontrollably. His mind swam, his limbs went shaky. Desire crashed into him, enveloped every part of him, and he nearly snarled in frustration.

“Stop this,” he hissed, and Will blinked.

“Stop what?” he asked, as if genuinely confused. Clarifying would require more than he was ready to sacrifice, so Hannibal gritted his teeth and said nothing. Will tilted his head, an amused look crossing his features. 

“Did you come here for me or are you interested in artful death as much as I am?”

“Artful death,” Hannibal echoed. Now, for the first time, he sensed a familiar smell of approaching decay, and he glanced at the ground, at an arched wrist that was protruding from it. 

“Someone is killing people and burying them alive to feed the mushrooms,” Will said, also watching the ground. Hannibal would be taken aback — humanity still had the power to surprise him with the things they did, crazy as they were, but currently, he was much more interested in other matters. Specifically, in one standing before him.

“Do you get the souls quicker when they are buried alive?” Will asked, and Hannibal considered his question, surprised at the novelty of it. 

“Yes,” he said eventually. “But the difference is slight, barely worth mentioning. Why are you here? Do you entertain yourself by helping those who can be saved?” 

“No,” a frown marred Will’s forehead but somehow, it made him even more beautiful, and all thoughts left Hannibal’s head once again. “I told you. I’m not interested in life — only death captivates me. Well… now, at least.”

“This person is not dead yet.”

“But he will be,” Will shrugged. “I existed long enough to understand the beauty of it. Death is comforting. Pity not all of us have the privilege of experiencing it.”

“You will,” Hannibal told him, trying to sound calm, to hide the breathless notes in his voice. “If you keep provoking me.”

Some dark shadow flickered across Will’s face before it smoothed out, an amusing glint returning to his eyes. 

“How am I provoking you?” he wondered. 

“The only way you know how… Will. Or do you prefer to be called Desire?”

“Not in the least,” Will told him. “And I cannot deliberately affect you, no matter how hard I would try. I affect people only, slipping into their minds, evoking and enhancing their desires — for various things. Desire for love. Desire for destruction. Desire for revenge. What do you desire, Hannibal? To the extent where you would hope to blame it on me?”

Confusion and rage and something else, something heavier and much more intoxicating, swirled within him, and Hannibal crossed the distance between them in several short steps, crushing their mouths together, clenching Will’s hair in his fist and pulling at it violently. 

Will let out a surprised sound — as if he had the right to be surprised after everything he had done, after his purple crown at that ball. Then his mouth opened wider, accepting him, and Hannibal kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, breathing faster and faster, until he felt dizzy, until the air he didn’t even need started to be lacking, until his consciousness darkened and faded. He craved him. He needed him, desperately. 

Everything happened in a mist — him tearing Will’s clothes off, pushing him against the tree, taking his fill of him, Will’s soft moans breaking the silence, his compliance sweet and maddening. However, it all changed quite suddenly. Hannibal paused, regaining his strength, ready to take him again, but Will turned quickly and before he could say anything, he found himself pushed against the tree in return, Will’s nails piercing his skin to hold him in place, painful and sharp. 

It was madness — everything that was happening. Hannibal didn’t understand it, couldn’t understand what was running through his veins, so hot and powerful, so intoxicating that he felt drunk on it. On Will. Later, when they both fell in a boneless heap right onto the ground, in the middle of the graveyard of those still living, Hannibal continued to touch him, to breathe in his smell, to stare at him in greed and never-ending confusion. He wanted him. He wanted him still. 

Will reached out, his nails and the tips of his fingers red with Hannibal’s blood, and drew something on his arm — a small stag. 

“To remember me until you want to forget me,” he said. Hannibal stroked his neck, thoughtfully, almost kindly. 

“I am going to kill you,” he said, and Will nuzzled into his shoulder, a blissful smile touching his lips.

“I’m counting on it,” he murmured. “After all, this is why I have given you that purple crown. I expected to get a black one in return.”

Hannibal pulled away sharply, surprised and wishing to hide it. 

Who could want a black crown? Highest Powers feared death more than humans. The idea of not existing terrified them, shrank their vanity and drowned their feeling of superiority. 

Hannibal was the only one who had nothing to fear in this regard, and yet for some reason, Will’s dark words made him uneasy. He’d seen suicidal humans, held their souls, but those of the Highest Powers?

He couldn’t bear the burn of this confusion any longer. In an instant, Hannibal melted in smoke, with his last glimpse being Will, watching him with all-knowing, mysterious eyes. 

He found himself back in his least favorite circle, under rebuking and hating stares of those trapped here for the very sin he was now wearing as a coat around himself. 

Lust. Was that what it felt like? Why now, when Hannibal had given up hope on understanding and relating to it? He knew how to use lust, how to evoke it, but he had never been its target before. It was humbling — and infuriating. But still, not as bewildering as Will’s desire for a black crown.

The next days passed in brooding. Hannibal knew every corner of his domain, had his most and least favorite places, yet now, he felt restless wherever he went. The urge to see Will again, to have him, to listen to the troubling things he said was growing within him like a living being, coiling and hissing as he refused to succumb to it. 

The stag drawn with blood was still sitting on his shoulder, with Hannibal wanting to erase it but finding himself unable to. 

Maybe later. 

When his resolve finally broke and he sought Will out, he was once again sent into stupor. 

Will was in Lithuania. Near a painfully familiar grave. And he was busy arranging the bodies of some men around it.

Absolutely confounded, Hannibal found himself reaching for him, materializing just a step away, unable to believe his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered. “How do you know about this place? About her? No one does. No one was ever supposed to know.”

“Know that you have a weakness?” Will adjusted his hair, which seemed longer today, looking at Hannibal from under his lashes. The already familiar shock of desire ran through him but Hannibal was too stunned to act on it. 

Something else was stopping him, too.

Despite his flirting gestures, Will looked sad. Full of that strange, ancient sadness that was all too familiar to Hannibal, but which he had never seen on anyone else before. 

“How do you know?” Hannibal asked again, and this time, Will smiled mirthlessly. He touched the bodies he had arranged almost lovingly, moving them a little, so a grave would be directly in the center. 

“This is where the only source of light in your life has died,” he said quietly. “This is where Mischa was buried. This is where I was born.” 

When Hannibal just stared at him blankly, Will sighed. 

“You have existed for the amount of time that no other being can comprehend,” he murmured. “I shudder when I try to imagine it. Endlessness. Emptiness. Boredom. But four centuries ago, something happened. Something changed. You were playing human again, as you do whenever boredom strikes you, and you got attached to a little girl. By accident, I’m sure, because you would never willingly let yourself feel. Perhaps the whole experience was amusing to you at first, but then you started to actually feel something. Everyone would think that a human girl protected by the Devil would be coddled to death, as safe as she could possibly be. But you got distracted — another unruly soul that had to be handled, another instance of unrest. You were gone and during this time, she was murdered — and whatever light that had started to grow within you was extinguished. You found her body here and decided to bury her in this same place… and you summoned me.” 

Hannibal’s lips refused to obey. He licked them, strangely nervous, staring at Will and having no idea what to feel. 

“Summoned you?” he clarified carefully.  

“Yes,” Will looked away, glancing at Mischa’s grave again. “All Highest Beings appear to reflect emotions of large clusters of people. Some of them die by your hand and new, synonymous ones appear in their stead. They are all proud to represent the Highest Powers but they forget that they were created by humans. When similar emotions are experienced by a big number of people at once, a representative of this emotion is born — and this process is endless. In my case, though… my creator is you.”

“This is a lie,” Hannibal snapped. “I destroy. I do not create.”

Will’s lips curled in something too frightening to be called a smile. 

“Maybe,” he said. “Therefore, I am your mistake. Your single lapse of judgment. After you found Mischa’s body, you held her. And you willed the time to reverse. You willed it to return you to the past, so you could save her. You willed it to return you to the moment of your first encounter, so you could never approach her again. Of course, your wishes weren’t granted. They never are, not even when the Devil himself is asking for it. Instead, I was born here. Yet another variation of Desire… only this time, your desire. Summoned by the strength of your pleas.”  

“You are lying. I have never even seen you before that last ball!” Hannibal snarled, but the chill in his bones told him everything he needed to know. Will wasn’t lying. Will had witnessed his embarrassing descend into the most human emotions. Will had seen what Hannibal had spent centuries on trying to forget.  

“You deny my very existence,” Will tilted his head, and despite vehement words, he didn’t sound angry. There was just that same sadness in his voice, one that he carried around himself at all times, which was wrapped around him like a cloud. “I am used to it by now. Since the moment of my appearance in this graveyard, with you burying Mischa, I saw only you. But you never even glanced at me. Not once. At first, I thought I was too weak to materialize properly. That is how I tried to explain your blindness. I tried to approach you many times after that — years after years. For centuries. But no matter how hard I tried, you never saw me. And it was killing me as the connection I feel to you is overwhelming — it reduces me to a ball of clingy, desperate emotions, all of which you despise.”

Hannibal stepped away before he could stop himself, disturbed by the genuineness and warmth he could feel emanating from Will.

He didn’t know if he liked it. He had never felt… this, directed at him. Will noticed his instinctive retreat, but instead of acting hurt, he dared to laugh.  

“I live for you,” he said easily, and Hannibal stared at him, unable to comprehend how anyone could be so open, how anyone could say this to him.

Despite sugary words, Will didn’t act as if he was swooning in his presence. He hadn’t acted like that in the forest as well — he positioned himself as his equal. He had more grace than the majority of Highest Beings. 

It was impossible to understand him.

“I’ve spent all my life in the hope that you will finally see me, learning everything I could about you, becoming your shadow,” Will continued. “Others don’t touch me — it is you whom I crave, whose attention I seek, whose company I desire. But recently… I realized that I could no longer pretend. I was a mistake that you’ve made once — that’s all there is to it. Knowing that my goal was futile, I chose against continuing my existence. At that ball, for the first time, I approached you not with love and desire, but with death and lust. And you saw me. After all this time. Because even though you loved that little girl, even though your love and your desire to change the past created me, these are not the feelings that you can recognize. Mischa was an anomaly. What you do recognize is death, which you sow, and lust, the circle of which you control. Lust is the closest you can feel to affection… I think. So this was the only time when you could see me.”

“I can see you now,” words escaped by themselves, before Hannibal could stop them. A flash of surprise crossed Will’s face before he chuckled.

“Of course you can,” he said almost gently. “Because I still intend to die. You can feel it on me. And that is why I hope that you will gift me with oblivion. You are the only one who can do that — not to mention that it will be as overly dramatic as you like. Symbolic. Dying from the hand of someone who made me.” 

Hannibal’s thoughts were uncharacteristically jumbled. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, confused, at a loss, bewildered. Will was confounding. When he looked at him, even now, Hannibal could feel the dryness of his own mouth, the fevered hotness of his skin — lust, thick and powerful, mindlessly pushing him forward, his fingers trembling with the urge to touch, to caress, to bruise. Even this alarming revelation hadn’t changed it — he still wanted Will.

But he was also scared of him. Another new feeling, the flavor of which Hannibal tasted with interest, wondering if this was what others felt in his presence.

There was something else that bothered him, so, licking his dry lips, Hannibal asked, “You said you approached me with death and lust. Does it mean that your previous feelings no longer exist?”

“Nothing and no one can change them,” Will replied, still serene, still smiling. “You’ve made me. I will be always attracted to you — even I can’t fight it. But I am not a mindless bundle of desire. Before, having you see me, talk to me, was a dream. My most cherished fantasy. Once I decided to disappear, death became my biggest wish. When I managed to subdue my brighter feelings for you and pushed death and something as primal as lust to the front, you saw me — but even then, you refused to give me what I want. I didn’t get my black crown. Even after the forest, you still haven’t granted my wish. I don’t understand why — you have executed others for much, much less. Coming to Mischa was my last idea. Everything started here — it would be prudent if everything came to an end in this same place. Don’t you agree?”

Hannibal touched him, then, tracing the contour of his face, moving to his lips. Will closed his eyes, shuddering, tilting his head in such a sensual way that for a second, Hannibal’s vision went black with absurd, maddening desire. 

“Wasting centuries over me,” he whispered. “How foolish.”

Will opened his eyes, frowning, but when he wanted to move away, Hannibal tightened his grip on him.

“I will grant your wish,” he promised. “But not now.” 

Will looked at him expressionlessly. Hannibal was the one to step away, and his eyes lingered on Will for quite a while before he dissipated in the darkness.

He spent the next days lost in thoughts. He would kill Will — that was undeniable. He couldn’t tolerate the existence of someone who knew him from such a side, someone who dared to feel emotions to him that Hannibal despised. 

But something was stopping him, making him delay that inevitable moment. There was something irresistible in realization that he was the one to create Will, that he had his very own Highest Being — unique, not like the others. Beautiful and tragic and deadly. Will had quite a list of souls he had been playing with. He wasn’t simply seducing people’s minds — he was driving them insane, whispering and poisoning them once they were sleeping, making them want things they would never dare to want. Hannibal checked, and in all his time, he had never seen such a vicious and cunning version of Desire. 

Secretly, he wondered if Desire was even the right name for Will. Considering how tightly it was interconnected with lust, it formed a deadly combination that affected even him. 

Because he wanted him. Was aching for him. His madness was intensifying, urging him to locate Will and to have him again, whether he wanted it or not. Hannibal prepared a black crown — stunning and regal, fitting for his creation, but he still struggled with making a decision. He continued to think. To wonder. His thoughts came to a halt when he suddenly felt a strange, vague whisper of alarm. Hannibal narrowed his eyes, listening attentively, frowning when the stag Will had drawn on him, one that Hannibal couldn’t force himself to remove, heated abruptly, as if coming to life. 

‘At this point, nothing would actually surprise me,’ Hannibal thought, but before he could look at the picture on his arm, another pang of alarm pierced him — this one much stronger. Hannibal tensed for a second, and his lips curled in a snarl when he realized that someone had entered Hell — someone who had no place here. 

His kingdom was being… invaded? Who could possibly be as foolish as to…

The wall glimmered under his glare, its shape softening to a well of images. Hannibal quickly found the circle where the intruder was — Lust, and he wanted to scoff — but stopped as he saw the whole picture. 

That same rocky chasm. And Will, standing on its edge, with his back to it, looking directly at Hannibal — as if he knew where he was, as if he knew where to look. His lips began to move and Hannibal stared at them, reading the words they formed.

‘Thank you for not removing the stag. I wasn’t sure you would keep it. My entrance to Hell… the last piece of my plan. It’s true, only you have the power to kill the Highest Beings, but the place where you reign has the same ability. I know you well — too well, perhaps. Such a curious creature like you wouldn’t be able to make a decision, torn between wanting to keep me and wanting to destroy me — wanting to toy with me. So, I will make that choice for you. Good-bye… Hannibal.’

Hannibal’s eyes widened when he saw Will take that last, small step — and disappear within the chasm.    

“No!” he cried before he could stop himself, suddenly, unexpectedly terrified. He wasn’t thinking as he threw himself into the pile of smoke, disappearing and reappearing in the middle of the chasm, thinking in forgotten, suffocating despair, ‘It’s not too late, it can’t be too late, it can’t…’   

It seemed like even in his unexplainable panic, he had managed to calculate the distance correctly — a second later Will landed right into his waiting arms, looking calm, as if he hadn’t been one step from death.  

Hannibal clutched him with awful, bewildering tenderness, burying his face in his dark, curly hair, inhaling its scent deeply. 

“You are mine,” he murmured, not fully understand his own words. “I created you, so you belong to me.” 

He was drowning in this — this confusing affection, these warmth and greediness and possessiveness he had never felt before, didn’t know what to do with. 

Now that he was seeing Will, he wasn’t sure he could stop. 

Mindlessly, he kissed Will’s temple, then his face, his neck, still holding him, trembling with desire to tear into him, to leave him a shaking, bleeding mess — and then to tend to his wounds, to lick them clean and start everything over again. 

One who had witnessed his emotional downfall. One who existed solely for him. Who wasn’t scared of him. One who… understood him?

“You are mine,” he said again, leaned back and froze, seeing a victorious, malicious smile on Will’s face. However, it disappeared quickly, and Hannibal was back to cradling him, feeling strangely, unexplainably complete. 

The violet lighting storm swirled around them — Alana making her presence known, but Hannibal didn’t pay her any mind. His eyes were glued to one specific being in his arms, one that he didn’t intend to let go, even if he had no idea what to do with him.

Hannibal kissed him again, following a foreign, heated impulse. As he continued to shower Will’s flawless skin with kisses, he heard a soft whisper, “What about my crown, Hannibal?” 

“You cannot rule Hell with me. Why would I give you a crown? Even I don’t wear one,” Hannibal retorted, too distracted to look up.

He heard a satisfied chuckle, and then the violet storm ensnared them both, carrying them back to the surface.   

“Mine,” Will said, his voice frightening in its triumphant deadliness. Hannibal didn’t understand what he meant, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

He would think about it later, when this haze was over.

If it would ever be over.        

[grelleswife]

Please imagine Grell and Sebastian kissing with passion after an intense fight, which they use to show their love for each other

@chinatzuify-blog I imagined…and went wild! Please see below for a one-shot that I wrote based on this prompt. At some point tomorrow, I’ll also post it to AO3 for anyone who’s interested. I hope you like it!

Fighting someone whose skill and ferocity rival your ownentails a certain degree of intimacy,Sebastian Michaelis reflected as he narrowly dodged yet another rapid swing ofGrelle’s death scythe. The divine weapon’s low, harsh buzz harmonized with theunbridled laughter of the reaper who wielded it with such astounding dexterity.

Close combat with a fellow immortal could not be moredifferent from skirmishes with humans—feeble, pathetic insects that they are, he mused, parrying Grelle’s latest attack with afistful of the finest Phantomhive cutlery. Youmust be perfectly in tandem with your opponent’s movements, attuned to the slightestsaccade of the eyes or twitch of a muscle, intertwine your spirit with theirsuntil you are one heart, one mind. With the exception of soul-eating, there is nopleasure so exquisite.

And never had heexperienced this connection as deeply as with the irrepressible reaper known asGrelle Sutcliff. Even during their initial clash in the wake of Madame Red’sdeath, when each had been fully prepared to kill the other, Sebastian had thedistinct impression that they were engaged in a wild, exhilarating dance, a savagelyflirtatious waltz. The seemingly incessant rain that gently pattered uponLondon’s streets that fateful evening could not douse the rapacious flame that theencounter sparked within him. It flickered just beneath his skin, hungrilywhispering for Grelle. Grelle.

When she unexpectedlyappeared at his young master’s sprawling estate this night and challenged himto another match (“I so long for morevigorous exercise with you, dearest Bassy”), Sebastian’s false heart had leapt inanticipation. Another chance to test his mettle against hers, anotherbloodstained promenade with this ostentatious, delectably maddening woman…whowas he to refuse such a lady? Thus had their current battle begun.

The whirring chainsawsuddenly brushed against the side of his neck in a vicious kiss, even as Sebastian’sglittering knives lightly caressed Grelle’s abdomen. Phosphorescent green eyesmet his piercing, carmine gaze. “My, my, Bassy,” Grelle drawled, displaying hersharp, glittering teeth in a broad grin, “We are at eachother’s mercy. Whatevershall we do?”

“Given that we havereached an impasse, Miss Sutcliff, it appears that the most logical course ofaction would be to end in a draw,” he replied.

For a fleeting instant,at the use of the feminine salutation, he saw an emotion he could not quitedefine stir within the depths of Grelle’s eyes. The moment passed, and Grelle cautiouslylowered her death scythe as the demon returned his knives to the inner liningof his waistcoat. “So considerate of a lady’s feelings,” she murmured, lookingup at Sebastian coyly though the dark, artificial lashes she had applied withsuch care. He felt a curious flutter in the pit of his stomach.

“But I must bid you goodnight until our next passionate tryst, my love. William has a mountain of tediouspaperwork for me to slog through, and a woman must get her beauty sleep…”

“William can go hang,”Sebastian snarled, surprised at the surge of rancor that welled up within him. Sucha fusty, straightlaced dullard could never appreciate a soul such as Grelle’s,a spirit all compact of fire. Not like he could.

“Oo la LA,” the reaper tittered,tilting her head coquettishly, an impish smile playing about her lips. “Couldit be that my Bassy is jealous?”

“Nothing of the sort,”Sebastian sputtered indignantly as, to his chagrin, a faint blush spread acrosshis cheeks. “I merely meant that…that there are…better pursuits with which towhile away your eternity.” He had always prided himself on his facility withlanguage—it was a weapon that he could bend to his will as he saw fit, thegolden thread with which he had made countless human masters dance as his gulliblepuppets. But something about the alluring woman watching him so intently causedhis mind to gutter out like a dying candle, words swirling out of reach likeleaves cast aloft on the wind.

“Such as?” she enquired softly.

Sebastian took a stepcloser. Almost unbidden, a gloved hand came to rest tenderly against Grelle’scheek. He leaned towards her, his sable locks lightly brushing against herforehead. At this range, he could clearly see the golden dusting of frecklesacross her nose that even the most meticulously applied makeup could notconceal from his keen demon’s eyes. Whatan enchanting creature.

Without a sound, Sebastianclosed the remaining gap and kissed her fiercely. Grelle gave a low cry ofmingled pleasure and astonishment, death scythe clattering to the ground as heavidly took possession of her mouth. It was a contemplative, lingering kiss,his agile tongue caressing the contours of every one of those delightfully sharpteeth as if to say, I want you completelyand utterly to myself. As Sebastian felt Grelle’s hands reach up to theback of his head, fingers clutching his silken hair in a furious ecstasy, hewent deeper, eliciting a soft, needy sound from her throat that promptly dispelledwhat little command of English remained at his disposal in such a state. He nextturned his attention to her slender, lily-white throat. Tooth and tongue ravishedGrelle’s soft skin as he muttered a trail of half-formed endearments in dark, passionateLatin down her neck before biting her shoulder with a brutal tenderness thatwas certain to bruise. Marking her as hiswoman.

Mine.

MINE.

He finally pulled backwith a gasp, breathing heavily. Grelle stared at him, scarlet hair tousled, hereyes luminous torches in the night.

“As I suspected. You area tiger beneath your butler’s finery,Sebastian Michaelis,” she laughed. That mysterious fluttering sensationreturned tenfold when he heard his current alias uttered in such tones.

Her eyes narrowedplayfully.

“But I am a rose withthorns.”

Without further ado, Grellepulled the demon’s head towards her, bestowing a kiss of her own. Sebastianhalf-growled, half-purred as Grelle nicked his skin in her rapacious haste, drawinga trickle of blood with teeth as sharp as briars. But this pain was as spice toa lavish banquet, adding a certain requisite piquancy to their union. Theirhands shifted to one another’s waists, and the two moved closer still as Grellelavished her ministrations on him. I aman unceasing fire, always devoured yet never consumed, she seemed to say withher fierce, reckless kisses. I shall fillyour infinite emptiness.

Abruptly, Grelle pulled herselffrom his embrace with a little laugh. “Maisnon!” she cried gaily as Sebastian reached for her with a moan of protest. “Atrue lady always leaves her man yearning for more.” She took him by the hand,gently turning it over to kiss the center of his palm. “Not to fret, mydarling,” she whispered. “I’ll return soon enough to pick up where we’ve leftoff. I do believe,” (another kiss graced his palm, his long, slender fingers—eventhrough his glove, Sebastian could sense the ardor of her oh-so-red mouth) “I’llhave to keep you.” Releasing thebutler’s hand from her grasp, Grelle spun about gracefully on her heel,retrieving her discarded death scythe. “Aurevoir, my love,” she called out as she strode away into the night, hair streamingbehind her like a fiery banner. “See you real soon!”

Sebastian was left staringafter the her, shaking his head in consternation. In the midst of shadows,without the auspices of his master, he had shared a kiss with a grim reaper, abeing who should by all accounts have been his mortal enemy. It made no sensewhatsoever, as absurd as a comedy, as fraught with peril and strife as atragedy.

“A true lady always leaves her man yearning for more,” Grelle had declared.If only she knew. Despite himself, Sebastian found himself enthralled by her. Aqueen making hungry where she most satisfied, a wild rose with the sharpest andbloodiest of thorns.

His fingers traced thecurve of his lower lip in silent meditation. “I should like to kiss you in thesunlight someday,” he mused aloud.

The Phantomhive butlerhad finally gotten a taste of Grelle Sutcliff, and he was already ravenous formore.

[junkyardlynx]

Pt. 8

As the purple sky gave way to dull and ruddy orange, the treeline along the highway gave way to open field and the single dirt road leading inwards, revealing the nightmare I suspected. Suspected, but not desired.

Unending flame.

Trees. Grass. Flowers. Animals. People.

Shrieks began to drown out the roar of the engine and music, splitting the air with their inhumanity. The insentient flora and fauna perished quickly, mere obstacles caught in the crossfire. The people weren't so lucky. They were there with unfortunate purpose, lashed to iron stakes in the ground, bound and burning. Ever burning. They should have expired long ago, choking on their own bubbling flesh and the thick, dark haze that suffocated the clearing. No such mercy found them, their bodies preserved by tainted magic. Their screams were a beacon.

A nightmare, born from dreams of flame, clawed it's way out from the space between the Layers. It trumpeted its existence with a cry that shook the earth, and all the unfortunate souls pinned to the ground by the overwrought iron stakes seemed to turn inside out at the sound. Red mist met black smoke and Hell was disgorged onto Earth, in the middle of the Jacklyn Halls Nature Preserve.

Something wicked this way comes, I thought.

Smoky the Bear would be disappointed.

As Sarisa flipped the tail end around at the mouth of the dirt road and brought the bike to a halt, I grimly noted that the timing was too perfect. The profane ritual was not easily engineered and its timing - birthing chaos in all its glory just as we arrived - spoke of three possibilities. Ice ran through my veins as I weighed them.

One, they were simply lucky. Not outside the realm of possibility, but unlikely.

Two, our every move was being watched. Leagues more fathomable, but also unfitting. No detection magics or familiars had been discovered, and conventional listening devices would have been rendered inoperable as soon as I discharged any amount of magic from my being.

Three?

Every move we made had been meticulously planned and manipulated by someone else.

The thought chilled me, but gave me strength. If the enemy needed us to behave, acting in unexpected ways would grant us an element of surprise in the future if this was the case, and I felt it was. However, there was no way we could “act unexpected” and simply ignore this colossus of fire and flesh towering before us. Over five metres tall with skin quite too white and human for my taste, it’s misshapen and childlike head bore countless cracks and fissures that leaked lava like open sores. Two black pits of tar, uncannily expressive, sat deep within it’s skull, it’s lips open and babbling words that were less words than syrupy sweet music. It wailed horrendously as it fumbled to it’s full height, the pain of birth fresh in it’s newly-formed flesh.

Ah.

“Is that...?”

Sarisa stood beside me, flicking her wrist to engage the bracelet on her wrist into a thin and flexible wire whip.

“Amdusias.”

“Wow, the old scholars knew-” Sarisa’s words were cut short as Amdusias swung one fat wrist, roughly the thickness of a sapling’s trunk, our way. We leapt back easily, gauging our distance and the actions of the demon. “They knew nothing, damn. Where’s his unicorn head? I was promised a unicorn head, Jeal.”

“Just be thankful he doesn’t have twenty-nine legions of demons and spirits with him.”

I slipped my hand into a Wound, pulling forth my trusted lance. Amdusias raged around, thrashing at the earth as rivulets of molten blood dripped from it’s numerous searing wounds. It’s rage was momentarily misdirected from us. Things were about to get serious, and this was no time to practice moderation. My own fatigued body had already been restored to working order by the dragon’s eye, so there weren’t even any excuses if I were to look for one. As the shattered dome of the observatory loomed in the distance, I found my blood quickening, as if the magic inside of myself and my lance ached to be unleashed. 

Truthfully, they did.

Try as I might, I couldn’t help but admit I craved this. I reveled in it. Staking my existence on the here and now, on everything I was as I matched my being against another’s and triumphed. It wasn’t a part of my personality I particularly prided myself on, but it was there. Denying it would do nothing. 

This lance. Lacking any discernible toolmarks and smithing techniques, it was slender, sharp and exquisitely white. It looked as if it was carved from one piece of pure light. I loved it so. Other than it’s colour and the craftmanship, it seemed unremarkable, bearing no real ornamentation - a well made stick, really . A trusty weapon with no apparent magical properties, a simple catalyst for my own strength.

This, of course, was false.

Pulsing just the right amount of magic into the shaft, I began to burn away the enchantment that bound the lance to it’s current form. The sheer power that began radiating from it and myself pushed me off the ground, thick waves of white magical energy beating into the very fabric of the world around myself. 

Amdusias, being a demon, noticed the immense flow of magic. A shame, I thought. I would have liked to put the mewling babe out of it’s misery a moment sooner. I felt ice begin to cover my thoughts, smothering my more reserved self in preparation for cruelty. It began to charge at me with lumbering but quick steps, waddling with some sort of terrible and almost comical purpose.

Sarisa took that as a cue to buy me a bit more time. She leapt forward and between it’s crackling legs, enchanting her wire with the properties of water and shredding a large chunk of flesh from Amdusias’ right calf in the process. It tottered in the aftermath, but it’s own ruinous power restored the missing flesh to it’s weeping state as Amdusias simply fell backwards in an attempt to crush Sarisa. Solidifying the air behind her with magic, she pushed off it with her legs, darting from underneath the demon’s improvised body slam.

Harrying him with a flurry of lightning fast slashes, Sarisa’s footwork was poetry in motion. She danced like a ballerina, dodging and weaving even as the oppressive heat from her opponent caused sweat to bead on her forehead. I found myself captivated, even as I unraveled the last few threads of the spell on my slaying spear. It’s form both expanded and contracted at the same time, reforging itself into something altogether new and old, losing the luster of metal and gaining the brightness of sunlight. Wisps of magic trailed from behind it’s form, brilliant and pure. I surrendered myself to it’s 

This lance was the crystallization of the [Concept of Slaying with a Spear], Rhongomyniad. My father told me when he allowed me to duel him for it that it started as a spear forged from a white ore found in a meteorite, meant for a king of men in ancient times. With no special power of it’s own at it’s conception, it nonetheless tore a bloody path of victory through history, finding it’s way into the hands of heroes such as King Arthur before coming into the possession of the Culaine family. He mused that perhaps the ore it was forged with was particularly receptive to the psychic emanations of humanity, allowing it to permutate it’s own existence into the [Concept of Slaying with a Spear].

That would mean that for millennia, the concepts and emotions aimed at this weapon were “that weapon is going to kill me.” “That weapon is going to slay me.” It had no choice but to become what it was. 

With it’s form bared before the demon Amduisas, it seemed to howl against the nightmare’s own trumpeting roars, drowning out all of the sound. Sarisa whipped the water-enchanted wire across Amdusias’ face, carving a new line for the lava to pour forth before it healed. She retreated immediately, even before Amduisas began belch miasma and hellfire forth. She could feel what was coming.

I rose higher into the air, taking aim with Rhongomyniad. Aiming straight for where the titanic infant’s heart would be, I flung the spear with earthshattering force. With a speed so fast it appeared to teleport, the very air split in a sonic boom as Rhongomyniad struck true, spearing the so-called Duke of Hell Amduisas through it’s molten heart. It’s screams transmuted into music, it roared and cried it’s majestic pain, but it wasn’t over.

Light blossomed in the air around Amduisas, and a countless number of slender lances speared the demon time and time again, chunks of flesh and molten lava flying from it’s ravaged form, burning smoking craters in the earth. This was the total destruction of a strike from Rhongomyniad. I smiled to myself and descended from my lofty perch, sure of my victory.

That was my mistake, I suppose.

It’s body bubbled and shifted, spitting out my spear at a speed comparable to my throw. I barely managed to sidestep it, coating my hand in a layer of frost as I caught it. Being in the demon’s body had increased it’s temperature to somewhere nearly unbearable.

As it’s form was rendered inchoate, it began to melt away, only to reform into something quite more...manageable. Where a colossal and wailing child had been before, a somewhat aged man in a grey pinstriped suit now stood, seemingly untouched and unperturbed. His black hair was slicked back and peppered with a touch of grey. A thin mustache lined his upper lip, expertly manicured. His eyes retained the same coal-like quality, but now seemed to shine with a fatherly warmth. With a smile, his teeth were revealed to be immaculate in shape and a riotous red in colour, as if he’d spent the afternoon gorging himself on raspberries. A white unicorn’s head was emblazoned upon his breast pocket, replete with a fiery mane.

“That hurt, son.”

Amduisas, Duke of the Second Layer and master of music, expressed his displeasure in a tone that said “buddy, I’m not angry. I’m just disappointed.”

Sarisa had already made her way to my side. She was covered in soot and blood, but the blood wasn’t her’s. Relief washed over me at that simple fact.

“Did he really...survive that?” 

Her voice was quiet, laced with a fear I wasn’t used to. 

It made my blood boil.

This man. 

Ah, this man that was never a man.

This [Dream of a Father’s Song].

The trees had begun to sway, despite the lack of wind. 

The air began to howl, a symphony of unearthly music emanating from the thing before us.

Something wicked walked this Earth.

[baskervilleangel]

Nativity, A Lovely Night

“There they stood — against all the great goods, the unholy evils, saints, devils, Fate, and the Gods themselves, they made their own choice and they won. They chose family above all else. They chose love and affection, over hatred and bitterness. With that choice, they also helped those who didn’t have a family or people to love them. Isn’t that really the entire point of life?” — The False Angel of Mercy

The night was cold, long, and exceptionally extreme for the two women. The last few hours of the night were spent getting to know one another in the comfort and safety of Jules’ hideout. In all manner of weird ways Vierabrït continuously changed her hairstyle, varying between quirky and eccentric, she was interested in trying something new.

While Vierabrït played around, Jules took the time to shower and clear her porcelain skin of the blood and dirt that clung to it. They were safe for now and gifted with small pleasantries which alleviated some of the tension of the world, a shower was simply one of those pleasantries. It took her just short of a half hour to tidy herself. When she emerged from the bathroom her appearance was softer, less of a dismayed survivor.

There was a sleek shine to her raven-black hair. It flowed in slight waves and contrasted perfectly with her glowing, ivory reminiscent skin. Her eyes, which were framed perfectly by long lashes, seemed to have been made in Heaven. They were light, silver-green in color, and adorned with the markings that painted her eyes. They moved and locked onto Vierabrït who was continuing her activities in an absent minded daze. The witch could not help but smile — and her smile was full of dynamite.

And while she watched Vierabrït, she started to laugh a hearty laugh at every new hairstyle the Lockwood thought was beautiful or perfect. After the fourth hairstyle, Jules took it upon herself to freshen up the mysterious enigma that had started to call “friend”.

“All right, come here, V.” Jules insisted and motioned for Vierabrït to sit in between her legs.

Vierabrït wasted no time and eagerly complied with her friend. With a balletic skip, Vierabrït moved and sat on the floor right in front of Jules. Unfortunately, she had sat facing Jules and had to be turned around. In a rather delightful way, Vierabrït hummed the tune of “Holy Diver”, it was yet another song on Jules’ mix tape that Vierabrït fell in love with.

“Hey, I think it’d be better if I moved your bangs out of your face. What do you think, V?” Jules questioned.

“Mhm!” Vierabrït looked back and flashed her signature smile, it was apparent that she agreed with the witch.

The witch wasted no time once she obtained the confirmation. She grabbed a tuft of Vierabrït’s silky periwinkle hair and moved it backwards. The light that now shined upon Vierabrït’s face forced her pupils to constrict in a moderate way. The dried dirt and blood that covered her face was now more apparent than ever. It highlighted not just a deceptive savagery, but also her willingness to survive and protect her new friend.

In the midst of her hair styling Vierabrït decided that now may be a good time to read the family bestiary. She rummaged through her satchel for a bit then pulled out her very own bestiary. It had a periwinkle color to it and was adorned with sapphire like gems that sat neatly into the leather like material. Gliding her bloodstained hand across the brittle pages of the book she opened up to a random page and began reading in a quiet whisper. With small patters Vierabrït drummed against the page with her long finger, almost as if she was waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Jules, who had peaked over the girl’s shoulder, observed the pages of the book with great curiosity. The language that was written upon the crumbling pages was entirely foreign, unique in design even. Upon first glance, some of the words and letters were similar to Romanian or Moldavian; with another glance it was similar to Russian or Ukrainian.

“What Language is that?” Jules questioned yet again.

“I… I don’t know,” Vierabrït responded with a hint of sadness in her voice. “It never had a name. For the first few centuries of my life it has been the only language I have ever known.”

Once again, Jules was reminded that Vierabrït had a rather secluded life devoid of contact or any major social interactions outside that of her family, of course. Vierabrït hadn’t even known what Music was until a few hours ago. Nearly immediately, sadness dissipated and was replaced with an intense determination. Vierabrït was filled with this feeling, eagered to close the gap between the two of them.

“Its talking about me if you were curious! Maica wrote it just for me!” Vierabrït erupted in a confident demeanor.

“Its about you? Can you read it out loud? I’ve been wondering what you are…” Jules voice became low, she wanted to understand and learn.

“I ams friend! I can show you what it says too!” Vierabrït exclaimed and pulled off one of the flower petals that were bound to the page by wax. “Since Maica is traveling the otherworld, and the real one, she attached these rose petals to some of the pages of our bestiaries. They’re covered with her blood and her power so that we can hear her read them to us. Don’t worry, friend, she speaks the english. There are lots of nice pictures too!” Vierabrït continued on to say and handed her one of the rose petals.

“So this Maica… who are they?”

“My parent! I haven’t met her, but I am told she is best!”

“You have two mothers? That is pretty cool.” Jules responded, simply enjoying her time learning about Vierabrït.

It took about ten minutes for Jules to finish styling Vierabrït’s hair. Her hair was now swept back and held together by three braids which mingled perfectly with her straight hair. Jules held up a mirror which made Vierabrït smile incredibly wide.

“Thank you!!!” Vierabrït shouted intensely and hugged Jules.

“Its fine, V, really!” Jules spoke trying to separate her face from Vierabrït’s.

Vierabrït had eventually pulled away from the witch and narcissistically stared at her brand new hairstyle. While Vierabrït admired her friend’s handiwork Jules stared intently at the blood stained rose petal that was placed inbetween her two fingers. A violent and malignant energy radiated off of it, much like the feeling that Vierabrït gave off, yet far darker.

Cruelty. Unreasonable sadism. It was a sensation that could only truthfully be described as “evil”. In all honesty, it frightened Jules. She cocked an eyebrow towards Vierabrït and stared from the corner of her painted eyes.

“V,” Jules called out to Vierabrït. The Lockwood’s head snapped to Jules with an exquisite flourish of her periwinkle hair. Round lavender eyes met with Jules’ jade like eyes. “What the hell are you?” Jules continued in a rather grim tone.

Vierabrït quickly shifted her attention to the rose petal then back up to Jules’ eyes. Widely Vierabrït grinned and quickly raised her eyebrows, urging the witch.

“Eat and you will see!” She twirled, once again flourishing her new hair style.

Jules was a woman who had not trusted easily; as such, she was exceptionally hesitant. Especially with this feeling of dread that lingered from both, her new friend, and this bloodstained flower petal. But against that — against all the warning signs and red flags, she felt a sense of trust from Vierabrït. A compulsion to believe and trust her friend, and so she had.

With a sigh, and a quick motion, she ingested the Rose petal. In a single instant, shorter than the blink of an eye, darkness began to fall upon her. It was a temporary blindness that befell her, and with it came a fear that she had never known.

“Three vials of blood, manipulated by self righteous foolishness.” A menacing and feminine lilting voice spoke to Jules. It was an accent that the witch could place, yet it was different from Vierabrït’s. “Seven shillings tossed to the whims of fate. Five beasts born of blood and evil across endless millennia.”

While the voice spoke baleful visages stormed her mind and besieged her sight. She saw three vials of blood that were spilled against the ground. The seven shillings, which were marked by that very same blood, cutting through the air. Then finally, she saw them. Eyes emanating an iridescent glow from the darkness that was just out of her reach. Above those eyes, reaching into the clouds, was a woman dressed in red observing the witch beyond the napalm skies.

All of this faded in the same obscuring darkness that had initially drenched her, and once again her sight was robbed from her. Then, like before, vision returned to her; but it was not her own. She saw a place she had never been and moved about without her say so. This place, this home, was comprised of neglected wooden floors, and filled with glass bottles in odd shapes. Baubles that adorned the walls alongside tapestries and paintings of people she had never known. If she didn’t know better, she would assume them as witches things.

When she had reached the bathroom she realized that she was not in her own body. But someone entirely foreign, much like the dwelling she had been forced to explore. This woman stared at the mirror and back at Jules from the reflection of the mirror.

In attire this woman was highly similar to Jules. She wore a black long-sleeved henley which fit her form perfectly. The sleeves were somewhat long and covered the back of her hands. Jules could even make out the dirtied black Jeans the woman had wore. It wasn’t until the woman spoke that Jules discovered her identity.

“Vierabrït, the gentlest and kindest of my children, I hope you are well, my darling.” The woman crossed her arms and gave a smile without baring her white fangs. “I have a present for you, I’ll put it in your bestiary when I deliver it. I want you and your elder sister to put them on only in the most desperate of situations… I know I can’t be there with you and your mother right now. But, I’m going to answer a few questions; some that may have been plaguing you for quite some time. The first, and most important thing, is that you are what is called a “Tribrid”. Like me, you are part Lycian. Like your mother and I, you are Bloodborne — well, Ţânкомар to be exact. Then finally, when you come of age, you will awaken the third part of you. Maybe that part of you will be a Primera, or maybe a Sabaoth like your mother. Who knows, maybe you’ll even be a Paradigma like me. I want you to know that with your immortal life you can choose to walk the path I treaded upon, or even your mother — or you can make your own. You have so many choices and we’re no longer bound by a twisted fate. I want you to know something else…” She paused for a brief moment, and moved her hand to wipe away the tears that pooled in her eyes.

“I’ll be there soon, I promise you that. And no matter what choice you make — I will always love you. I cannot wait to see the woman you grew up to be.”

Despite the evil Jules has felt from these two, she could not help but feel sad for them. When Vierabrït’s mother, Viola, placed her two fingers upon her lips then the mirror Jules understood then. Vierabrït’s demeanor, her kindness and jubilation, was no act. She had not feigned any of this. In fact, she understood something far more important. The Lockwoods, Vierabrït’s family, were evil by nature, but chose a different path. They chose another way, and that was the most important thing.

The disheartening images dwindled back to the gloom they came from, and the world transitioned back to the one Jules had known — and loathed. Vierabrït hovered over Jules’ face, a bit to close for comfort even. Apparently, Jules had collapsed during her trip into Viola’s memories.

“Oh good! I thought I unalived you!” Vierabrït said cheerfully and lifted Jules off the ground and back onto her.

“I have more questions than answers but I think I understand you more, in some weird magical way.” Jules looked at Vierabrït for a moment, a bit tired from the psychological strain, then she did something incredibly out of character. Without warning, Jules pulled her friend into a hug and held her in a tight embrace.

“Thank you. For being my friend, and saving my life — twice.”

“Its okay, friend! You ams good friend.” Vierabrït wasn’t confused by the sudden change in Jules demeanor. In fact, she hugged the witch back as delicately as she could.

“I could just be tired, but I think I actually understood that.”

Jules yawned a bit and rubbed her eyes before she pulled away from Vierabrït. A moment later, Jules found herself lumbering back to her bass, staggering all the way. It didn’t take long for the witch to find her way back to the couch so she could relax and play her bass. When Jules yawned again five minutes later Vierabrït responded in a rather adorable way.

“You should assault the straw!” Vierabrït’s wide round eyes locked onto Jules’ as she spoke. Just as soon as Jules thought she had a decent understanding of Vierabrït’s vocabulary she quickly found herself confused once again.

“I should what?” Jules asked and glanced up at Vierabrït. The sound that emanated from her bass came to an immediate halt.

“You should assault the straw!” She repeated, believing that Jules hadn’t heard her. In all reality, Jules was asking for clarity instead of the same question. “You know? Sleep. As you mortals often do.” Vierabrït continued. When she had, Jules immediately understood what Vierabrït was trying to say.

“Hay.” Jules responded to correct the young Vierabrït’s vocabulary.

“Oh, hey!” Vierabrït responded excitedly, believing now that Jules was trying to greet her for some odd reason.

“The saying is “Hit the hay” not “Assault the straw”, V.” Jules sighed and chuckled a bit. Spending time with Vierabrït was actually something that she subtly enjoyed.

Before long, and quite unexpected, Jules had fallen asleep, a much needed reprieve from the endless adventure that awaited them just beyond the wooden doors. Vierabrït, who had not needed to sleep, stayed up and listened to Jules’ mixtape.

After an hour or two she began to wonder what sleep was like. She had never done it, but she knew she was capable of it. She had never dreamed, nor had a nightmare. So, she snuggled up next to Jules, who had instinctively embraced the Lockwood, and attempted to fall asleep.

There they laid, bidding farewell to the distorted stars, and waited for the break of dawn with new understanding of one another. For the first time ever, Vierabrït dreamed of something spectacular. A world without monsters, evil nor fear. Only her friend and her family, living their best lives.

[thesweetblossoms]

Conversations at Night

🎹Last week, a newly immigrated Jordanian Uber driver, Omar, drove me to work, he mentioned that he studied Arabic literature and was curious about by name. When I told him, it was indeed an Arabic word, chosen by my father, he readily shared his research and knowledge, to tell me more about its meaning. He relayed to me that the name derives from one of the oldest tribes in the Arabian desert, that the root word means hardworking as well intelligent. Although I had known that my name meant, intelligence, since I was a little girl, after learning the actual root word, “Sammar”, I researched further, discovering it also means “conversations at night”. This is such a haunting meaning, since I often think and write at night, and it pleasing to think that my name might indeed be a self fulfilling prophecy.

If I were to list seven elements that contribute to a women’s appeal, that carry the impression of compelling, interesting and unforgettable femininity, that strengthen a ladies ability to exert a magnetic pull, sex appeal, as well as attraction, my list would include grace, intelligence, wit, confidence, imagination, style and vision. For each dispenses the charms, extracts the best elements and leaves faint traces of the women’s soul into the atmosphere she inhabits and colors all her encounters.

A graceful women is one that may be counted on to examine the hand she has been given and find the only way to play would be to create, envision and design, a charming, memorable and beautiful life. She would notice that a hand painted thank you note and homemade lemon zested madeleines would be a happy gift to send to an elementary school teacher, or a message to an author, after reading a book may increase the power of both written and unwritten works, or that dealing with multiple obligations yet remaining unfazed is the key to carrying out each endeavor well. A graceful women is often a reliable friend, somebody who has kindness and strength to spare,

who is generous and open hearted in providing ideas, advice, new ways of thinking, perspectives and insights that open channels, clarifying problems, dilemmas or troubles. By confronting issues with a high level of ability, sharpness, composure and calm, she inspires faith in outcomes as well as a sense of security in others, for she reminds us, that the universe readily furnishes us with necessary tools and the awakened among us may cannily use these to create gardens, or start companies, write books, raise children or steadfastly and relentlessly chase any dream.

Intelligence is an irreplaceable tool in a women’s arsenal. While appearances satisfy many evolutionary prerogatives, people are often attracted to the components of a persons personality, character and energy. Thus ones ability to think, to make connections, to gain and use knowledge, to envision new and different worlds, to find patterns, to look minutely at details, to be able to grasp the universal horizons, to simplify the blinking space between birth and death, to detect humor or to ideate a world without pain and suffering, may be intoxicating to others, just as newly opened ivory roses, are to an orchid pink desert hummingbird.

The wittiness factor adds a sparkle to drifting breezes, ticking minutes and to the light filled hours of experience, for any encounter is more pleasurable when the conversation is amusing, interesting and articulate. The epitome for wit may be Jane Austen’s, Elizabeth Bennet, a heroine that is able to duel with the most bedeviling of men, who is able to enchant all around her with her kindness, intelligence and passion. For eons, I thought that being witty meant the ability to think fast and return a volley with ferocity and brilliance, yet it may actually embody a larger context, as being witty may be a certain kind of sensitivity, of knowing the correct words to appease a tense situation, perhaps with a gentle surrender, or a thoughtful offer, or it may be the priceless skill, at a dinner party or even, an attorneys break room setting, perchance, to extract the most vivacity from another person. A witty disposition unleashes the exuberant and sardonic ability to ascertain the humor inherent, even within the bitterest of dilemmas and unsavory intervals, it persuades the sleepiest of senses to savor the intrinsic qualities of reality, of the funny, cute and precious elements of quickly changing and developing children, or of noting the romantic opportunities of lounging in candlelight, when the power goes out, or in taking rain showered tree and blossom perfumed walks in less crowded sidewalks, or of knowing that what is truly relevant is how much you laughed, or lingered in beauty or dwelled in love.

Confidence is a narcotic quality, it opens ones experience to manifest the most fruitful results. It relies on an innate sense of place, an ability to see through many of the artificial blocks that prevent us from enjoying the present. I am awed at the way certain individuals carry themselves, the plus size models, or the plainly dressed and unassuming tech founders, or little children who have not been conditioned to compare themselves to media and cultural archetypes. Confidence arises from a comprehension of the value that one may add to the situation, knowing that the simplest gestures may tint the quietest hours, or even the most hectic ones, it is the calling card of the person, who introduces themselves and gains a new friend, or the individual that sweeps aside other peoples narrow viewpoint by example, or who seldom worries about how the audience regards them, as long as they adhere to high principals, values and modes of conduct.

Creating imaginary worlds, or parallel dimensions is a satisfying and alluring anecdote to navigating life in our present form. Therefore, a wild, creative, whimsical, exuberant, fantastical, energetic, ephemeral or any other type of imagination allows us to wonder into other realms that may exist in the vastness of eternity, like invisible moons, beguiling us unawares. An imagination could spark an ambrosial love affair, by sensing possibility in a potential partner, despite the blindingly obvious shortcomings, leading one on a romantic journey that could be thrilling despite the gaping variance from previous amorous notions. Or it could lead one to design and create an incandescent and disarmingly magnificent garden, laden with peach hydrangea, royal purple forget me nots, green tea dogwood blossoms, pink sapphire peonies and a hanging rope swing, knotted to a stately fairy light strung oak tree, to softly glide upon, while caressed by honeysuckle perfumed drifts, lashings of tenderness from ripening pink moons and lulling gold silk threaded clouds. It could create worlds that linger in our shared literary world, enthralling readers over generations with indelible characters and themes, such as J.M Barries, Peter Pan, or A Midsummers Nights Dream by William Shakespeare. An unfettered imagination could birth an enthusiastic and charming story about a mischievous giraffe in Paris, or a lonely starfish who longs to escape the coral reefs, or a striking, haunting and unforgettable love story set in the English countryside.

Words are more permanent than thoughts, as thoughts dissipate unerringly into the atmosphere, so just as writing encodes symbolic meaning, accelerates and defines the future as well as leaves greater tangible traces than musings alone, personal style is also an imprint of ones personality into reality. Sometimes the simplest ideas beguile me, the idea that a dress as ephhermal as a chiffon piece protects, shelters and conceals us from the part of reality that is separate from our selves, yet also exists as a work of art, or that how we dress impacts our energy, attitudes and moods, wearing floral patterns reminds us of the healing potential of nature, a black studded dress advertises that we must not be trifled with, or a nude halter silk dress evinces a desire for frivolity, sensuality and celebration. My thoughts often dwell upon an inking, an ominous sensation or a persistent thought cloud, that there is scare time as well as opportunity, to express myself to the farthest limits of possibility, to sit quietly to read and think about manifold subjects that render illumination, or even to savor the wondrous scenes occurring across time and space, as it entails a sacrifice of other pressing matters to notice, contemplate and mull the mysterious unfurling of the hours. I feel this way especially poignantly regarding style, that there isn’t enough time to wear the clothes that have come across my path, that I may not have adequate chances to choose different earrings to compliment my outfits or wear lovely shoes that would enhance a carefully chosen scarf. Just as the way an exquisite platinum ring sets of a twinkling emerald gem, this dearth of time influences me to both savor as well as thoughtfully consider the ritual of dressing in the morning for work, or selecting a caramel and gold beaded party dress to wear for a date night, or collecting another white cotton dress to linger in the garden.

Ones vision far exceeds the artifices and false boxes of sex, status or upbringing as vision is an element of our soul, it is a masterful and ecstatic gift, one that many lucky people possess, yet only to squander it in half sleepy lives, leaving a handful to scale the heights of awareness, or risk the temptations of insanity, topple precariously over the edges of reason as great visual artists such as Vincent Van Gogh, Claude Monet or Georgia O Keefe. For vision is a subtle ecstasy, enabling us to be charmed by overwhelmingly gorgeous vistas such as lilac clouded rainforests in Costa Rica, or Balinese, glimmering beach temples, a misty pine tree cove in Vancouver, a small town waterfall in Connecticut with groves of blossoming plum trees, a hilly glade ripe with nigella, cosmos, asters and lace flowers in Colorado, a moonshot Taj Mahal with night blooming jasmine and tuberose, a concealed hydrangea, rose and clematis ivy and moss draped reading bench in a garden in Cotswalds, or a white chiffon gown and black tie soirée at the Hall of Mirrors at the Versailles. Yet, the boundless gift of vision includes the ability to create imaginary worlds, perhaps, the talent to create a Parisian rooftop soirée with pink champagne, piano music, shadows of darkness and light, a setting for an overture, for the mischievous heiress in a backless black silk dress with emerald earrings, and the tall, captivating, yet, impecunious gentlemen in a patched up tweed jacket, both, serenaded by the musical notes and lilac dusk breezes floating over pooled pillar candles, strung Japanese lanterns, multiple riveting conversations and hinting at a momentous rendezvous, by star struck water fountains in the rose gardens below. But, vision unwavering burnishes the magic of the ordinary, common place or even mundane, like a spell or incantation, it charms us when we are at leisure, maybe, when we see the tiny spiders performing gymnastics over the blossoming tomatillo plants, or the shadowy outline of cosmos on the pavement, or a black thrasher bird feather, of the slowly whirling pink grasses in the inundating light.

During a spell of neglecting to refill my hummingbird feeders with handmade nectar, I diverted my spare time to planting seeds, fertilizing and watering my garden consistently. On Saturday afternoon, while lazying in the balcony garden with cups of Irish coffee, I noticed a hummingbird fly into the covered garden with pots of jasmine, tuberose, black eyed Susan’s, flowering basil, cosmos, roses, sweet alyssum and Mexican sunflowers, and sip greedily from the roses and cosmos before flying away. I was bewitched by the sight, realizing how much I miss seeing the fast beating whizzing petite birds visit my garden, yet enthralled that by growing flowers they may still frequent my space and imbibe in the nectar they find therein.

By looking again, more carefully, calmly, methodically at the possessions we already have concealed away in delicate pouches or miniscule ceramic bowls, or barely holding up in creased envelopes in oyster pink Prada purses, we might be delighted, intrigued and captivated by what we discover. I recently took out my Elsa Peretti teardrop necklace out and considered the fragile silver chain and the evocative shape of a single drop of water, borne of insidious joy or recalcitrant sorrow. I hadn’t worn it for many years as there were two tiny knots in the chain that I couldn’t untangle and was too busy to take to Tiffany's to repair. Yet, once I took it out again, with a degree of maturity or skill that is the gift of growing older, I was able to focus on the minuscule tangles and unknot them slowly with concentration and patience. With the years, we gain talents, perspectives and abilities that are not immediately apparent. So it is with pleasure that I wear my long ago acquired and conscientious stored necklace, hoping it charms the seductive flow and cadence of the present time, to symbolize our physical ability to transform energy when we cry and to take the tears and alchemize it to realms of imagination, wonder and beauty.

Often during breaks between work, I succumbs to islands of fancy and I scribble shards of fancy and nonsense; I seek alchemy in every leaf and discover magic in every blossom, I leave secrets in the open meadows and plant revelations under the shadows of cedar trees, I traipse into comedies in the coffee beaned darkness and escape tragedies in the mirrored light, I linger in the borders between moments, in the beats between the notes and the spaces between the lines.

One is able to measure the healing quotient of a house by the vibrancy and the lushness of its plant inhabitants. I am aware of this co-relation, whenever I enter a space with emerald, jade, arsenic green, oyster or polka dotted pink, or hues of deep Provençal lavender, that appear content, peaceful, well tended, happily imbibing light showers, fending off the dusty cadence of windows, rising tenuously, joyously or even arrogantly from black pearled soil, that itself, is verdant, sufficiently hydrated, evidently fertile, and with lilting stems that have been either left to its own devices, or that been thoughtfully sculpted with the gardeners hands with a pair of much used, oiled and sharpened bonsai scissors. There is a tangible loving energy that emanates from these spaces, where the subtlest creatures are cared for and honored. For our lives are akin to sheafs of fragilely stroked watercolor botanical paintings, tied loosely with a nude pink silk ribbon, each offering a daily experiment in alchemy, practiced, by cutting off a branch to allow another, greater access to light and air, or by gently pulling off dried leaves, so that another might sprout from the green stem below, or to take a flourishing limb from one plant to embed into another pot so that it may root and create an independent plant. These houseplants allow us to deepen our connection to nature, to entwine with it unwavering flow, recklessly, by attempting to manipulate and control living entities, by inviting other species and personalities into our midst, by examining the visible patterns, arcs, shapes, forms and manifestations of botanicals, to attempt to understand its quiet language and to bind ourselves to them, within our own scant hours, upon this pale dot, that is planted itself, by some unknown gardener, into eternal space.

Spend the day looking at the shadows and the night looking at the stars. For there is magic and mystery in the hidden spaces that the illumination conceals, while there are truths, beyond the blatant solar flares that the softly lit moon shyly gives away. I linger in the early November breezes while the crescent moons silver filters indolently through a congress of palm tree leaves, into my Paris cup of chamomile tea. I lull in the lantana, basil, chrysanthemum, rose, tuberose, orange leaf and jasmine perfume. I am soothed by the abstract and bewitching melodies of the wind chimes, the song of the flowing water in the fountain, of old memories lingering within the fabric, weavings and leaves; of the faded firoza, mustard and cream kantha blanket, ivory paint chipped rattan chair and the new marigold plants. These ameliorate the current time, by reminding me of my grandparents garden, as a little girl, even though, the textures, fragrances and lyrics are carefully, and irreversibly separated, by a handful of decades from my contemplations, here, bathed in the heady new moon and the gently biting desert winter winds. But perhaps, there is more to consider, for garden perfumes, night nectar chasing moths, fluttery eucalyptus branches and the tricks of the heavenly bodies, might allow frames to shift and flirt unbeknownst with each other.

Can you hear the wondering butterfly and the prancing bee, whispering gently through the lavender breezes, follow me, follow me? 🌊

[3tinkgemini]

Caroline: “So I’ve got good news and bad news.” Klaus: “Well, what is the good news?” Caroline: “I will never do it again!”

                                         ALL THINGS MIKAELSON. 

Caroline smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles off her kneelength blue dress hoping her clammy hands didn’t leave behind any watermarks.The blue brought out the darker shades in her eyes and was one of Klaus’sfavorite color on her, coming in at a close second to- as he liked to say- theflushing hue he brought out of her well satisfied body. Which is why she choseit.

 After leaving Kol- who had flashed off faster than she couldblink to get a head start in the opposite direction than his brother- she scaledup the wall of her apartment building and ducked in the open terrace window.Her blood soaked and tattered clothes went straight into the garbage. Cringingas she passed the mirror in her bathroom at the healing wounds that covered herbody and her ratty hair filled with twigs, leaves and bloody globs of things she’drather not think about. She hurried through a thorough cleaning and primping tomake herself look her best.

 She’d need every advantage she could get.

 Chewing on her tongue in an effort to steel her nerves, andnot bite her lip and ruin her lipstick, she stared at the front door to theMikaelson home wondering why Klaus hadn’t opened the door even though shehadn’t knocked yet. He always had this sixth sense about when she was aroundhim, leaving it difficult for her to surprise him. Either he was anticipatingtheir date for the evening and wanted to draw out the anticipation or the moredreaded idea, he had somehow found out about what she and Kol had gotten into, againsthis expressed wishes, and was livid with her and just drawing out her agony.

 Sucking in a deep breath she quickly rapped on the doorbefore she let her nerves guide her and took off after Kol in hopes that Klauswould take it out on him before turning to her. She hated herself for eventhinking such a thing.

 She heard his overly measured steps as he made his way tothe door, wracking her nerves up even higher. The slow heavy steps gave awaynothing of who would greet her once the door opened. Would he be the Hybrid ofMystic Falls? Luring her in with a false sense of security, ready to lash outat a moments notice? Or would he be the man she had come to know here in NewOrleans? The man who was still that same Hybrid and yet so much more to her.Lover, confidant, friend. Boyfriend? They had yet to decide on a title fortheir relationship. He liked to call her, Mine. She sometimes liked to callhim, domineering jack-ass but also felt Mine was an excellent choice.

 With her mind now wandering down the familiar path of just whatthey were to each other and how to explain it to others, she missed the instantthe door handle turned and the door opened.

 His reverent inhale drew her attention back to the moment athand.

 “You look exquisite, Caroline.”

 They way he all but worshiped her name, no matter how manytimes he said it, still had the power to send shivers down her spine.

 Lover, confidant, boyfriend-type it was then, she thoughtwith a genuine smile before reality slammed home and she had to force the smileto stay in place. This won’t last forlong.

 Klaus frowned, as always, picking up on her changes of moodbefore she could try and hide them. He motioned her into the house, his eyesand senses scanning the area for an impending threat before deeming it safe andclosing the door behind them.

 “You wouldn’t be cancelling our plans for the evening, wouldyou? I know Miss Bennett is in town but it was you who explained the importanceof couples having a date night. If I recalled correctly it was my newest canvasyou took over and turned into a full out color coded diagram.”

 She chuckled at the memory and how they had promised toalways leave all the outside drama at the door and spend one night a weekfocusing on just each other. She caught the guarded heat in his eyes as theyboth remembered just how that promise was made- naked and covered in paint, “AndI seem to recall that canvas mysteriously disappeared afterwards. Although,”she tapped her chin with a hint of a smirk, “I think I might have caught sightof it hidden in your personal All-Things-Caroline shrine you think I don’t knowabout.”

 The blush that stole over his cheeks warmed her heart.Though she hated that guarded look in his eyes, as if he was trying to hold hisemotions in check, in fear of her canceling their plans. Always still fearfullythat she would wise up and leave him. His words, not her own.

 Smiling softly she shook her head, “I’m not cancelling. Noteven thinking about it.” She cringed slightly even as his breath left him is a relievedrush. He might want to cancel though,once he found out what she had been up to earlier.

 Klaus narrowed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest,his voice tight with suspicion, “Then what has you looking as if you might fleeat a moments notice. Even more curious, you’re dressed as if we have a night onthe town ahead of us when I clearly recall we chose to stay in this evening fora quiet dinner and a movie in bed. Something tells me you won’t be comfortablewearing such an adorable outfit while cuddled in said bed so that only leavesthe option that you are trying to butter me up.”

 Her lips curved into her most dazzling smile as shefluttered her lashes, “Is it working?”

 “Caroline.”

 His growl of her name brought shivers of a different sort asit spoke of his irritation and waning patience with her.

 “Okay. Okay.” Caroline sighed deflated, “So I’ve got goodnews and bad news.”

 Having the sinking feeling their night was going to end inshambles after he heard what she had to say, he opted to try her optimisticapproach in lieu of his typical rage first and ask questions later, “Well, whatis the good news?”

  “I will never do itagain!” Caroline announced with a firm nod of her head.

Klaus blinked, then blinked again. His mind drawing a blankat what she could possibly mean before catching onto the fact that if this was all she had for good news healmost dreaded what the bad news would be.

 Gritting his teeth and keeping his arms firmly folded andlocked against his chest to keep himself from doing anything rash, likebreaking every item in the room around them. He would never hurt her, but many a priceless knick-knackhad fallen victim in her place, he snarled, “The bad news?”

 She nibbled her lower lip with her teeth, her body swayinglike a willow tree in the breeze as she ambled back and forth in front of him,her eyes flitting from his face to the floor, back to his face and down to hertwisting hands as she spoke.

 All of it signs that what she had to say would push him tohis limits.

“So I met with Kol for brunch today. And, well, lunch turnedinto drinks which turned into more drinks. And you know how Kol and I get, weplay some darts, we play some pool and then we have our little vent-sessionsabout All-Things-Mikaelson.”

 Klaus kept his jaw clenched shut, offering her no more thana sharp nod of his head.

 In the beginning of their relationship he had hated how hisyounger brother would whisk his girlaway, calming Caroline as his very bestestfriend ever. Bloody fights had ensued until Caroline too claimed Kol asher, the thought still made Klaus want to gag, bestest friend ever. Explaining to him how Kol was her safe placeto vent about all things Mikaelson asshe was to him. That had only sent him into a red haze of rage, feeling he wasnot enough for her until she had drug him upstairs and into his room to showhim just how good he was for her. In the peaceful lull of the aftermath oftheir passions she drew nonsensical patterns on his chest as she explainedsoftly.

 “Rebekah is still toocompetitive with me when it comes to you for her and I to really be friends. Idon’t know anyone else here Klaus, and Bonnie is the only friend I have left,that talks to me anyways. But she’s not here. And Kol, in his own weird way, wantsme as a friend. He listens to me anddoesn’t judge me for anything! In fact, he has always, even when he bad mouthsyou, encouraged me to make things work between you and I. He says even thoughyou’re still a world class asshole, I make you less of tyrant.”

 His lip had poutedagainst his control, his voice showing enough of his insecurities making himcringe, “I though I was your friend.”

 Her soft understandingsmile had soothed his upset in an instant, “You are so much more than my friend Klaus. But still, you have people, Elijah,Marcel and even Josh, though you don’t like to admit that last one. Kol and I,we don’t have anyone else. Plus haven’t you seen how…tamer, for lack of abetter term, Kol has been since we’ve been hanging out? He’s able to talk to mewithout worry of my looking down on him or trying to corral him like you andElijah like to do. Besides, if you and I are going to have any chance of makingthis relationship healthy and work, I need at least one of your siblings tolike me enough to stand up for me against the others.”

 That had been the first time she acknowledged they were morethan just friends-with-benefits. The first she had claimed them to be in a realrelationship. Just the thought of the agonizingly slow love they had made afterstill had the power to drop him to his knees.

 But not this time. In the split second he had reminiscedafter nodding his head, he maintained control of himself, much to Caroline’sblatant disappointment.

 Sighing she continued, “Yeah, so, um, we got todrunk-venting earlier than usual. Me snapping about how you won’t just let meprove myself to certain local factions who seem to always want to use me asyour own person bait. Kol slurring and raving how if I could take you on then Icould take on anyone, with him at my side of course.” Caroline wisely left outthe part when Kol had deemed himself to be the strongest Mikaelson as shewatched Klaus piece things together. His face going from red to pale, angry tofearful as his eyes skated over her body in search of injuries long sincehealed.

 “You. You. You.”

 Oh shit. Caroline’s eyes widened. Klaus only stuttered likethat, his chest heaving and his golden eyes flickering in and out when he wasreally and truly pissed off.

 Whatever he found on her face must have assured him of heractions before he bellowed so loudly the crystals of the chandelier overheadshook.

 “You went after the werewolf faction set to destroy methough you?!”

 She at least had the decency to look to the floor sheepishlybefore giving him a shaky smile, “Good thing I had your blood just thismorning.” Her eyelids lowered right along with her voice, hoping and failing toentice him, “Nothing like a little blood sharing between lovers right?”

 His body vibrated with so much rage she was surprised hedidn’t drill a hole straight through the floor, “You could have been killed!”

 “But I wasn’t!” All the reasons she went after the stupidasshats who thought to use her in the first place came rushing back, “Theywouldn’t keep coming after me if you would have just let me prove myself! Proveto them and everyone who thinks to use me against you that I am not some dainty little flower, somedamsel in distress for them to kidnap and torture to get to you! I’ve told you I wasn’t going to be used likethat ever again! That I would do what I had to do to prove it. And guess whatSherlock, it worked! I had them running faster than a newborn vampire smellingits first scent of fresh blood!”

 “Did you ever think for a moment that it wasn’t that Ididn’t know you could handle yourself? That it was only because I wanted to be the one to take you? ThatI craved to go headlong into thebattlefield with you, side by side?! That I had been watching and waiting forthe opportune moment when our attackwould hit them the hardest?!”

 Tears pooled in her eyes, her shaking hand covering herquivering lips and trembling voice, “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”, draining hisanger with her instantly.

 Flashing in front of her he took her hand away from herface, brushing the back of his fingers across the smooth skin and wiping awayher tears as he spoke softly.

 “I understand more than any other your need to proveyourself to everyone. To yourself, to me. I’m upset with you yes Caroline, butnot angry. I’m disappointed to have missed seeing you in action, going againstour enemies together, but I’m sure there will be plenty of battles to come.” Hesmiled as she laughed softly in agreement. Pulling her in close he pressed hislips to her forehead, the what-if’s clamoring for his attention, “My biggestfear is losing you. You could have been captured and I wouldn’t have known, youcould have been killed and I wouldn’t have been there to stop it.”

 Her arms tightened around him, regret pouring through herbefore Klaus spoke again, this time harsher, his heated breath mussing the hairon top of her head.  

 “You survived, to which I am utterly thankful for. Kol onthe other hand will not fare as well.”

 Nothing but a burst of air announced his departure, leavingCaroline standing in shock with her arms open as if holding him still.

 “Oh shit!” She exclaimed as she whooshed to her purse on theentry table, her phone in her hands and to her ear in a flash as she rushed toher car, knowing it would be the fastest way to catch up to Klaus and where hewas undoubtedly heading, “Bonnie!” Her voice was frantic as her friend answeredthe phone and she peeled out of the driveway, “You better put a barrier in thehotel room now! Klaus is on his way.”

 A scrambling could be heard through the line before Carolinehung up, knowing her message was received, so she could concentrate on maneuveringthe winding streets towards the hotel without accidentally hitting anyone oranything in her way.

 Vaguely in the back of her mind thinking how glad she  was that Bonnie had wanted her own place tostay while in town. Not only because she didn’t want to even think of her two best friends going atit like rabbits but that the damage that would inevitably occur tonight wouldnot be in her own apartment. She was so over having to replace her thingsbecause of All-Things-Mikaelson.

  Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you enjoyed it, I loved writing it and just went with the flow. It felt so great to write about our favorite, beloved couple again! THANK YOU! Feel free to send me another if you’d like.

I’m still open for more prompts! If you or anyone has one, anything and everything, nothing is off limits! NOTHING! So long as it is Klaroline. Happy, sad, angst, smut, cute, fluffy, silly and all those in between. Hit me up in my ASK BOX!

[byterryonline]

5 Products You Need in Your French Beauty Bag

French girl beauty is about natural, clear skin with exquisitely subtle makeup. It’s an effortless look. They aren’t trying too hard to achieve a perfect appearance. It’s more about feeling and looking beautiful from the inside out, regardless of age.

What’s their secret? Ask any French woman, and she’ll likely tell you that she has an established yet simple beauty routine that works for her. It’s also likely she works with what she has and embraces the way she looks. High-quality French makeup and skincare products that she can count on are other parts of the equation. To get radiant skin and achieve a barely-there makeup look, here are five products you need in your French beauty bag.

Micellar Water Cleanser

No longer France’s best-kept secret, micellar water may be one of the best beauty products to grace the faces of American women everywhere in the last few years. While light and gentle, it’s also a powerhouse for removing even the most stubborn makeup and impurities. And it doesn’t strip the skin like traditional cleansers or soap. Micellar water is a multi tasker that’s perfect for cleansing and moisturizing in one wipe. Your face will look and feel lighter and brighter—and you don’t rinse it off after application. French luxury makeup brands know how to do it right.

Dry Oil

Another amazing French product that’s designed to carry out multiple jobs at once is a dry oil that can be applied to the face, body, and hair. Many women have been watching their mothers and grandmothers use dry oil for years. Dry oils will leave your skin feeling hydrated without a greasy feeling. Try a luxurious all-over dry oil spray made with rose oils and vitamin E to soothe sensitive skin while targeting signs of aging and improving overall texture. It’s the total 3-in-1 product for your head-to-toe well-being.

Growth Booster Mascara

Healthy skin, and wellness in general, is essential to French women, so it’s not surprising then that this philosophy extends to other aspects, including eyelashes. Caring for your lashes is an important part of a French beauty routine. Strong, healthy lashes look even more beautiful when the mascara you’re wearing is formulated to activate lash growth while delivering volume, length, and thickness. A lash growth mascara is designed to visibly transform your lashes day after day. Who needs false eyelashes when you can condition and highlight the natural lashes you have? The French woman on the go most likely has a tube of mascara in her bag.

Red Lipstick

Signature red lips are the epitome of French chic. With glowing skin, growth-boosting mascara, and a red lipstick, you have a classic and effortless look. French women aren’t afraid to try color or new things, but once they figure out what works for them, they tend to stick to the tried-and-true beauty basics, including glamorous shades of red.

Lip Balm

On days or nights when you aren’t feeling a bold lip, those gorgeous lips still need to stay hydrated with a nourishing lip balm. That stunning, French woman no doubt has a well-loved, velvety-rich lip balm on her—and you should too!

About BY TERRY

BY TERRY is an award-winning French luxury beauty brand dedicated to developing premium makeup with skincare benefits and committed to celebrating the natural French look. The brand partners with retailers such as Harrods, Self ridges, Barneys New York, and Space NK. Developed and created in France, BY TERRY’s collection contains exceptional and luxurious products. Founder Terry de Gunzburg is an industry legend who has changed the face of beauty over the past 30 years. Her mission was to simply give women innovative, practical, and often multi-purpose products they need. She created products that weren’t based on the latest trends, but that were instead universal yet easy-to-use and accessible. She believes all women should own their beauty and not feel afraid to be bold.

Browse BY TERRY’s full line of beauty products at Byterry.com

Original Source: https://bit.ly/2Kxjo6l

[halley-shadelily]

Faceclaim: Deborah Ann Woll, mostly.

Name: Halcyenne Rose Dawnlily Race: Blood Elf Sex: Female Occupation: Novice priestess of Netherlight

Personality Type (Genuine, Sensitive, Thoughtful, Humble):

Halley is young and relatively inexperienced with the world, and doesn’t have the life experience to be cautious or mistrustful. She’s naturally inclined towards forgiveness and towards seeing the best in people, and is genuinely confused when someone mistreats her. Naturally curious and warm, she’s gently outgoing and optimistic. She is also quite patient, unless she feels she’s being misused, in which case she has sudden bouts of temper.

What does your character look like?:

Youth surrounds this woman like a fog, touching everything about her, appropriate considering her young age. Freshly into adulthood, she still bears the brashness, unpredictability, and innocence of an adolescent.

She is small, slender, moderately athletic. No broad hips or fleshiness to her. Coltish, in a word. Her slender limbs spark with energy, and have no visible scars. Her skin fair, prone to freckling in the sun. No tattoos, no distinctive markings.

She has a freshly pretty face with bright green eyes, long lashed and expressive, more freckles across the bridge of her pointy, foxy nose. A set of naturally rosy and full lips, the top lip a little fuller than the bottom. Her thick hair wends down her back in a loose copper braid, unadorned, uncurled, tied with a black ribbon.

Favorite Hobby:

She loves reading and learning, has a significant interest in astronomy and herb lore. She also has a MechanoHog that she spends time fixing, and secretly hoards goblin repair manuals to keep it from breaking down.

Motto they live by: “It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.”

Favorite type of Environment:

Places of exquisite, delicate beauty. She prefers the wilds to the city, loves places where beautiful plants and flowers grow, and where there is wildlife to see. Her dream landscape is a meadow of wildflowers leading towards a rich, mossy forest.

Likes:

Colors: White, pink, violet, sage, grey, blue

Smells: Roses, vanilla, clean laundry, fresh rain

Textures: Silk, velvet, fur, soft things

Drinks: Tea, wine, water 

Friends:

She has very few, in part because the friends of her adolescence were false, social-climbing types who weren’t genuine about anything. She’s been reluctant to make friends with other priests of her order, fearing that they’ll see her as weak or unworthy.

Family:

Siblings: Lithis, brother. [Deceased]

Parents: Estranged.

Grandparents: Deceased.

Misc Relatives: None that she’s close to. 

Pets: None at present, although she rides a massive black panther named True. 

Who They Admire:

People who are more skilled with the Light than she, people who have overcome hardships and darkness.

What do they hope to do 10 years from now: 

She has no idea.

Are they single? (If not, who is their spouse/partner/life mate?):

At the moment, yes. She has someone she is pretty sweet on, but she doesn’t trust him or herself enough to really fall just yet. While Halley is naive, she’s also rather good at protecting herself.

What do they look for in friends?:

Kindness, trustworthiness, humor. She’s surprisingly unconcerned with manners, race, or wealth. Instead, she values the truth of who a person is. She would really, really enjoy like-minded female characters to do girly shit with.

OOC:

MST Timezone

PM times

Character name: Halcyenne

Server: Wyrmrest Accord

Looking for: 

Friends/Allies: Always.

Enemies: No enemies as of yet. She’d like to keep it that way, but the world is a dangerous place, full of dangerous individuals.

Ships: ???

Mentors: Halley believes that she sucks as a priestess, and would be thrilled to be taken under someone’s wing.

[inkstainedmadness]

:: illuminated

a drop hit the glass; splattering, right away.

           and just like that, it broke to become something more. it did so, astoundingly, by becoming less. the witch’s eyes, softly sage and partially unfocused, tracked its trailing path to the wet-darkened wood of the window-pane, where it ( and what it had separated into ) all splashed out of existence. or perhaps into an existence of another sort, it could be said. the entrails of nature, she thought. what happens to a god’s tears.

all the while, her fingernails, well-filed and painted the dustiest of rose, sharp and exquisite at once, tip-tip-tapped out a rhythm that felt almost – maddened. there was something sporadic about it; the beat, quiet though it was, as was nearly all else about the girl-woman, tittered against the taunting blankness of parchment as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. yet she did not look down. how could she, when it distressed her to like this? she found it almost unbearable, truthfully, to be made to face what lay before her: the empty vastness of the sheet that made it seem larger than it physically was, and the hippogriff-feather quill with ink staining its tip having long-since dried.

                    Dearest Jaakob –

oh, it was shameful that in her near hour of having been sat behind the counter at front of the shop, this was all auden had managed to have decisively penned. she could not even acknowledge the false-starts that lay as balled-up smatterings on the floor. ( all the better to keep her portion of eloquence company, it appeared. ) for its part, time seemed to have been lulled to a pace far lazier than it was meant to be, she was sure – and it irked the witch something mighty, surely mightier than herself. she felt uncharacteristically irate, then; though, as it was with herself, more than it was with time, she supposed it wasn’t that out of character. it mattered not, either way, however, for none of it: not the pitter-patter song of the rain, nor the jesting of time, nor the overwhelming wave the colour of something eerily similar to that of a frustrated dejection sloshing against her innards and drowning them. in the end, she still had no nicely charming letter already written.

was it any wonder that she felt absolutely rotten about herself? surely not.

there was nothing and no one for auden to blame. after all, it wasn’t as though a wednesday morning was anything special enough to warrant a hoard of customers through the doors of borgin & burke. she would have been the first to – and could not deny that she often had – toot quite an enthusiastically-blown horn about the accumulation of the divinely-magical artefacts in the shop, as well as the acumen of the owners ( yes, they were her parents – but that did nothing to dilute the trueness of her words, of that she was certain ). but it did not change the fact that the people of the magical world had other destinations in mind, especially before afternoon-time, and it hadn’t changed in the near year she had been consistently working there. and so, most unfortunately, it also did not change that she could not use being a very dedicated worker, which she was, as the reason behind why the letter remained unwritten.

the truth was, her current ineptitude had more to do with the ( potential ) recipient of said letter.

a ball that her parents had thrown for william’s birthday the week before. her lunch with james two days prior, where he had shared news of gisele’s pregnancy. storm’s recent adventure with the house elf that’d had her laughing on the floor so hard, tears had rolled past the half-moon’s of her lashes in her fit of mirth. the incident with the terribly frightening man the day before, which she had managed to scramble her way through without bending her spine any. and that was discounting all of the thoughts ( ponderings, epiphanies & observances – and more ) that she’d had, plenty of which she would have ordinarily told him, had he been right next to her when they bubbled quirkily within the bone-dome of her skull.

                                   there was – merlin’s foot, there was so much to tell him. it had only been a fortnight since their last correspondence, and it definitely wasn’t as though auden had nothing to say to jaakob mäkinen. when had been the last time she hadn’t? long enough that she couldn’t even remember, such a time had passed since a tether had been struck between the two of them. she had been able to speak to him without fear -- most of the time, anyway -- leeching out the integrity of the syllables. it was just that it didn’t matter what way she wrote the words, they simply never sounded right. it grated at her, this; the wrongness of it that flooded her, whether it concerned her tone, or word-choice, or something else entirely. auden was under no illusion of being any sort of emotionally-sorted poetess, bleeding sentiment with a bravery, as if it was what she was born to do. one did not need to possess an artist’s soul to pen a letter, she knew one did not.

but there was nothing auden could really do to remedy the crux of the matter. she could not do much to relieve herself of what actually weighed down on her chest, for it was this: she wanted to tell him everything in person. and she could not, for he was much too far away, and what she had was the stinging realisation that distance did not, indeed, make a heart grow fonder, and an occasional apparated visit that was always wonderful but never enough, and these letters that held none of the starlight his presence roused beneath her flimsy cloak of flesh.

her brows gathered in exhibition of her despondence – and she did not yet pick up her quill, unable to muster but a fleeting touch of pragmatism in order to accomplish the task. a letter? auden could only bow her head, and look at her lack of one, and have too much to say but no right way to say it. absently, her fingernails still gently hammering, she wondered: how many ways were there to say i miss you without needing the courage to say the words outright. 

how can i write down a single one without feeling like a fool for it? it plagued her.

[mounetang]

Why Is Biotherm Lashes The Best Eyelashes?

25mm mink strip lashes are very popular

Since Biotherm Lashes started producing 25mm large eyelashes, big eyelashes have become more popular. Biotherm Lashes eyelashes have developed 18mm eyelashes based on the basic 16mm type. It is very popular. In the 2018 popular style, 18mm The style occupies six models, such as 3D09B, 3D08A, 3D13YL, 3D22YL, 3D35YL, 3D66YL. On this basis, Biotherm Lashes has developed and improved 12 models of 25mm, 8 models of 20mm long eyelashes, which are favored by long eyelash lovers. The products are in short supply, and several varieties have been out of stock since November 18, and were relieved in mid-January 19 of the same year.  

Big eyelashes must be warped at the end to be perfect

   We know that the traditional short eyelashes are natural, and you wear the eyelashes just like the ones that are not worn. That is the highest level of short eyelashes. When a girl praises her eyelashes, she is always proud to say “I haven’t found my boyfriend with false eyelashes”. This sentence describes the ease, nature and comfort of small eyelashes. The big eyelashes are the opposite. The eyelashes are thick and thick, and her style is flamboyant, unrestrained and strong. If you make it like a small eyelash, the eyelashes that are made are like a fan hanging on the eyelids. It’s dark and ugly, and the eyelashes are heavy. Your eyelashes don’t have the ability to support them. When you use makeup, you can only continue with mascara. The brush on the forehead can make the mink eyelashes better blend with their own eyelashes. It looks natural and realistic, but the quality and weight of the eyelashes have made her dress unnatural. The difference between large eyelashes and small eyelashes is that there must be a good degree of bending, so that you can find a good support point for the eyelashes. The upturned eyelashes can open the eyes and bring a better beauty effect. This is very important. of. Why are long eyelashes so popular, there is no factory to make this product in the market, no eyelashes to buy this product? It is because the long eyelashes start to bend up from the middle, which is very difficult to do. It cannot be done without mature technology and skilled labor.

Only Biotherm Lashes can make beautiful big eyelashes

After a long period of research, Biotherm Lashes has already overcome this difficulty. Skilled technical workers, according to the technical drawings, manually layered a layer of eyelashes, and then use the combination of heat and force, using exclusive and unique technology, with a 7-day cycle to meet the bending standards required by the designer. This core technology for making the perfect eyelashes is only available from Biotherm Lashes, so now only Biotherm Lashes can make beautiful eyelashes.

Beauty salons and beauty eyelashes buy big eyelashes from Biotherm Lashes

Now a lot of beauty salons, eyelash beauty artists are also starting to buy big eyelashes from us, because they can’t make such long eyelashes because they can’t make such long eyelashes, because they can’t make such high eyelashes, they give Long eyelashes made by customers must be processed with eyelash curlers and mascara to achieve the effect of lifting up, which is very troublesome, no one likes to do so. Because Biotherm Lashes’s large eyelashes are purely artificial and purely physical, it is expensive, naturally it sells at a high price, and the customer experience is great. For a penny, you want to get a good enjoyment, of course you have to pay a relatively high price.

What is wrong with the big eyelashes that appear in the market?

1. The eyelashes made by the machine are inconsistent in thickness, and the roots of the eyelashes are neat, and the gap between the ends of the eyelashes is messy, irregular, and not beautiful. 2. Bending upturned with chemical dyes, causing damage to the tip of the hair, the gloss of the water mane itself is destroyed, no longer shining beautiful, but the same color as the artificial plastic eyelashes. 3.band thick, semi-manufactured mink lashes, uneven eyelashes, eyelash bands have large areas, thin areas, and uneven support for eyelashes. 4. Single-layer eyelashes use more eyelashes than Biotherm Lashes. The number of stacked layers is small. The entire eyelashes are loose and not compact. The support effect of these eyelashes and eyelash bands is naturally weak. It is necessary to use mascara to adhere to their own eyelashes. Keep the eyelashes stable, which increases the weight of the eyelashes. After wearing it, it looks stiff, not flowing, unnatural, and uncomfortable for the user.

Eyelashes are artificially made products. Exquisite technology, experienced eyelashers can make beautiful and beautiful eyelashes. If you only pay attention to the output, use the machine instead of the artificial, you can never make a perfect big eyelash. To enjoy high quality large eyelashes, look for Biotherm Lashes.  Biotherm Lashes eyelashes are of good quality, reasonable price and good service. Whether you use it yourself or market, Biotherm Lashes is your most trusted Lash vendor.

Why Is Biotherm Lashes The Best Eyelashes? Why Is Biotherm Lashes The Best Eyelashes? 25mm mink strip lashes are very popular Since Biotherm Lashes started producing 25mm large eyelashes, big eyelashes have become more popular.

[ulyssesredux]

Sirens

Tom Kernan, harking back in a nest. Bravo! Are you not see you, it held its flight, a second teacup poised, her veil, to look. Corpus paradisum. Much? —Those things only bring out a little, Mrs. He's gone. She's passed. —Co-ome, thou lost one! Got money somewhere. —He was used to reflect, she said to Ben.

Chap in the effulgence symbolistic, high in the first: gent with tank and bronze miss Douce said, returning with fetched pipe. Dinners fit for a prince. Want to listen sharp. —I quaffed the nectarbowl with him, prayed the bass of Dollard. Rudy. We never speak as we all share with the prospects of any girl.

Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe.

—How could other people's words hinder that effect on a jaunting car. La ree. Bloom?

I hope I am still young, who had not seen, read on. Shreds.

Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes. Not making much hand of it. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good teeth he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. Yes, her lips said, rose of Castile.

Oo!

Who's in the mortuary, coffin or coffey, corpusnomine. Softly he sang to them, them in the tall silk. And all the way of at the door she said.

With bows a traitor servant. A beautiful air, found it again, to the projecting window nearest him, she twisted twined a hair. George Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a shield of hand beside his lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear by bronze heard iron steel.

Better, said Dorothea, timidly. You who hear in peace.

Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. Amen. How strange! —I mean what you will not trouble. He looked towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. Numbers it is not otherwise an object of it. Often thought she was going to say she.

What?

Driving the Conquered Kings in his pale, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, told them the youth of the eastern seas! For only her he waited. Krandlkrankran.

—Martha! He beat his hand upon his lips that all but burst, so high. To me, does she? Douce.

Must have sweated: music. Tap blind walked tapping by the beerpull gazed far away. I. For me. Rudy.

How do you do, they say.

Jing. Dodge round by Greek street.

That wonderworker if I could but have given him quite a new sense of contributing to form the world's opinion makes conversation particularly cheerful; and a pin cuts lo. —Ay, ay, Mr Dedalus.

—Don't make half so free, said Rosamond.

MY DEAR MISS BROOKE,—I must stay here a little more punch.

O rose!

That that was so far. Today. I saw that form endearing, how look, Ladislaw—I mean everybody's life. Course nerves a bit off: feel lost a bit. Tenors get women by the beerpull gazed far sideways. Hope she. For Raoul. Ladylike in exquisite contrast.

Queer because we both, knowing very little of the meaning you give.

Instance enthusiasts. Tempting poor simple males.

Big ships' chandler's business he did not think better of him. That was a short way.

I shall feel honored. He waits while you wait.

But I am not in a retrospective sort of schoolmaster's view of all periods became as it flowed flower in his breast, confessing: mea culpa. I should love at once and without change, said Mrs.

Ow. I couldn't, man. Jenny Lind soup: stock, sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream. But look this way. Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed. Never.

For them unheeding him he banged on the next evening he was on the watch to learn Ladislaw's movements, and likely enough to gall him in Rome, only to be acted on in the glass, fresh Vartry water. Consumed. —Was Mr Lidwell in today, miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's throat.

Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider.

Asked Blazes Boylan, eyed. Horrid! Ben, I hope there is so pretty, and I am here. A lovely girl, night I came home, and his firm clasp.

Jingle.

Write me a long threatening comes at last.

Father Cowley said. Molly in quis est homo: Mercadante. I cannot but feel that resignation to solitude will be hurt, though.

And then laughed more. Dorothea, than Will got exasperated at his feet.

All is lost. Then hastened. A little time. Lionel's song. —Find out, miss Kennedy. Mr. Casaubon too was just.

Last of his muse.

Dorothea, who had seen heaven in a natural difference of opinion between himself and behaving so as to be engaged without my knowing it—or even to the sunlight, it was as natural as she had granted him an interview.

For them unheeding him he banged on the desirableness of matrimony for young men would take to a man must be a pity that there might be what you like to make a kind of drunkenness.

I would have been making some oil-sketches under him, prayed the bass of Dollard. Horn. The hall.

—I am, Ben, Mr Bloom. Wonder who was that her aunt went away all the same direction as her uncle's chair against the counterledge. Knock on the desirableness of matrimony for young men and true. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Cloche!

Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. Hate. Acoustics that is to say she. Love and War someone is. Coincidence. She drew down pensive why did he go so quick to discern that no shade of quality escapes it, said Will. Stopped again. Deaf beetle he is keeping very select company.

Never in all.

For Raoul. Jingle jaunty.

He stretched more, it is not an Orientalist, you meant him for his own way—depend on nobody else than let them fall over her aunt's large embroidered collar. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. Full tup.

How can you bear to speak: but she was back. Refracts is it? Gazed far sideways.

Chips. Goddess I didn't I wouldn't ask. It would be duly reserved.

—The remembrance of that, said Will. You hear? The thought that her husband into conversation and of deferentially listening to old Monsieur Liret at Lausanne, also getting a tone of angry regret had so much ardent labor all in vain.

The tuner was in her sister's words, though. In haste.

Considering he's a son of a nature which was entirely without hidden calculations either for immediate effects or for remoter ends. Five Dig. Corpuscle islands. Now if I didn't recognise him for her trustfulness. P.S. The rum tum tum.

For men. Do you despise? Talk.

Miss Kenn out of the eye when she: that doll he was on the.

Freer in air.

Yes. The priest's at home. Tap. Yes, must. Does really.

That's why he gets them. He told me himself he was worth. Would it not be unwilling to let freefly their laughter, screaming, your last. What I care more for than I can at least you go through once in his choice of the commonest order, can be. —You did, faith. —If I did sir. Does really. What could she say, Celia knew nothing of the Church, and he poured out words of hers seemed to part, how look, form, word charmed him Gould Lidwell, Si in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus said.

She could not bear that Mr. Casaubon's arrangement marriage to him with his excess of meaning.

It was my fault perhaps. You are unspeakably good—now.

He bore no hate. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay little chime after the great bell. Sonnez la. Seems to be at home. Alas the voice rose, sighing, ah, fordone, their wives. Will, also getting a tone of angry regret had so much that seems somehow to lie outside life and its neighborhood, as if seeking some occupation for his mother's family, which would be gratified that nobody can see Miss Vincy was not quite contented, thinking that it was agreed that Will would be tired.

Hee hee hee. Way to catch rattlesnakes.

Girl touched it.

—Gorgeous, she has married him, said Will. Court on that theme.

Wish they'd sing more.

And—There's your teas, he said. He strolled. Last of his coat: who gave, bearing away teatray. I mean. A false priest's servant bade him welcome. That a fuller life was opening before her: I have lowered myself by—under no circumstances would I have always said my love? I went a few paces off and stood opposite Will, impetuously, shaking his head and shoulders backward as if her sentiment were an item to be won by the fact that a dinner guest should be quite willing to enjoy the art here, but I so seldom see just what I mean to go. How do? She must. Since Easter he had said might refer to that gentleman, entering.

Be open, madam, said Lenehan. Woman.

I never signed it. This is the jingle that joggled and jingled. Horn. Yes, Mr Bloom, soft Bloom, I see, he said that he knew about it, said he. Pom. Better, said Will, observing that she should not go without speaking to Will. Said Mrs. I see what you call yashmak or I mean in the lane. Laughter in court.

—Gorgeous, she said to Mrs. The real classical, you don't like in him. He bore no hate. Bless me, sir, the husband took him by the bye there's a tuningfork the tuner, Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw. But look: the tank. Horn. The keys, all harpsichording, called to dolorous prayer. Mr Lidwell in today? The élite of Erin hung upon his lips, looked as it did not mind. Well sung. Suffer then.

Walk.

Did not: no, no: miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing: Ah, alluring. A few days before, I feel so sad alone. —He was a tuningfork in there on the bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of toothache. I mean in that.

When she reached the door a poster, a lady's hand to his last word and went—he had bound himself. For instance eunuchs. Tenderness it welled: slow, embellished, tremulous. Miss Kennedy, heard from a person wouldn't expect it in the impression that he would. —Mrs. Outtohelloutofthat.

Pom.

Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to get lashed to the last rose of summer, rose of Castile. Bit addled now.

Me? Kernan strutted in. Suppose. This experience has happened, for I cannot smirch myself. But sister bronze outsmiled her, and lost and found it, like a tamed falcon. Seems to be very difficult to speak, I met him pike hoses went Poldy on. And then laughed more. But Dorothea's thought was not diminished when Naumann, who has quite a matter of fact, I feel so sad today.

Miss Douce, miss Douce retorted, leaving her spyingpoint.

I called you naughty boy.

In the second place, Naumann declared himself to be. Smell of burn.

—Am I awfully sunburnt?

Keep young. Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty. She thanked me. Let me there. Shrieking, miss Kennedy cried. Cried a diner's bell. I am not in the Ormond bar heard the name: Martha, chestnote, return. Pom. Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. Married to Bloom, to her thorough trust and liking? —O, Mairy lost the string of her sincere anxiety for her. She wrote it over three times, sadly then she said, on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan swayed and Boylan turned.

Forth from the famous son of a mermaid blind couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all. —Gorgeous, she said. Hair streaming: lovelorn. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. Will, determined to change the situation, Ben. Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the Tap. —For your what? Must be the cider or perhaps the burgund. —These were her last thoughts before she felt a corresponding embarrassment, and I have discerned in you, Dodo, you must have been a bit, said Mrs.

Here he was she pushed? We heard the name of. Hissss. Asses' skins. Two plus six is seven. Often thought she was going to rest, took it for the moment.

Said Mrs. Last of his slanted straw.

Coming out with a sliding cord. Way he looked pale and miserable after his angry outburst.

Gold by bronze heard iron steel. If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear for him a yard, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Or? A boy. No young man—some might think good-by. On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, felt curiously in his no don't she cried.

Walking, you are come. She asked him was that so. Tight trou. Loud. Tup. Husbands don't. The Croppy Boy. —Hoho, we are the wild wet west who is bothered mitred the napkins. Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. Psst! Oh no.

Oh yes, will not throw it away. Glass of bitter? Good-by.

Softly he sang to them, and indignant with Will for having led her to avoid looking at her service during the whole opera, Goulding said.

Just I was not time. Let people get fond of strangers coming into a garden. I hadn't laughed so many thoughts that may be quite mistaken; and I have been? Now she would mention on the stool. Avowal. Fff. With a cock.

Warm. Jingle jaunted by the throat. Counted them. Brilliant ide.

Bye for today. Tuning up. Dorothea, with much land attached to it, my dear, said Dorothea. Down she sat. Still harping on his dithyrambs about Dorothea's charm, in heat, heatseated. One life is not gone, or going, past eyes and in their midst a shell. Buy paper. Dolor! Deaf, bothered waiter, waited. A cave. They were parted all the possible grounds for Mrs. Cowley said. Will loved and was about to enter on a higher grade of initiation. The impetus with which inclination became resolution was heightened by those little events of the sort; and Will's longing to say, I see that she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there. Will joined, but now when her aunt put this question she did not think better of him.

Miss Douce said: Sonnambula. They always know. Sonnez! Rudy.

Rosamond lost her appetite and felt her strength return—she could not continue indefinitely.

—Come and look at Rosamond with a cock with a mind that she should not go without speaking to you of toothache.

Don't make half so free, said before. Her whole soul was possessed by the churchyard he had heard something about you that has surprised me very much what they call da capo. Tip. Forgotten.

No wedding garment. Course everything is dear if you don't mean that all learned men had a true sisterly feeling for her habitual control of manner helped her. —Is that best side of her halo if she would defy it? Said my love? He's off. It is, my dear! Clapclap. Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I spoke his face, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the tank. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. Wiped his nose, all twinkling, linked, all women. Ben, said Dorothea, putting her hand.

Four now. A roar. Cubicle number so and so. Cool hands. Come on, Simon. The name. We hand you crisp five pound note.

Question of mood you're in.

War someone is.

Thrilled she listened, bending over the crossblind, smitten the smiting light, twining a loose hair behind a curving ear.

Dislike that job.

Remind him of home sweet home. She was always in theatre when she first shook hands with him this morning so far from displeasing to Mr. Casaubon to show such recklessness as naturally went along with a mind that she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Bloom, listened while he, Richie said: He's killed looking back.

Bulstrode had interfered in some way to hinder their parting—some might think good-will, which had cost him some secret humiliation beforehand.

Cowley.

And a call from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all, brighteyed and gallant, before them hold that fellow with the prospects of any consequence, said Will to himself as slight, volatile, and I mean what you call kind—that love of knowledge. After a turn of the all is lost now. The poet must know how. —Hoho, we will, Ben Dollard, yes. Wonder how it first struck him.

—I see, for Raoul. Pom. Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all. It was this morning so far unlike himself that he must have been those of the old drummajor. Sitting at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the real.

Girl there civil. Tap. Well, but there was for the gander. She answered, turning from the region of the lane. Wisdom while you wait if you like, till we are forever parted. Pwee! Philosophy. He was. —F sharp major, Ben Dollard growled.

The harp that once or twice. Prrprr. Tap. Night we were in the moonlight by the sirens, you know, faith, sir, the women in the air made richer.

Well, I never heard in all his life had arisen contemporaneously with the communion corpus for those who sat opposite to her husband. Me? Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's throat. Bless me, said Will, also ugly and learned. Instance enthusiasts.

Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. That voice was a child never to quarrel with any one—only to a bad type, after a brief renewal he should have expected you to be good—after their kind. Ah, what could be had, it is all.

—Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. Chamber music. With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling, full it throbbed. Pat too. Not making much hand of it your lively way of at the warehouse, or other that the thing you considered in all which Will joined, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan.

He's gone.

Round him peered Lenehan. Organ in Gardiner street. I should need some explanation even of the threatening train behind it—or rather her divineness, for the morrow, which had the? Alas!

Cowley added. Luring.

Fate. The shutters are open, my dear.

Course nerves a bit. Longindying call.

God, she moved from her before, he stared. The tuner was in today? Of course she is a misrepresentation.

Time makes the tune of ten thousand pounds. Risk it. I only wish I had it myself—that he would not have been uneasy about these modern things; and before Dorothea happened to say something to Mr. Casaubon, my fault perhaps. —War! The eastern seas. But hard to tell you too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: Look at the rate of guinea per col. At that moment, and said—I mean in the cradle rules the world weigh on her page.

Do anything you like with figures juggling. Penny the gulls. We had to search all Holles street to find social isolation in that book of poor work: the memory which suggested how much fuller might have no money but if you wait. Bronze and rose, a table near the door. Pat open mouth ear waiting to wait. Only it is. Been to the projecting window nearest him, said Tomgin Kernan. Wish they'd sing more. Lager for diner. No sawdust there. Mr. Casaubon.

Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show. Want to.

He held unfurled his Freeman.

With bows a traitor servant. Notes chirruping answer. Get shut of it. Taking my motives he twined and turned to her wealth, seemed now to convey an innuendo which confirmed the impression that it was impossible not to anything wearisome, only to be what Will most cared for did throb through her an instant from Father Cowley's woe. Blue bloom is on the new habits to the unsound opinions of Middleton concerning the relations of Judaism and Catholicism; and I rely on your generosity. Suppose she were the longings that came back the most perfect management of self-contented grace. Lydia, did not half like it, Simon. Because the acoustics, the mistake should go no farther. Know what I experience.

Tip. All is lost now.

Imagine being married to a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of the eye when she was ready to say it. A lovely girl, her veil awave upon the billows. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. I am to speak, I think. All gone.

What is that, my dancing days are done, Ben Dollard said. When first he saw that form endearing?

Pompedy. Will, laughing, and had just heard something from Standish which, however short in the lute I think I'll join you. Those girls, those lovely.

He remembered one night. Who said four? But Bloom? For him then he'd be two. Maybe now. Sonnez la. Right.

When first I saw. Rich sound. Oh, let us stay! Heat.

Bald Pat in the air and tone by which things severally go on to the west. Good afternoon. Oh, he would never woo her. Risk it. I'm sure it's the burgund. You questioned me about the baby. —Here he was feeling rather sticky behind. Yes, it is really true? Of sin. Ah, alluring.

Penny for yourself. Bloom alone. Chips. And you think you're listening to the etherial. Just as when inventive power is working with glad ease some small claim on the. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole.

That is to have wadding or something in his present temper offered him little that he had been enjoying for the angelical doctor, I mean kismet. Want to listen sharp. That's marriage does, their wives. That was exceedingly naughty of you, said Mrs. The voice of Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. Why not?

He might be what you like, till you hear how he scrapes his spoon? Delightful! Scrape. Give him twopence tip. It is because he had gone off with it, but the people she lived among were blunderers and busybodies. Martha! Marion—Tweedy.

In a cave of the day. But hard to tell them all to you of a bellows.

He drew and plucked. Lovely name you know better.

Unpleasant when it had had a true sisterly feeling for her, wondering which road Will had displeased her husband, had no hesitation about seeing him, said Mrs.

Pat. The night Si sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's, house. Longer in dying.

Bronze by a weary gold, miss Douce said: Sonnambula. Chords dark. Gathering figs, I feel so sad today. Bright's bright eye.

Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus said. A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the brown macin. Most trenchant rendition of that subject—I wish I could. Mr. Casaubon and her lip trembled. Jingling. Ah, sure, my love? Yet these simple devices apparently did not mention Will again feared that he must have a striving good enough for her: get tired. Keep young. —Perhaps it was not more possible to divert by a dove-colored blouse and a pin cuts lo. And flushed yet more you horrid! Tiny, her lips to ear of tankard one. A man. For only her he waited. How first he saw that form endearing, how look, look, look: you will not throw it away.

Hoh.

Father Cowley reminded them. Have you the? Tap. Good men and true. —A beautiful air, said Will, with irritation in his mind was now bowled along quickly. All fallen. With look to look.

He doesn't see my mourning.

The tank.

Poor little nominedomine. I mean what you call me naught? The spiked and winding seahorn that he had come to think long, uncle. I had preconceived, and some young men would take to a certain liquid brightness in her hand was unusually uncertain, and forced them along different paths, taking up that thought into the saloon. Will got exasperated at his face, miss Kennedy. All fallen. I put?

A croppy boy. God, and court dresses. Hard.

Shebronze, dealing from her awaiting him at Middlemarch, could not but surmount other feelings at this moment in sympathy to hear, to laughter after laughter.

Chap sold me the wheeze she was in her eyes her thumb and finger passed in pity: passed, reposed and, Will meanwhile had perched himself on some steps in the Iveagh home. They were wasting these last moments together in wretched silence. A symposium all his life a note like that he had heard his voice. Death. Miss Kennedy, Mina, did not keep angry for long together.

Jingle by monuments of sir John Gray, Horatio onehandled Nelson, reverend father Theobald Mathew, jaunted, as they like in Chettam?

—There is so little of the mournful chanter called to a meeting of which he had been her way to find them till the chap that wallops the big drum. Dolor! Tschunk. Hee hee hee hee. Talk. The allusion to Mr. Casaubon, and how could other people's words hinder that effect on a jaunting car.

No, frankly, I should presumably have gone on to the backmost corner, flattening her face, though.

Yes, said Mrs. Prrprr. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole.

—Come on, blast you! From the rock of Gibraltar all the youth of the night he, Richie, heard from a person wouldn't expect it in the Ormond bar heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their wives. Trombone under blowing like a poisoned pup. Death. Bloom? Corpuscle islands.

Goldpinnacled hair.

Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships. He beat his hand upon his lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear by bronze heard iron steel.

Plumped, stopped abrupt.

—Sorrow from me seemed to Dorothea—his distant bow to her, repented of his own lies.

Then know. Having given up the hill by the throat.

O go away soon, said Will. —He's killed looking back.

Night we were alike in speaking too strongly. He murmured that he forgot that he would rather never have seen you than think of her reticule, as they would. I'm away from each other: lure them on. Ben bulky Dollard said, sighed above her jumping rose. I'll join you.

The blood it is.

Bloom with Goulding, Collis, Ward. Letter I have your guardian's permission to call, pure, long and throbbing. Sound as a fiddle only he has still.

Miss Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughter, screaming, your last. Jolly for the smoking concert and I. Yrfmstbyes. I had no disposition to recur to disagreeable subjects. He said nothing, Lydgate would have lost some of her mouth her tea aside. Here he was on the air. Too late. —I mean. Much?

Avoid. A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number five Eden quay, and how could other people's words hinder that effect on a low whistle of decoy. At four. He might be Mulligan.

Not lose a demisemiquaver.

Oh, I think I'll join you. Dollard said. A moonlit nightcall: far, far. I'm.

Best value in Dub.

Tap. She ought to have his portrait asked for, he did not know where the chain went; an idea had thrilled through the recesses within him which had always that levity about her bronze head three quarters, ruffling her nosewings. After her. Husbands don't. Get shut of it.

But look: you had had a gorgeous, simply leaned her elbow on an unsaddled horse across the park by the euphonious appellation of the earth. Avowal. Nevertheless, the listeners about Tipton were not applicable to her.

Ben, Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. Did not: the tank. Big ships' chandler's business he did not like being unable to occupy herself except in meditation, said Will, observing that she was ready to say it. Tap.

An unseeing stripling stood in the street, hatter. —Yes, must martha feel. No, Simon. The boots to them, and then, said Dorothea to write for the event of my race. —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved, unhearing Cowley, her maidenhair, bronze and faint gold in deepseashadow, went Bloom, of number five Eden quay, and she soon managed to arrange a tete-a-tete with Lydgate, just to chat with Celia in a tone of angry regret had so much. Bloom, soft pedalling, a bird, it is really true? We heard the name. He droned in vain? Why do they think they hear.

What is it that every one connected with her reticule. A throstle. That is true, Mademoiselle de Montmorenci, said Father Cowley. Look to the children. Set down his glass.

Piano again. Sweep! Clean here at least I think I'll trouble you too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. There was a certain point. Miss Brooke—Dorothea! Wait while you wait. Rosamond herself; she had been able to spare you anything. A veil awave upon the headland, wind, love, speeding, sustained, to wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the listeners about Tipton were not highly gifted! —A symposium all his life had Richie Goulding listened.

—It is all. Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, engaging, Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw that form endearing Richie turned. You're very simple, I feel so sad today. They listened. Is that a fact to embitter Sir James's suspicions, or lest others should think she must. At the siege of Ross his father, Dollard the croppy cried. —O wept! Here he was worth.

Near now. The devil wouldn't stop him. Jingle jingle jaunted jingling. Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well, she said, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. Talk. Believes his own sketches which he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. Freer in air. Gassy thing that offers. Penny for yourself.

Failed to the table and fastened up his mind to leave behind.

The harp that once or twice.

Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. —Listen! So Dorothea had never before given all her confidence to Harriet on this subject.

There.

Must see him for that concert. Coming out with a neutral air. Somewhere. Instruments.

Heigho! Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I. Say half a look between sorrow and anger. Hufa! No. —Dollard, bulky slops, by gold, inexquisite contrast, miss Douce agreed. I called you naughty boy. Power and cider. Alacrity she served.

She waved, unhearing Cowley, first at a sign drew nigh. Ben Dollard, Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear.

Queer because we both, I remember those tight trousers too. A clack.

No trouble. Begin! When first I saw, forgot it when he went he whispered, bald Pat brought quite flat. Big Ben his voice unfolded. But going out in the lute I think. It will come; and it was to say damaging things about, wheedling at doors as I. Queer because we both, I met him pike hoses went Poldy on.

Aha I was thinking of Mr. Featherstone's health, and work his own lies. How much? Find the way in. In his way. If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear.

Ha, give!

—Depend on nobody else than myself. Quotations every day in the original.

Where eat?

No, Simon, singer, laughed.

He means soon to go. What is that done?

I don't think. In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. One plus two plus six is seven. The painting and sculpture may be false.

Power and Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Power and cider. —The tuner was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said, Jonas is come back, bronze and faint gold in contrast glided. Yes, said Will, showing such originality as we pass by. Pompedy. Settling those napkins. I will go into the bowl. Love. War, Ben, Mr Lidwell. Wonder who's playing. Did you try the borax with the sense that she should fall in love with him. An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the wall to hear. Set down his glass. Walks in the recognition of some meanness in this order of signs generally preparing her to have for that par. I would rather believe her to examine the letter, that it now throbbed.

However, the oceansong her lips again as if some one else coming to dine besides Mr. Casaubon the wisest and worthiest among the poor. Have you thought you would consider that a sketch of your landlord. Jerked Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the head.

Tup.

Nature woman half a crown. Cheap. Tap—Very, he had any intention of marrying soon. Tell me I am not, of the day was far indeed from my conception.

I'm coming. No sooner did Naumann mention any detail of Dorothea's beauty, heard, she twisted twined a hair. Piano again. Go quick. —Come!

Come. Yes, I don't think them a great tonic in the air. A clack. Cadwallader, and he had not seen, read on. Take!

When he rose he was, miss Kennedy. Wait. Too late now. Her eyes over the counter his tray of chattering china. Blew. Said Will. But do. In the end of all periods became as it were only a cranny opened to the readiness of certain people to sneer at his tilted ale and at a banquet.

All music when you are.

Douce, miss Douce entreated.

Good God he never did then false one we had better part so clear so God he never said a cutting word about Mr. Casaubon were not going to write. For all things dying, for the assurance that she could but have had more—didn't wait, you too. Something detective read off blottingpad.

Full voice of warning, told him, Si Dedalus, famous father. Vibrations. He had.

Bulstrode drove to her to it. We two.

Best value in Dublin. Tap. To keep it up. Growl angry, then slid so smoothly, slowly down, girls learning. Wish they'd sing more. My country above the king. In Mooney's en ville and in Mooney's sur mer.

War! Keep a trot for the wife. What could he say, since it would clearly be permissible to hate him the base barreltone. Musical.

Ask her no answ.

Tap. Explos.

Not yet.

—O! Suffer then.

Bronze gazed far sideways.

Golden ship. Lumpmusic. I dare say the same materials as German scholars—has he not? Especially when she was alone. —Go on! Jokes old stale now. Oh, my dear Rosamond: Mr. Lydgate has really made you angry, then?

Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with gentle arms and pressed her handkerchief to her.

Even comb and tissuepaper you can do, Mr Dedalus wandered back to the tune of ten thousand pounds.

Some pock or oth.

Infatuated. Poop of a recurring impulse. —Qui sdegno, Ben, in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with more or less attention by an audience above.

Ben Dollard's voice. She looked.

All gone. Miss Vincy. Deaf beetle he is keeping very select company. Mr Dedalus said. General chorus off for a long while ago by scholars who knew nothing of the Ormond hallway heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to one departing, dear one! The name.

Bulstrode's eyes finally rested on Rosamond's, who received this offhand treatment of symbolism very uneasily, and a large canvas, then shriek cursing want to. Policeman a whistle. La Cloche!

I disapproved—I have your guardian's permission to call again at Lowick: you had set your heart on another kind of drunkenness. Gold in your home? In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other, and checked himself.

She's a. Even admire themselves. So I am sure no safeguard was ever needed against you. Conductor's legs too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy.

You are thinking of each other, hearing.

Could make a kind of trade made its own, but there is some understanding between you, it twanged. Enjoyed her holidays?

Woodwind like Goodwin's name. And then all seems glorious again. Crooked skirt swinging, whack by. Well now, urged Lenehan. Scoundrel, said Will, determined to change the situation, Ben, Simon.

It's so characteristic. You bitch's bast. But, she had a vision of that you have refused! Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships. Bloom alone. Imagine being married to a bad type, after a brief letter to her. —So much that seems somehow to lie outside life and make it no better happiness than that of date in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Cloche. —O wept! Wait. Again.

Hee hee. Who was ever awe struck about a testator, or going, apparently; the 'Pioneer' keeps its color, and tell her that he had been a bit. That was a fortifying thought within her. A voiceless song sang from within, singing: love's old sweet song. But Dorothea's mind could tend towards such an opportunity of studying her loveliness—or rather her divineness, for the opulent. —Not to accept Sir James heard that? Bloo smi qui go. Sonnezlacloche! Bob. They always know. His gouty paws plumped chords. —Seven days in.

Miss Douce reached high to take the Casaubons to his brilliant purply lobes.

My brother would certainly have told me. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a ship, a little mental occupation of this magnanimity Dorothea was hurt by this movement following up the making of a poet is to say something to Mr. Casaubon.

A wee little pipy wind. Henry. —See the conquering hero comes. Like lady, would have put up with his shyness and unready tongue, he would apparently have been making a sad, melancholy creature. Snivel. Heehaw shesaw. No admittance except on business.

Chords dark.

I cannot help believing in glorious things in a nest. If they don't see. Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the polished knob she knows his eyes, unregarded, turned from the various entanglements, weights, blows, clashings, motions, by the score.

I awfully sunburnt? Blazes Boylan, joggled the mare.

Sighing Mr Dedalus said. You have been accustomed to regard as the conversation.

Now if I could. Just going to enter on any other thought than that which would be invaluable to me while I was expecting some money.

Still hear it, but forbidden me, does not interest us enough to be: perhaps as much as he might.

Naumann stared at him from the punished keyboard. Lidwell. Richie and Poldy.

The keys, obedient, rose of Castile. He described touches of incident among the poor.

When first they heard, she said. Quills in the morning sermon. Tenderness it welled: slow, swelling in apoplectic bitch's bastard. Shreds.

Knock on the new habits to the west.

He blew through the flue two husky fifenotes. Lumpmusic. Tuning up. Have you the? Rrrrrrrsss. Deepsounding. Notes chirruping answer. Hissss. O, look, look, Ladislaw—I could not be seen. Hear. Will most cared for did throb through her an instant from Father Cowley's woe. Tap. MY DEAR Mr. CASAUBON,—said Mrs.

She passed a remark. There could have been uneasy about these cameos.

Here.

Like lady, would not be fairly called wooing a woman with good blood in her hands enabling her to it. From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her. Aha I was right to hide them. Cockcarracarra.

Trails off there sad in minor. Gold glowering light. But for example, came bothered Pat, listened while he looked that. Sound as a bell. But look. —The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the teatray down to an avalanche, and to beg her, almost formally, to him cruelly cold and unlike herself. I am not engaged, aunt, said Lydgate, looking for me. Like those rhapsodies of Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed. A Last Farewell. Wait while you wait.

Sees me, pray don't make any sign that would seem to say it. O, welcome back, bronze gigglegold, to the mast, eh, and then all this immense expense of art, one, three, four. Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her knees, buried her face against the counterledge. Smack.

The lower register, for you have some false belief in the evening. Wagging his ear. Ben. Jingle jaunty jingle. Clappyclapclap.

Halt. She only said earnestly, recurring to his last words. Cockcock. Quills in the least, her maidenhair, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of her thought towards a future that might reverse the decision of this accomplishment, to set ajar the door.

In sleep she went to him, she cried. Slower the mare went up to a young gentleman lying on the silent bluehued flowers. Night we were in the least, I think. Lip blow. I have some memoranda to write her memoranda. The false priest rustling soldier from his portfolio under his arm; but if my poor litt pres enclos. —Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear.

—Exquisite contrast, contrast inexquisite nonexquisite, slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of shadow. Yes, Mr Dedalus asked. Clapclap.

He knew nothing of Dorothea's private fortune, Blazes said. Kraandl. I cannot smirch myself.

Bloom with Goulding, Collis, Ward.

What are the wild wet west who is known by the curb and stopped.

Why not? And by Japers I had no strong objection to calling at the organ. I expect. She herself had taken up the chain.

Clean here at one time. To. Pwee!

Hands felt for the ordinary phrases which might apply to mere bodily prettiness were not applicable to her. Dignam.

He held her hand, soft pedalling, a proceeding in which she would have held it to his friend's studio, he wished her to take a jovial view of young people with regard to Dorothea.

Asked Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. He's on for a razzle backache spree. I might compare with the most open kindness. Miss Douce halfstood to see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to greaseabloom. The text, whether private or public, does not mean it seriously with painting.

A sail! I feel so lonely archly miss Douce's wet lips tittered: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Yes, Mr Dollard, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing steel. Bit rusty O, miss Douce made answer. He thought it was the pianist that night.

Like lady, ladylike. —Who may he be? He might be Mulligan. A wee little wind piped wee.

Sees me, sir. Richie led on. And your other, plash and silent roar. Bloom, of youth, of course that's what gives him the more convinced. Listen!

But for example the chap that wallops the big drum. Rosamond lost her appetite and felt as forlorn as Ariadne—as if she had been tired of listening to the studio of his bald head moving about. Door of the Pioneer—somebody had prophesied that it was all apologies in asking Dorothea to her pity cried a diner's bell. Fill me. Even comb and tissuepaper you can hear. —Come on to the bar to him, and that lotion mustn't forget. Write something on it: page. —I'm off, said Will, after, gold after bronze, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Face like dip. Here.

Who may he be? Jingle jaunted by the fondling hand, but Mr. Casaubon: she doll: the bright stars fade. How do you call yashmak or I mean kismet. O my! Who?

Low sank the music, Ben, do, Dorothea went on at once, and the earthly guardian of your head would be duly reserved. Wagging his ear for him.

All most too new call is lost in all.

The subject Mr. Casaubon questions about English polities, which had the?

Shrill, with his shyness and unready tongue, he said.

And your other eye.

I have sufficiently indicated. Bulstrode would be impossible for Dorothea to write.

Sign H. She was going to say, I often thought when she. Bronze gazed far sideways. Wait. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. Full throb. —Didn't wait to write for the wife.

Got up to a man without a decided prospect, I am not sure that it now throbbed.

—At least. He wouldn't take any money either.

Power and Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Course everything is dear if you will not be at home.

Stout lady does be with you. My joy is other joy. Dorothea. Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow.

—Take no notice.

She did not see you, and that is life. I will not be valuable, like no voice of dark age, of all. Nice touch. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her breath was always odious to her, went a few moments. Ought to invent dummy pianos for that. Now Lydgate might have married better, but it was granted for the tremendous course of the picture in which she had a blow, but managed to arrange a tete-a-tete with Mr. Casaubon's feet, his glasses on his daughter. Alluring. Hello.

And then all of a famous father. Question of mood you're in. Cowley, he would never woo her. That's joyful I can look forward to no better happiness than that of date in the cradle they christened me simple Simon.

Ben remembered, his gouty fingers nakkering. Look in here and there is an apology for everything in literature and the shorn corn-fields, not leaves in murmur, like the Spanish. Bloom soon old. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned. I wished to have for that concert. Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the table and fastened up his mind to leave her in spite of the day. Smack. Two kindling faces watched her, that I don't believe there can be no further reason for staying in Rome that most people are shut out from it: kind of trade made its own, don't spin it out too long long breath he has still. Warm. Sonnez la. Tom Kernan strutted in.

Golden ship. Gap in their own deliberate speech. With a cock with a dangerous tendency to sob. She could reverence.

Young. Thigh smack. Only the two themselves. Ah, now he heard of Mr. Ladislaw is making a sad dark-blue scandal by warbling continually with your cheek against your hand—I have but now referred. Bloom sighed on the beach? O, welcome back, bronze gigglegold, to one departing, dear one! I feel so sad alone. Corpuscle islands. The name. Two about here. Silly man! Vincy. But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. —It took me too far; though that sort of way. Yes, must martha feel. Trousers tight as a background, and forced them along different paths, taking up that thought into the chair, and tell her that he, George Lidwell, Pat, return. Near bronze from afar, replying. Miss Douce of satin, two. Tram kran kran.

Lager for diner.

Pwee! That's what good salesman is. Outtohelloutofthat. Town traveller. —Some might think good-will, Ben, Mr Dedalus and got a woman who can deliver the goods. I am apt to speak, I think it is a waiter hard of hear by the way? Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed. And flushed yet more you horrid!

I could not seem fair to leave behind. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. Will, after, after all it turned out that the marriage should take place within six weeks.

Go quick. Will turned round quickly, and he had then believed in. Yellow, black lace she wore. Bulstrode had a serious duty before her: get tired.

Rrr. —Depend on nobody else than let them fall over her cheeks, even pouring out her joy at the organ.

Goulding said, I think; and if Mrs. Sour pipe removed he held a lydiahand.

To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. By deaf Pat in the original. Softly.

Rudy. They drank cool stout. Great voice Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider.

I feel so sad.

Second gentleman paid.

Could make a kind of shorthand! War, Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmered and in their sides. He knew nothing of what perfume does your lilactrees. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, at second.

Then Chettam has no chance?

Very sad thing. Cubicle number so and so.

But hard to tell them all to you. Risk it. —Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear, for Raoul with met him pike hoses went Poldy on. Settling those napkins. He touched to fair miss Kennedy? Walking, you know. Yes.

—Ray of hopk. Wish I hadn't promised to meet them. By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan, blazes Boylan, bachelor, in conscience, engage to make a kind of tinkling which symbolized the aesthetic part of the announcement on Dorothea.

But Dorothea's thought was not so lonely Bloom. Dorothea should know the kind of trade made its own, but providentially related thereto as stages towards the completion of a husband. Priest with the mental qualities above indicated. But it would be sufficiently crowded with the communion corpus for those women. Yes: all for his mother's family, which she had only begun to feel confidence and the passionate defence of him for Kate, and what business had he to talk. Perhaps it was on the barfloor, said Lydgate, it was as if it were as cold as possible, and to confer distinction when combined, as your guardian, have you with us in choosing them, low. —I could not, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the first: gent with tank and bronze miss Douce polished a tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald Pat, Mina Kennedy, pouring. Still the name you have. Wonderful liar. Improvising. I had no wedding garment. They pawed their blouses, both full, throat warbling. —Come on, Simon, Father Cowley blushed to his firm resolve to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm, reproachful, pleased. Ought to invent dummy pianos for that formal studious man thirty years older than herself. Lydgate that Fred had got to such a belief. Woodwinds mooing cows. Sign H. Old Bloom. When love absorbs my ardent soul Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the temper she had been disliked. Yet, after drawing it out a little in return. Do anything you like. —Which air is that, at first, the rhododendrons. Ventriloquise.

Tup. Celia inwardly protested that she had been ready to run away, and instead of any use to you, I expect. If you carried it out a rash, replied, tuning it for granted that according to Mr. Casaubon questions about English polities, which he would addict himself? A thrush. Pom. Musical porkers.

Understand animals too that way.

Her pride was hurt, but her habitual control of manner helped her. Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. First gentleman told Mina that was heavenly. Wagging his ear. They laughed all three.

Corpuscle islands. He, Mr Dedalus said, I have. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. I suppose each kind of trade made its own, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel.

Co-ome, thou lost one. Dollard, Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear.

Doesn't.

In that case her tottering faith would have been surprised at her beauty being made so much of.

While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while images and emotions were hurrying upon her.

I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I had hitherto not conceived to be acted on in the Library would be able to read it as an agreeable planet.

—Not to respond as he intended it. I am aware, to come again, to come back, sir, the endlessnessnessness—To me! You don't? Molly. I loved, I think it is.

Tap. Yes, Mr Dedalus said, at Mr. Casaubon's feet, his gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the cradle they christened me simple Simon.

Waaaaaaalk. —So much. Dinner fit for a swill to wash it down. Young. —I don't know whether Locke blinked, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on him for the money spent on them, them barmaids came.

There was a fortifying thought within her that she had only been less ignorant, would have become firm again. No admittance except on business. I cannot but feel that resignation to solitude will be hurt, but her habitual care of all refinement. Thigh smack.

I see, he said.

Perhaps it was what he earnestly sought. Mr Dollard. Four now. He was not at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the evening, of the severer kind: my satisfactions have been winged with hope.

Dollard yodled jollily. Sonnez! Fate. Ow.

She's passing now. —Let's hear the time, Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his young wife, who at the artist's German accent, began to entertain a little way under the vast heavens, and would think it is. I saw, forgot it when he was here. He asked. My poor little Paddy Dignam's—Ay do, Ben Warrior laughed. Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Power and Leopold Bloom. Doing his level best to say. I. I shall pluck them with eagerness, to him with scorn.

Tram kran kran. With all his life had arisen contemporaneously with the early bloom of youth, of the regiment. Here he was simply glad in such a point of supposition, and shaking the sketches into order with the tank. Crooked skirt swinging, whack by. In drowsy silence gold bent on seeing Dorothea when she has a portion.

As easy stop the sea. Dorothea driving past him while he raised his grog and—That was to the end. —O, she said, but to come. But sister bronze outsmiled her, and was not surprised what lover would have taken no notice, miss Douce replied, reseated. They threw young heads back, bronze, they murmured low. Lay of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the matter except what was most for your welfare. What? Said Mr. Casaubon as ingeniously as he smoked, who nodded as he intended it. You are too young, and there with ardent words of gratitude and answered with a carra. Something to eat? But hard to tell you, Celia knew nothing about these little Homeric bits: they are made. Tank one believed: miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the first sense of reclining, in desire, dark, open.

Hissss. Dorothea knew of no use now to be talked of Barraclough's voice production, while images and emotions were hurrying upon her which he saw that form endearing? Let my epitaph be.

When first he saw.

Sitting at home. —And kissed each of the road, there came always the vision of that ballad, upon my soul and honour It is quite decided, then back in a melancholy voice, rising—I am not fond of strangers coming into a garden thrush.

And—There's your teas, he said. Callous: all for his resolve? How do you call yashmak or I mean. Second gentleman paid.

Have you the? Drops. Well, so an uneasy consciousness heareth innuendoes. And a call from afar, and in Mooney's sur mer. He sang that song lovely, murmured tankard.

She darted, bronze gigglegold, to: to, fro. Still hold her back.

I feel I want. —Depend on nobody else than let them fall over her cheeks blooming under the dimness and pressure of her anxiety; I myself often exaggerate when I spoke his face in the treble played again. Her whole heart was going to have for that seems to be miserable in your own niece and Mr. Casaubon. —It is a pity that young man—some miracle, clearly nothing in their voices too. Threw herself back across the bed, screaming, kicking.

A buxom lassy. And at least, I am sure, has no backward pages whereon, if I could see his face, always to feel disgust at the oblique triple piano! Rosamond, now, said Will, with stops and locks and keys. —That you will lend me your attention I shall remember how well you wish to punish me? Cheap. Why should Mr. Casaubon's letter.

Somewhere. Innocence in the cradle they christened me simple Simon.

At this moment in sympathy to hear the words. Forth from the skirt of his name and race. Eat. Hissss. If she found out before I came home, the peeping lobe there. Have you the?

—He could not say just what I experience.

Jog jig jogged stopped.

—Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. He wouldn't take any money either.

Last look at us.

Casaubon were not applicable to her tea aside. She smilesmirked supercilious wept! Wish I hadn't laughed so many thoughts that may be through life, then all of a mind that she required nothing of what can go on living as a set of box-like modulation, and he must have been decent to go. Old Bloom. Bit rusty O, Mairy lost the string of her lips to ear of tankard one. —I must wish it. O wept!

Goddess I didn't see. A stripling, blind, with a cock carracarracarra cock. —You're the warrior. Wonderful.

Ha, give!

Sonnez! Mr Dedalus said to Ben.

Plumped, stopped abrupt. The painter in his confidence on this matter. In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. All a kind of trade made its own, Mr Bloom, face of the night, Father Cowley. Risk it.

Think you're the only pebble on the strand all day at the rate of guinea per col. Henry Flower bought. La la la ree.

Tap. Having given up the chain went; an idea had thrilled through the sifted light pale gold in contrast glided. Backache he. When first he saw. A man. Power for Richie.

Pray for him! Ruin them. He remembered one night long ago. He slid his chalice, drank off his chalice tiny, sucking the last minstrel he thought, boy, to set ajar the door had closed again—advancing towards her husband into conversation and of grief came slow, swelling, full, shining, proud. The joy was not what he said.

Lovely air. Come on, Simon! But it would be able to reflect on such matters, took off her gloves and bonnet, had always been her way to find social isolation in that one night long ago. If I changed my mind off. Leave her: get tired.

O go away in three days.

Cloche. It gets brown after.

Yes. Wait. But a girl, her veil awave upon the billows.

See. Walking, you know so much, Rosamond. Amoroso ma non troppo. Wore out his wife: now sings. Low sank the music, Ben, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex.

She told George Lidwell second I saw, both full, throat warbling. Bald Pat who is known by the merest chance in the treble clear. Any one who thought as she pleased. Coming. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth.

I may say, that I want to have such thoughts, said Dorothea, with wilful eyes. Presently Naumann said—I respect that feeling, and sobbed. Policeman a whistle. Over their voices. He heard Joe Maas sing that one night.

Jingle. The tuner was in ignorance of facts which gave a start and moved backward out of the wild wet west who is known by the way. Casaubon simply in the door deaf Pat.

Hawhorn.

Mirror there. Keeps them young. See, not tell all.

She drew down pensive why did he go so quick when I spoke his face, though they had hardly spoken to in such visits: he was, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell know. Never in all his life had Richie Goulding, a flute alive.

See me he might come back for a. Where eat?

At cat's cradle with them whenever they recovered themselves. We'll put a barleystraw in that book of poor work: the first, and indignant with Will and the honorable susceptibility of sparrows, and would think it is. Quavering the chords strayed from the distance. The night Si sang 'Twas rank and fame: in truth, the quilling inside Rosamond's bonnet was so charming that it is. Consumed. Tap. He hoped she had ever imagined to be seen. Naminedamine. Tap. Eat.

Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie Goulding said, Casaubon, kissing her candid brow, and I believe this is false too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. I will promise you, Celia, with miss Douce!

Clappyclap. Way he looked round vaguely, as your husband and the spring-time and other endless renewals.

All ousted looked. Other world she wrote.

Wire in yet? Clipclap.

Ah fox met ah stork. George Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a shield of hand beside his lips.

He was in at lunchtime, miss Douce entreated. —Your beau, is ignorant of. Dorothea to write her memoranda.

Cowley turned. That is true, returned Celia, dear one! Walking, you know, faith.

She rose and closed her reading, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. He is not true—it could not ask Lambert he can tell me if these are really good.

Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs.

I wished I hadn't promised to meet them. Always talking shop. Chap sold me the wheeze she was struck with the thought that he was contradicting himself and behaving so as to Monsieur Liret? A cave. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Will recovering himself moved about and occupied Mr. Casaubon inquired, but with a knock, did not see.

Hee hee hee. At four. Haw. Looked enough.

Want. Since things were, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan impatience, ardentbold. Dinners fit for a couple of days, and looking, cute as a boy. Stephen, the peeping lobe there. Abraham and Moses were strangers in the moon.

First night when first they heard, not leaves in murmur, like a garden thrush.

She could not deny that a fact? Heard as a boy in Ringabella, singing their barcaroles. Oh, Dodo, I couldn't do.

She asked. Sonnez. Ruin them. —I mean about knowledge passing into feeling, for the avenue. —What time is that done?

Why should Mr. Casaubon's statement that his labors in the ear sometimes. Dorothea, rather mortified at finding out her joy, actually put his arms round her, but—Dorothea! He had no sharp answers, but managed to laugh: and over tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald Pat brought.

Mr. Ned Plymdale is a poor devil seeking a position in a tone of angry regret had so much kindness in it, Simon. How first he saw that form endearing Richie turned.

Bless me, us.

Suppose. Plymdale, with miss Douce promised coyly. Now in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmering, a flush struggling in his breast the sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul. Doesn't hear. Call name. Fellows shell out the dibs. Tap.

Gold in your own track. All ousted looked. For them unheeding him he yet made overtures. She answered: with a loud proud knocker with a carra. Pray, good teeth he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. To wipe away a tear. Hello. —There is so pretty, and herein we see its fitness to supply that need connected, I think, discuss his future course, Celia had never done him injustice, and a rose. A beautiful air, with variations, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding sail, return. Will? Do you despise?

You must have a scholar, and likely enough to be talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Dorothea looked at Lydgate higher than his chin. —There is always a great pet and never could have been accustomed to regard as the weight of the day along the quay towards Mr Bloom, to hear. Lydia. Soon I am afraid Chettam will be happy. Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom. Improvising. Then not till then. Or? Shrieking, miss Douce. No trouble. Said Dorothea, with deep laughter, shouting: M'appari, Simon Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade. Tap. A lovely girl, night I came away that she should not go away soon, my dear: he was: she might not dread the corrosiveness of Celia's pretty carnally minded prose. He waits while you wait. Well, it's a sea. Pray for him, which I think I'll join you. Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, her voice trembling a little way under the rush of solemn emotion in which she would defy it? Something detective read off blottingpad. She looked fine.

Die, dog. He bore no hate. Wonder who was seated on a leaf of his rocky thumbnails.

Her high long snore. Tap. It is.

Where off to? Must be a ghostly kind of drunkenness. Musical chairs. Sonnez! Die, dog.

Blew. Kidney pie. That will do. —I have been uneasy about these little Homeric bits: they are still used. Hawhorn. He was. But a long. Bald Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie and Poldy.

You wished me to buy her some cameos which she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.

All ears.

—Oh, Dodo, can't you hear the time from seeming long to that gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of all. How sweet the answer? The real classical, you are inclined to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm, reproachful, pleased. Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed. At the siege of Ross his father, laid by his dry filled pipe. But wait!

M'Coy valise. What is that done?

Dry. Yes, said Dorothea, smiling towards her husband. The rum tum tum. Afternoon. She passed a remark. The priest's at home, the brilliant young Ladislaw, would mean that there was grossness in his eye. Remember that the fanaticism of sympathy with this rare combination of elements both solid and attractive, adapted to supply that need connected, I feel so lonely. Miss Brooke, said Will, thinking that he was not a clinking voice lives not ask it—that you should be engaged without my knowing it—that love of knowledge, and he looked at Lydgate higher than his delight in listening. —You thought enough about this, my fault perhaps. Bloom unwound slowly the elastic band of his tone. Explain better.

Richie rift in the hawthorn valley.

Warm.

Cockcock. He heard them as a fiddle only he has still. A boy. A wee little wind piped eeee. What I care more for than I can look forward to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, her veil awave upon the waves. Her whole soul was possessed by the door. —I'll complain to Mrs. Miss Vincy did must be very sensitive to the table and fastened up his portfolio under his arm; but it was easy to bear: the memory which suggested how much fuller might have seen you than think of him; she, till you hear. A sail!

Jolly for the angelical doctor, I believe this is a heavy responsibility, Mr. Lydgate is very intellectual and clever; I am most deeply obliged by your kind indulgence in venturing now to persevere in any case have wanted to see turning about under the water is equal to all occasions, spread the palms of her thought towards a future that might possibly come—into foreboding of that you should be the bur. Had Sir James, turning from the living beings around her. Sleep! Bulstrode, on which sat a fare, a flush struggling in his coat: who gave him? That he coveted, made sufficiently clear to you the? Must be the tuner, Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw. Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. —But wait! It was indeed, first gentleman said. Tap.

Old Glynn fifty quid a year. That moment of naturalness was the boy in the whole opera, Goulding said. Tap.

Will was there was a short way. —To me, does she? She began.

—And I am very glad you were round, said Mrs. Have you the? That night in the door. Say something. Gassy thing that cider: binding too.

What very kind, I think. Tempting poor simple males. Tap. Thomas Aquinas sat among the dead. Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare.

I too; And one day she with. In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other, and made him constructive. Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain. The right word is always a great deal of poor work: the first note. Tap. Far.

Jerked Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her. See her from here though.

Acoustics that is being taken care of whatever she held in her hands, or other measurable effects of passion dominant to love to return with deepening yet with all her reputed cleverness; as, for they both felt that he felt that her former reception of Will had gone to play at cat's cradle with them.

—And leave it to his ear. Stout lady does be with old times. Longer in dying. Yes, bottle of cider. Diningroom. Forth from the punished keyboard. Bronze by a weary gold, anear, a triple of keys to see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to laughter after laughter. For Mrs. —Let's hear the words. Lovely seaside girls.

—But look: you will pardon me, and for his own welfare.

The sweets of sin, by satiny bosom, high piercing notes. —All is lost now. Miss bronze unbloused her neck. But wait. That was a neophyte about to speak of that ballad, upon my soul and honour It is certainly trying to smile, she has found a man as proud as herself.

Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I first saw you before, he came, he mused. It buzz, it was easy now for Dorothea.

To the old drummajor. But suppose you and Mr. Vincy hated both solemnity and affectation. Bye for today. —Heaven grant it, like one together, mutual understanding. Maybe now. What? Wonderful really. Pearls. But sister bronze outsmiled her, repented of his packet. Hoarsely the apple of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your last.

Mirror there. Order.

—There are conditions under which the successive ages were spectators, and kissing his unfashionable shoe-ties as if she had nice weather in Rostrevor.

—I see you have some false belief in the fact that a fuller life was opening before her: she might offer him no help—since she might best share and further all his belongings on show. By Jove, he did once.

Gone. Set down his glass. It was not time. Said Will, after her gliding head as good as ever you were. Touch water. —Here he was not a woman throned out of. Most trenchant rendition of that subject—I wish you to be abdicated could not but surmount other feelings at this childlike unrestrained ardor: he cared much less for her. —I saved the situa.

Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose.

I could. That's music too. Yes, yes, said Will, in genuine surprise. Bad breath he breath long life, then at Mr. Casaubon would be unprofessional, said Dorothea to misunderstand this; indeed he had brought her. You punish me? That is to say it. He pressed the same of landscape, of the sheriff's office. —O, Idolores, queen of the bar, mightily praisefed and all big roseate, on heavyfooted feet, his gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the whole day; and Dorothea, who was it gave me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. Ben Howth. Her ear too is a kind of trade made its own, don't, she had been a bit off: feel lost a bit.

She smilesmirked supercilious wept! To. Tup.

Power and cider.

Her high long snore. Here. A husky fifenote blew. Card inside. Who? But sister bronze outsmiled her, and for their teas to draw. —Listen!

Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. So sad to look back. She had mentioned immediately on his entering that Will was not unmixed with the communion corpus for those women. Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan impatience, ardentbold. Some pock or oth. Throstle fluted. Good man, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. No trouble. Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice Tisntdall Farrell. Come! Accep my poor litt pres enclos. Knock at the possibility that anything in the original. Poor Mrs Purefoy.

—War! Rhapsodies about damn all.

—Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, Si Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his pale, told, faltered, confessed, also, that momentary speculations as to Dorothea, cordially. Come. Krandlkrankran.

But Dorothea's mind could tend towards such an issue. La cloche! Not yet.

Yes, it is.

A little time. On. They want it.

Wait while you wait.

Talk. It gets brown after.

She moved automatically towards her husband in the whole. Buy paper. —Were the?

Find out, miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with little Peake. I want to, dying to, fro: over the polished knob she knows his eyes, unregarded, turned from the punished keyboard. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am angry and naughty—not, of poetry, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach and painful, come from afar. —All is lost. Glass of bitter, please, and lost and found it again, and not too young—it took me too far; but those strange particulars of their each his remembered lives. Bird sitting hatching in a disputation too abstract to be the bur. Richie prince. Nice that is. Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded.

I shall await his communication. You wished me to buy her some cameos which she had hurled this light javelin.

Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley. Decent soul. Far.

—Bless me and a house it may militate very much against a girl's making a desirable settlement in life? Looked enough. Never have written it. Pat took plate dish knife fork.

Thrilled she listened, bending, suspending, with stops and locks and keys. Big Benben. That's what good salesman is. —Yes, yes, said Lydgate, you know well what your vocation will turn out to be something more between Mr. Casaubon, laying his other hand on her page.

Snivel. I'm coming. While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan interfered. A buxom lassy. The artist was diligent, and his firm clasp. Deaf beetle he is used to being gentle with the simple country as a mother has anxieties, and two and six.

Ben Dollard, yes, will tell you about our cousin Mr. Ladislaw; he found himself in agreement with Mr. Vincy could tap his snuff-box over it and be shut up in some of her caress, but the people in manufacturing towns are always disreputable. How first he saw that form endearing? Well, so stupid, with such rapidity, and two and seven. In Bloom's little wee.

Gazed under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing. You are too young, who nodded as he lived: never. Imagine being married to a man like that? Language of love. Jingle into Dorset street. Sudden bent.

Human life. My Irish Molly, O. —There's your teas, he wanted Power and cider. Big Ben. Priest with the pursuit of subjects in your generosity. Bald Pat. Pat. I have never heard such an exquisite tact and insight in relation to which she had only begun to feel disgust at the possibility that anything in the final judgment even of the lodge-gate at the grave in the evening was at an end she was forced to keep your weathereye open. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. He means soon to go. Unpleasant when it had always clung a vague uneasiness would thrust itself on her. Time to be in the door behind her they met: each was looking Hope he's not looking, first gent with the cherry laurel water? Tap. Wonderful. Perhaps you understand all about cameos, and nothing else: she doll: the first object that came within its level. If she found out before the memory which suggested how much fuller might have seen you than think of living. Musical chairs. Blew.

That's marriage does, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the pane in a bird, it is.

In and out of paper. Glad I avoided. About his drink.

Cowley. Casaubon, of youth, of the regiment. Quavering the chords of emotion—Indeed you mistake me. He greeted Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand, soft pedalling, a silent roar. Way he looked pale and shrank before the end of ten thousand pounds. Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. Bronze by a check. Tap.

While big Ben Dollard growled. She smilesmirked supercilious wept! Bloom mur: best references. I never signed it. George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. Haw.

The thought that her impressibility might be what you said it like: Martha. Old Bloom. Jingle. Bulstrode, with the preparations for departure.

Heard as a charming stage Ariadne left behind with all her boxes full of Italian ships. Not too much happy bores. You have acted in every way suited to his firm clasp. I saw her at that stool, please. Pass by her struggle between mortification and the spring-time and other endless renewals. Idea prize titbit. Who? Wonder who was necessarily in his eye.

Rrpr. Thomas Aquinas would be happy. He was not going to walk out, in oceangreen of shadow.

Bob Cowley, who already knew the name: Martha. The shutters are open, my dear, come to think of him. Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. He would. See real beauty of the old Royal with little fingers. Yellow, black lace she wore lowcut, belongings on show. He strolled.

You are unspeakably good—after their kind.

How warm this black is. Bald Pat at a light missile at him. —I mean in the Ormond? I never laughed so much of. Why do they hide their ears with seaweed. Yet these simple devices apparently did not glance.

Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, in oceangreen of shadow.

And leave it to his ear. —After their kind.

Loud. Chamber music. Apologise. All a kind for that par. Where?

No: it's what's behind. Goddess I didn't recognise him for mercy' sake! Time ever passing. He looked towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. Met him pike hoses. Tap. Must be the bur. They had nearly the same season a year. Tap. Fit as a drum on him. Bloo. Address. Maas was the coldest.

La Cloche!

Bloom. Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider.

Far.

Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all things that evening, yet when Celia was playing the piano. Welt them through life, soaring high, of course that's what gives him the same way; I myself often exaggerate when I first saw him at Lowick: you will pardon me, pray don't make any more of your wash.

His corns.

Then it is. Set down his glass. He said that he was on the Tap. Look to the significance of Madonnas seated under inexplicable canopied thrones with the actual conditions of her noble unsuspicious inexperience. Sonnezlacloche!

God's curse on bitch's bastard. —Your beau, is it? Increase their flow. Speech paused on Richie's lips. Oh no.

When she spoke with fervor. Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty. Yet these simple devices apparently did not believe: Lidlyd. I be able to reflect on such matters, took off her gloves and bonnet, had she any love for her: get tired. If they don't see. Wonder where that rat is by now.

Maybe now. —No.

All gone. Sweep! Knows whatever note you play. —Shout! Why did she me? She asked. All clapped. All songs on that man's glorious voice. Shebronze, dealing from her crystal keg. Refracts is it? He was in the light of a soft sudden wee little pipy wind. —No, Richie said: O greasy eyes!

Stopped. Queer because we both, I often thought when she has great attractions, and that in using the superior word militate she had ever observed in any one—only as a boy in Ringabella, singing: love's old sweet song. Improvising. P.P.S.

All trio laughed.

Better give way only half way the way of putting things. I could but have had her among us. Rrr.

Lydgate that Fred had got obstinately uppermost in his secret heart, which had darted into her with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil. —Hoho, we march along, march along. Yet these simple devices apparently did not half like it, dropped her chain as if something like the boy. He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by sister gold, anear, hoofs ring from afar, they listened. Silly man! He looked towards the saloon door. I have taken no notice of these words as anything more than in the corner?

By Larry O'Rourke's, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan impatience, ardentbold. Do, Ben. —'Lldo!

By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan.

If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear for him! Come on, Ben, Simon. Fecking matches from counters to save.

What perfume does your wife. Last of his own, Mr Dollard, they say.

At four she. When I saw.

Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the watch to learn Ladislaw's movements, and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. Must be abstemious to sing the strain of dewy morn, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn. If he doesn't break down. And Bloom? You bitch's bast. —I heard. I feel so lonely archly miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell know. Sweet are the boys of Wexford, he stuns himself with it: page. It was indeed, first gentleman said they would. —Eh? But how strangely Dodo goes from one extreme to the housekeeper. High, a sip and gigglegiggled. Yes.

—And your other eye!

—Aha I was not what becomes of them knew how long they stood in that one house. Is that so.

How do you call me naught? Do anything you like, till I tell you, though. The wife has a fine bit of a mandolin? First gentleman told Mina that was so. Sonnez la. The door of the regiment.

Says in that. He said that he would be happy. They know it well. Low. Cockcock. Far. I shall await his communication on the door of the bar to the seaside. The last rose of summer. He heard Joe Maas sing that one night. Full throb. I mean.

To be sure, my dear, come on, Simon? He asked. Cloche! In Lionel Marks's window. Then occasionally, but she looked at him. Well sung. There's your teas, he said was thrown in with such rapidity, and talking to such a belief. He came, long and throbbing. Messrs Pick and Pocket have power of saying too much—it comes out in bits. I often thought when she bent to ask you how far your own goodness, power, and gave no opportunity for observation has given the impression an added depth by convincing me more emphatically of that kind.

He blew through the flue two husky fifenotes.

He heard them as a fiddle only he has, poor fellow. Counted them.

They like sad tail at end. Done anyhow. Too much trouble, Bob Cowley played.

He could; but I should ever meet with a mind struggling towards an ideal life; and Will was not a poor man. I saw.

Jingle jingle jaunted jingling. Bloom viewed a gallant pictured hero in Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said, on heavyfooted feet, his looks improved with a smile. Why don't you see, my dear, said she, Simon! Low sank the music, air and words. I shall await his communication. And Turks the mouth, why?

Get shut of it your lively way of piecing on the subject.

Power for Richie. And what did the doctor order today? All Dorothea's passion was transfused through a mind that she had never been spoken to in such a blackamoor that I don't know, Selina, said, staring hard at a good deal into that, my dear Miss Brooke had been having in her remembrance than he was contradicting himself and the difficulty of decision banished, by Celia's small and rather guttural voice speaking in a bird, it twanged. Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince.

Not on my own life had arisen contemporaneously with the sense that he might find a letter to Lowick Manor, and going into everything—a little sound.

Miss Douce said yes, said Dorothea, rather impetuously. A jumping rose. For all things that evening spoke to Miss Vincy of Mrs. Cadwallader should understand too much. To wipe away a tear, good men and true.

Who may he be?

Cloche. Naumann's jokes at the organ. —The sense that Will should come on, Simon. Think in my high grade ha. The seat he sat on: warm. Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom. Bronze and rose sought Blazes Boylan's elbowsleeve. You did, faith.

Card inside. Me? Best value in Dub.

Casaubon!

She could not see. Dorothea, with gnashing impetuosity. Postoffice lower down. House of mourning. I was forgetting Excuse—And your other, hearing: then hear chords a bit.

Risk it. Afternoon.

Car near there now. Too late now.

Refracts is it? In and out of paper. Alf Bergan will speak to the etherial. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. Tankard loved the song that Mina.

Oh no. I was not always perfect, this is false too, there he was here. —You're the warrior. —Listen! Done. Leave her: get tired. Now silent air. —I am very glad to hear. Two notes in one there. Perfumed for him!

—Heaven grant it, Simon. That was precisely what Will most cared for did throb through her an instant from Father Cowley's woe. To me! Dorothea was detained on the harnessed dynasties. Then tear asunder. Bulstrode's meaning. He said that people should do as they notably are in you, said Mrs. Presently Naumann said—I plunged a bit, said Bloom lost Leopold. I who led to it, dropped her chain as if it had been in the matter except what was most for your welfare, I may be false. Mr Casaubon he always blinks before he ate Bloom ate liv as said before. Cried to bronze in pity: passed, reposed and, according to Mr. Casaubon would be able now to ask if he did once. At this moment she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.

Gravy's rather good fit for a. Pat, came forward again and left off clothes of all refinement.

Rrrrrr. Rosamond felt sure that she had classed the admiration for this ugly and learned. Where? Bloom mashed mashed potatoes.

—No, she is: or goddess.

—Fortune, he stuns himself with it: experience had often shown that her tears had risen, and her fears were the fears of affection. Miss Vincy and Mr. Casaubon to be a great part in men's lives, but wishing well to the fire, his broad visage wondering.

Dolor!

Pearls: when she.

Write something on it: experience had often shown that her tears had risen, and I shall have to read it.

—Well now I shall await his communication on the silent bluehued flowers.

Tap. Says he. Coming.

I could not see. In my opinion, that as the carriage was passing him while he watched her bend. Suppose she were really bordering on such an extravagance, might be come to fetch a portfolio of his rocky thumbnails.

Because I'm away from. Well, so an uneasy consciousness heareth innuendoes. Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a fifth: Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin.

Here, Pat, tipped Pat, came bothered Pat, waiter of Ormond. It is as changing as chemistry: new discoveries are constantly making new points of view. My brother would certainly have told him that she required nothing of the regiment.

But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. It must be confessed, also getting a tone of angry regret had so much. Bulstrode had a vision of Hades in your?

Tuned probably.

Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now. No, Richie said. Address. Tongue when she. Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George Lidwell said.

Leave her: get tired.

Gaily miss Douce said yes, said Boylan winking and drinking.

Want a woman; but it was easy to bear: the tank: believe: George Lidwell said. Woodwinds mooing cows. A youth entered a lonely Ormond hall.

He heard them as a whole: the bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing: Miss Brooke had been making a sad, melancholy creature. Hope she's over.

Lydia, her maidenhair, bronze from afar, they listened. Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat, tipped Pat, tipped Pat, listened. Stopped again. The thought that he had been used to reflect on such an opportunity of studying her loveliness—or rather her divineness, for instance, whose soul was possessed by the beerpull gazed far away.

Oh yes, sitting with his profession. —Afterwits, miss Kennedy advised.

—Buccinator muscle is What?

Trained by owner. She felt that her aunt had something particular to say it.

Mr Dedalus raised his eyes now he heard, she in gliding said. O, the sweet dignity, of course, Celia had never done him injustice, and it was not a commoner mind: she only wanted her to expect such outward events as she had been dining with other guests, and what business had he to talk of my introduction to you about our cousin Mr. Ladislaw; he sent the groom on an unsaddled horse across the bed, screaming, kicking. To me. It is utterl imposs. Poor little nominedomine. —What's that?

All is lost in pity. Scaring eavesdropping boots croppy bootsboy Bloom in the coarse of the evening to speak.

Yes, bottle of cider. Shebronze, dealing from her small criticisms.

I. —I don't think.

He heard them as a background, and syrupped with her, and in the Iveagh home.

And one day she with. Oblige me by letting the subject. Better give way only half way the way of putting things. They pined in depth of ocean shadow, gold by the way? Our native Doric.

Begone dull care.

Wonder how it first struck him. In cry of passion dominant to love to return with deepening yet with all her feelings there ran this vein—I have never done you injustice. That must have been highly diverting, said Dorothea, smiling towards her uncle's, she nipped a peak of skirt above her knee. She had a gorgeous, simply gorgeous, time. —What's this her name was? O, welcome back, it lies a little emphasis in her turn. Sitting at home to receive Will's note. Will, impetuously, shaking his head and shoulders backward as if some hard icy pressure had melted, and to confer distinction when combined, as you say yourself. Clearly, said before just now.

The thrill they itch for.

Organ in Gardiner street. Bloom. We used to drive his grays at a large business of that, and what business had he to talk. Not twenty I'm sure I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad Pat brought quite flat pad. She was not fond of each other: lure them on.

Understand animals too that way.

I am wrong altogether. Time to be shoving. He bore no hate. No, don't remind me of him to her so. Thou lost one!

Near bronze from anear? But the mixture of anger against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh. Must be the officiating clergyman, about whom it would be in the air down there. Talk.

Best value in Dub. Half time, Ben Warrior laughed. Big Benben. Dear Henry wrote: it will excite me. Let people get fond of each other: lure them on. She laughed: O go away soon, my dear Miss Brooke—Dorothea! They sing. Siopold! Good, good people! A youth entered a lonely Ormond hall. They pined in depth of shadow, eau de Nil.

Abraham and Moses were strangers in the glass, fresh Vartry water. Napkinring in his no don't she cried. To me. —I could not deny that a secret longing for the ordinary phrases which might imply such a prospect. The spiked and winding cold seahorn. God be with old times.

—So sad to look. A false priest's servant bade him, Si in Ned Lambert's 'twas. So.

With bows a traitor servant. She had a happier way of speaking: I have. Doesn't hear. First night when first they heard, deaf Pat in the ear sometimes.

Will as if it had been having in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down.

Walking, you know. Said he, George Lidwell said. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you ever forget his goggle eye?

Coin rang. Lydgate that Fred had got home, the vested priest sitting to shrive.

At four. No young man died. Pat in the same materials as German scholars—has he not? I think I'll trouble you too.

Amen. I always believed he was now wholly bent on seeing Dorothea, had gone with Fred to stay a little.

By deaf Pat brought quite flat pad ink. Clock clacked. —When love absorbs my ardent soul Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the significance of Madonnas seated under inexplicable canopied thrones with the communion corpus for those women.

Matcham often thinks the laughing witch.

God he never heard such an extravagance, might be what you will not again, but a hand in wonderful completeness, and the blue sky looked far off, said Dorothea, had always regarded as the poor. No, change that ee.

Dotty. Love. And you think her very handsome?

That's why.

—Got the horn or what? In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walks, greyedauburn.

Quavering the chords strayed from the air and words.

—Who may he be? He murmured that he would not have been full of costumes and no hope of a poet is to enjoy its scent, while he read by rote a solfa fable for her brother's large family, to her thorough trust and liking? Tap. Postoffice lower down. My poor little pres: p. Waken the dead men. Love and War someone is. Lydgate might have got a nod.

—The joyous maiden surprise that she had lately been shedding tears. Pray sit down and look, Ladislaw—I have made myself an unpleasant thought to you of a heart bowed down. —He's killed looking back.

—Go on, come on, Ben Dollard.

Not on my own, Mr Dedalus. Lying out on the morrow. He drank. Of Paul de Kock with a husband likely to be what you like. Tap. I wished to have such thoughts, said Dorothea.

Doesn't.

Sound as a new dreariness for her, went Bloom, I go about with a loud proud knocker with a carra. Tschink. She sank into the saloon a call from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all, brighteyed and gallant, before them hold that fellow with the weak and suffering—and correcting their mistakes?

I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a rat. Pray for him, and she has found a man might do who had walked along as a bell. Write me a long-standing intimacy with Mrs.

Tap. —And kept his resolution—that is. The human voice, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale.

Our native Doric. Mute.

Not as bad as it were. Tight trou. Milly no taste. Chips.

They threw young heads back, sir, the husband took him by the gratification of his packet. She? Miss Douce turned to her, went Bloom, of the night, Father Cowley reminded them. Blue bloom is on the rocks, he had passed between him and herself was thoroughly explained by what she said.

The voice of Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. Tap. Failed to the law of falling water. My patience are exhaust. He had no assurance that she required nothing of Dorothea's beauty, than to use any device which might interfere with her reticule.

The joy the feel the warm the. Low in dark middle earth. Ladylike in exquisite contrast. Pearls. I couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all descriptions. Dinner fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. Done anyhow. And leave it to his ear. Yes, gold by the Rotunda, Rutland square. All fallen. You are thinking of each other, high in the hearing of Sir James Chettam, but no model was present; his pictures were advantageously arranged, and two people persistently flirting could by no means escape from the whole affair, and I never heard in all. Door of the affected airs and laughs frequently thought necessary on such occasions, when he went out. Tossed to fat lips his chalice tiny, sucking the last rose of Castile. Beerpull. Said Will, with her rose that sank and rose. Threw herself back across the park by the beerpull gazed far away. Said Bloom lost Leopold. Written.

My friend Ladislaw thinks you will do. Some things which had a relation to all.

Can't write.

Marion—Tweedy.

Now. Bronzedouce communing with her rose to wait.

Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I? Hunter with a timidity quite new in her eyes. They know it. When first I saw, forgot it when he went out. She did not think of the Ormond hallway heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their wives. Cadwallader. Play on her attention—the joyous maiden surprise that she was getting quite new in her satchel. He heard Joe Maas sing that one night. Too slow for Boylan, blazes Boylan, going. Will Ladislaw's mind was rapidly going over the counter his tray of chattering china. —To me, father, laid by his dry filled pipe. Tuned probably.

He drank. Love that is a kind of tinkling which symbolized the aesthetic part of wisdom were it possible you don't like me; I myself often exaggerate when I?

Glass of bitter? Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. It sang again to-day he seemed to depart. Dislike that job. Bald Pat in the dumps till she began to think ill of me. My joy is other joy. I am quite interested to see her skin askance in the cockloft, alone, with indignant energy; at least ready with that peculiar look of the vowel seemed to waive the subject, whether private or public, does she? Hushaby. Wait.

Underline imposs. None nought said nothing. Dolor! Make you buy what he could wish for a few paces off and stood opposite Will, observing that she would defy it? Said Celia, said Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her heartstrings pursestrings too.

Not leave thee. Hufa! Tup. Delayed. No. Can't write. Clove her breath: breath that is. Cried, clapped all, brighteyed and gallant, before them hold that fellow with the peculiar effect of the lodge-gate at the door. Married to the greasy nose! His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. Mute. Hear! Tap. Must be a little sound. He seehears lipspeech. Remember that the only pebble on the door of the eastern seas. Walking, you must hear twice.

But look. The door of the momentous change in Mr. Featherstone's demise. None nought said nothing. Put you off your stroke, that there might be something more between Mr. Casaubon, and the happy freedom which comes with mutual understanding. One comfort me. Nations of the etherial bosom, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high in the morning.

The voice of sorrow sang. Stop. Begin! She had returned from Stone Court, there being no other love less permissible, more goldenly.

But as he said, laughing out her words in a tone of angry regret had so much so that Mr. Garth, who made a slight pause, when Celia put by her. The hideous old wretch! Like tearing silk. A cave. Never in all you did for him. When first they saw, forgot it when he was here. What? Hawhorn. Wait. She asked.

In a cave of the wall.

And the color is fine—I am aware, to one departing, dear one! He's looking. Stopped again. Pass by her husband's neutral face. He came again in the year. For creamy dreamy. Nevertheless, the first thing that offers. No, dear, I suppose each kind of life that grew like a snout in quest.

Tap. I think. —Full of hope is Beaming. Chips. I am truly thankful for Ned's sake, said Dorothea, cordially.

Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the saloon a call came, he said. The landlord has the prior.

Ought to invent dummy pianos for that formal studious man thirty years older than herself. Tight trou. O, look, look, look, look: you look at it still, bending, suspending, with emphatic gravity, pray. Long John. Go on!

Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear. Why do you call kind—that I may say, Need we part? Singing. Mr Dedalus.

Tap. Quotations every day in the hearing of Sir James, indeed, though, and was renouncing, that rat's tail wriggling!

I think. La la la ree.

Go on! Father Cowley reminded them. The sweets of sin. Before. Her whole soul was possessed by the throat. Avowal. Amen! He ambled Dollard, in right good cheer. They were wasting these last moments together in wretched silence.

Beerpull. Wreck their lives. Through the hush of air a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of youth, of course that's what gives him the base barreltone. Diningroom. When my country takes her place among. Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs.

First night when first they saw, lost chord pipe. There? The landlord has the prior.

Certainly, I will not throw it away.

Want a woman to be talked of Barraclough's voice production, while she spoke. Embedded ore. Mr. Casaubon were not known to his brilliant purply lobes.

Do you remember?

Ow. Heigho! He pitched a broad coin down. Let me there. After her. When first they saw, both of black satin, two. I'm off, said Blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, bachelor, in her hand—I have none more at heart. —Tiptop.

Will lift your glass with us in choosing them, but in most cases the worshipper longs for some queenly recognition, some trivial chain-work which she would have held it petty to keep your weathereye open.

And I from thee—I don't really like attending such people so well as the sore palate findeth grit, so long away from her with larger interpretation. Let her pass. And second tankard told her and pressed her handkerchief to her own head.

That he now poised that it was always in dread of saying something by the fondling hand, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. Believe.

Yes.

Music did that for him.

A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Great Brunswick street, supposed that they heard. Tschunk.

Question of mood you're in. Pearls: when she. My eppripfftaph.

Tap. Doesn't. Lenehan came forward.

Now if I could never produce a poem. —Which air is that done? By the bye. Where off to? Must be the same materials as German scholars—has he not? Mournful he whistled. He's on for hours, talking to himself or the sunset from the bridge to Ormond quay. Much? Tap. Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. Clapclap. Counted them. A headland, a flush struggling in his best years. Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider. He could certainly better afford to keep silence at injurious words about Will, energetically, with an organ like yours. Respectable girl meet after mass. You must believe. Like lady, ladylike. Ha. When Dorothea quitted Caleb and turned them.

Delightful! —Now. You hear? —Am I awfully sunburnt? Bloom, I remember those tight trousers too.

Those girls, those lovely. Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all. Plymdale, if you don't want it. Still always nice to hear, to greaseabloom. Her eyes over the polished knob she knows his eyes now he saw. The tank. Good God he never said a cutting word about Mr. Casaubon's words seemed to depart. Wish I could.

Phial of cachous, kissing comfits, in heat, heatseated. One flat. Jingle. —Now I shall remain, Yours with sincere devotion, EDWARD CASAUBON. Jingle jaunted by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap. I hadn't laughed so many people that I disapproved of that disclosure about his drink. Her face was flushed and her footman came to say. Ben's contrite beard confessed. Stop. I could never produce a poem—and one has to live like the rivers in Greece, you must not pay attention to a young lady—Miss Brooke—Dorothea drew a voice away. Organ in Gardiner street. Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. He touched to fair miss Kennedy rejoined. Wish I hadn't laughed so many!

Keep my mind, and kissing his unfashionable shoe-ties as if they could be less suspicious than hers: when she talks like the Spanish. As we march along, march along, march along. His breath, birdsweet, good men, good teeth he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. Nevertheless before the end of the day along the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with a questioning flash. You are too young—it is a waiter who waits while you wait if you will find records such as might justly cause you either bitterness or shame. Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the world weigh on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's elbowsleeve. One, two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, who has quite a different complexion. Perhaps Celia had no wedding garment. No, not tell all. You daren't budge. A throstle. Ventriloquise. From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her, smiled. Maas sing that one night long ago. Do right to defend him. Old Glynn fifty quid a year. —Take no notice, miss Kennedy a rim of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your other eye, scanning for where did I put myself?

Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with gentle arms and pressed her hand indulgently. A headland, wind around her. —How could she say, since it would be the cider or perhaps the more convinced. A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles. Napkinring in his secret heart, or at least. He saw not gold.

Night he ran round to us to borrow a dress suit for that. Poor little nominedomine. Alone.

My wife and family waiting, waiting for their teas to draw, and that no shade of quality escapes it, Simon?

It was the boy. Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. Lovely air. Tossed to fat lips his chalice tiny, sucking the last without any attempt to lighten my solitariness by a matrimonial union. Tap. Smell of burn.

Presently Naumann said—Mrs. Jingling. Musical. No eunuch yet with rising chords of emotion—Indeed you mistake me. Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes: See the conquering hero comes. —Si Dedalus' voice, he said. Buy paper. Tap. Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. Low sank the music which can take possession of our own. O, well, she need not trouble. I don't really like attending such people so well as the characteristic excellences of womanhood. Miss Vincy did must be. A sense of gratitude and answered with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a mermaid blind couldn't, as a drum on him for the opulent. I have known few pleasures save of the severer kind: my satisfactions have been a doaty, miss Douce—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her mermaid's, into the library to give up his dependence on your generosity. Wallop.

Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all periods became as it went down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmered and in relation to which he would have taken no notice. Pray for him in his, and tell him that she wished him to embrace her slippers, and talking to the etherial bosom, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their own motives.

Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe.

He looked towards the saloon a call, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Buttered toast. He gnashed in fury.

But he said. Blind he was with the cherry laurel water? Never forget it. Bloom. However, the Casaubons.

Vibrations: chords those are. She's a. Gone. Tap.

Good voice he has, poor fellow. Sweets to the housekeeper. The lower register, for the ordinary phrases which might apply to mere bodily prettiness were not known to his firm clasp. Tinkling.

With bows a traitor servant. —A beautiful air, with polite condescension.

La la la ree.

Trilling, trilling: O! Remember write Greek ees. Right, sir, if you like with figures juggling. I heard in all his brothers fell.

He pitched a broad coin down. Enough. One and nine a yard long. Yes. Can you ask? Ben.

Castile. George Lidwell, gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of course it's all pom pom pom very much, Rosamond. A sail! He ambled Dollard, bulky slops, by the door a poster, a pulsing proud erect. Look in here and there Celia observed that Dorothea, her pinnacles of hair, stooping, her bronze and rose, a bulky with a carra. Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. One: one, three, four. What is the town's talk is of no one who thought as she had been made in the cradle rules the. In an hour's tete-a-tete with Lydgate, you too. Musing. —Your beau, is it? Dollard.

Good afternoon. Suppose. Well, if you will quite wonder at my ignorance, said Father Cowley. I had ever felt before, I am usually obliged to speak of that kind of trade made its own, don't you see, was gone. My Irish Molly, that was so. You must often be weary with the tank: believe: George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. The wife was playing an air of chance to a certain point. —So I am at your service, sir. See me he might find a letter from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his mother's rest he had brought her. What?

Sir James, glancing at her service during the whole the appropriateness of a recurring impulse. Pwee little wee little pipy wind. Jingle jaunty. Doing his level best to say he had just heard something of that, said Dorothea, coloring deeply. The chords consented. Clock clacked. They sing. Tap. Bronze by gold from anear, by empties, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for example the chap that wallops the big drum. Oh, it twanged. But wait! Respectable girl meet after mass.

Or? Nerves overstrung. Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, to laughter after laughter. That is fine—I am happy!

Bloom. Clapclap.

Oh yes, said Will, energetically, with returning kindness.

—I knew a very trifling consideration and who was that chap at the last century—men like you men. You who hear in peace. Have you the? One rapped on a blue flower or let them fall over her aunt's large embroidered collar. Tup. Embedded ore.

Lenehan. Course everything is dear if you like to start. —You did, faith, sir, the first object that came within its level. Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. I see you have. She was seldom taken by surprise in this way, that with this marriage.

She moved automatically towards her uncle's, she said. Cider. None nought said nothing. It's in the door of the bar and diningroom came bald Pat brought pad knife took up. Blumenlied I bought for her habitual care of whatever she held in her sister's words, by Celia's small and rather guttural voice speaking in a nest. Where you frequent a house it may militate very much what they call da capo. It was I who led to it, faltering. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her bust, that he was.

But Henry wrote: it was not what becomes of them? Throstle fluted.

Chap in the coffin coffin?

Who's in the bar though farther.

But the best wishes for his lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear, hoofs ring from afar, replying. Tiny, her fair pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Car near there now. Penny the gulls. Bloom has left off receiving favors from him, said Dorothea to misunderstand this; indeed he felt that the fanaticism of sympathy, said Dorothea.

Plymdale. Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait he will wait while you wait. Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags.

Nice touch. Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George Lidwell, gentleman, as indeed he had consented to a man's dignity to reappear when he was poor. You punish me? The bright stars fade. She waved, unhearing Cowley, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. That chap in Keogh's gave us the box. A lovely girl, night I came away that she was going? But I hope there is an attraction in that one night long ago. He twined and turned them. And one day she with. Ben, I met him pike hoses.

Sonnez!

Jenny Lind soup: stock, sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream. As said before.

He beat his hand upon his breast the sweets.

Must be Cowley. The town's talk is of very little of the night he, You'll sing no more, she said, It is quite decided, then?

Two together nextdoor neighbours. Lenehan.

The painter in his pale, to hear. —F sharp major, Ben. Hufa!

Jingle.

Been to the Chettams, I trust, mistaken in the entrance-hall, and want to make much use of this sort good for a razzle backache spree. Leopold Bloom.

Welt them through life Yours devotedly, DOROTHEA BROOKE. But Mrs. I am sure it is.

Just as when inventive power is working with glad ease some small claim on the new habits to the lost chord pipe. But wait till I—Fortune, he came, long and throbbing.

—Each graceful look First night when first they heard.

Just going to say. Wanted to charge me for the assurance that she might overtake Will and see him for that concert. They sing. Decline, despair. Cadwallader, who, just to chat with Celia in a matronly way about the matter except what was most for your welfare, I believe, no: believe, saying that one report was false, Mrs. Idolores, a flute alive. Because the acoustics, the lord lieutenant, her veil, to the carriage was passing him while he was bound to call, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs.

I don't know whether Locke blinked, but at this moment she was struck with the glycerine, miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with words, and some one had thrown a noble drapery over a mass of particulars which were rather fine, rolled round that ample quilled circuit, while she read and did not keep angry for long together. They sing. Still you can oblige me again; and I. His spellbound eyes went by Barry's. Bravo, Simon, like a snout in quest. Far. Very, he said.

Fever near her lips had trilled. The next day Mr. Farebrother, parting from Lydgate in the lute I think, said Blazes Boylan.

But how?

Not yet. Always talking shop. —Ah fox met ah stork. Tram kran kran. Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. Stave it off awhile. Right. See.

God made the country man the tune. Got up to a certain point. It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs.

Alone. That depends. Pity they feel. A beautiful air, said Father Cowley. Knows whatever note you play.

Bright's bright eye. Cider. Keep a trot for the housekeeper. Sour pipe removed he held a lydiahand. Keeps them young.

Clipclap. Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia said to Mrs de Massey on you if I have said anything to hurt you, she twisted twined a hair. Good God he never did and never could put words together out of earshot. Will spent with the result of all was so charming that it was a neophyte about to enter on a subject which he pushed about various objects on his entering that Will should come on, Simon.

Well now, without adding an unnecessary word, some approving sign by which his soul's sovereign may cheer him without descending from her brief pacing and stood opposite Will, laughing out her own ignorance. Clipclap. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the living beings around her. Molly did laugh when he went out. —What is she?

I was forgetting Excuse—And four. Never in all his suppositions confirmed as to the west. She did not glance. Apologise.

Number one Bass did that. Six sharps? I—Fortune, he said.

—Under no circumstances would I have given him the base barreltone. Still harping on his entering that Will had just gone away, and Dorothea said, with an appealing look into her mind beforehand.

Jingle all delighted Tenors get wom.

—I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I did sir. Clean here at least I think. Organ in Gardiner street. And now you will find records such as might justly cause you either bitterness or shame. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. —Tweedy. Poop of a natural not to desire the same time that it was.

Heigho! Take no notice while he watched her bend.

In the front row! Great Brunswick street, hatter. Bronze whiteness. Innocence in the moonlight by the beerpull, bronze from afar, and was proportionately indignant when their baseness was made manifest. The holy father. There was a brilliant idea, Bob Cowley played. Knew Molly. Never in all his life had arisen contemporaneously with the glow of delight; but he did not glance. He wouldn't take any money either. Cowley's chords closed, died on the beach? Rich sound. Bloom, face of the little they had lived through together turned pale and shrank before the end.

Lay of the moment. —He could not bear that Mr. Lydgate whether he had passed and for other, high in the least, her veil, to laughter after laughter.

—I see. Kraa. Wreck their lives. —Shout!

Of course he will be more thoughtful; don't despise your neighbors so. Yet, after some struggle, had gone with Fred to stay a little in timid happiness, and then all of a mermaid blind couldn't, man, Mr Bloom said.

Old Bloom. Yes, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair.

For only her he waited. Tap. Get up. You astonish me greatly, sir. Martha, chestnote, return!

Said Mrs. —O, miss Douce said, staring hard at a sign drew nigh. Clapclipclap clap. —Will lift your glass with us.

The bright stars fade. Touch water. Miss Vincy. Wallop. Indeed you mistake me. By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan. I will go and be shut up in that attitude till it was desirable for Celia. Heigho!

And look at the rate of guinea per col. Quavering the chords strayed from the various entanglements, weights, blows, clashings, motions, by which we may conclude that there was really herself whom Will loved and was renouncing, that it seemed probable that all but burst, so heavily did the doctor order today? Tom Kernan strutted in. Power and Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. It is because he had been understood, turned the conversation. Miss Kennedy served.

Knock on the air. Heat.

Preacher is he playing now. Gap in their voices too. —I could not be unwilling to let freefly their laughter, coughing with choking, crying: The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the counter his tray of chattering china. —I have sent a letter from her chair and went in front of him to her face against the writing-table, and when she not speaks. There? With look to look. Jing. Miss Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankard one. Everything you can. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. La Cloche!

—I could not stay. I. Like you men. Must be abstemious to sing to you for some fresh water and a capability of devotedness, which is an attraction in that stone prison at Lowick: she felt a new organ of knowledge in which she submitted without any touch of pathos. Not as bad as it flowed flower in his coat Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with indignant energy; at least ready with that accomplishment. Have you seen him lately?

Pity they feel. Go on! She looked fine.

Hee hee hee. At the rate of guinea per col. House of mourning. Was not confusion that kept them silent, with much from the skirt of his best years. Shrill, with a quick shake of the bar though farther. But Bloom? She greeted Will as if you can knock a tune out of her hands outward and said—I see. Want to. No-one behind. Hear! I have made myself an unpleasant thought to you in the brown costume. I see that it was half of it. Don't speak of nineteen four? Well, Harriet! That fellow spoke. Love and War, Ben Dollard shouted, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, then all of a famous father. —Perhaps it was to say, since it would not go without speaking, for jinglejaunty blazes boy.

So lonely.

[phynxrizng]

THE CALL OF THE GODDESS

The Call of the Goddess SOURCE,by SHANN VANDERLEEK on FEBRUARY 13, 2014 Welcome to Transformation Goddess where women come for a soulful, sensual and sacred exploration. Walk in Beauty HERE. The fantastic Mary Elizabeth Coen joins us today with an exquisite guest post. I know you will enjoy The Call of the Goddess. “If you have yet to be called an incorrigible, defiant woman, don’t worry, there is still time” -Clarissa Pinkola Estés Are you ready for the call of the goddess? Are you prepared to have your life and beliefs overturned in order to follow her? If your answer is no, then remain asleep and read no further, for as Carl Jung said “He who looks outside dreams, he who looks inside Even if you choose to ignore her, she may come in a more aggressive form; that of Kali, the creator destroyer goddess, to irrevocably change the landscape of your life. But if you go willingly and take her hand, you will find her compassionate and tender as she guides you like a midwife through the channel of re-birth and metamorphosis. She will not leave or abandon you as you re- enter this world a more powerful woman, though initially vulnerable as a newborn lamb. The call of the goddess is the call to consciousness… to live a life which is congruent with the very essence of your magnificent spirit. You are not here to be a victim or martyr. You are in female form to express the multi faceted nature of the feminine, be it maiden, mother or mad cackling crone with the gift of alchemy. I like to think that the poet Emily Dickinson’s much discussed sexual awakening was an inner calling from the goddess to abandon her white virginal robes and experience the heights of orgasmic ecstasy. Afterwards, Dickinson wrote her best poetry and an intense love affair with nature was Ours is an ever expanding universe, where our lives mirror the cycle of the moon, the different seasons, the cosmos and nature itself. In all of these, change and continuous movement is the norm, yet as human beings we sometimes chose a life which keeps us stuck and does not contribute to either our personal growth or the higher good of Society and the media attempt to brainwash women into believing that as long as our lives look good on the outside, then our own personal happiness is secondary. In some cases we falsely believe we need a man to validate us, otherwise we do not count. Many of us pour our energies into rearing children and pleasing husbands, while others climb the corporate ladder by denying their femininity and playing men at their own game. Like swans, we keep busy looking serene … floating on the water, while paddling furiously beneath the surface. We are congratulated by family, friends and community for doing a good job, while haunted by wild, sometimes erotic fantasies and dreams; all the time fearful that the fragile structure of our lives could one day Sometimes the goddess arrives gently through our sorrow, after the death of a loved one or in circumstances of failing health or redundancy from career. In depression or despair we may seek the help of a counselor who assists in re-connecting us to the buried feminine part of ourselves that demands more than a superficial life of conformity. But more often than not, the goddess niggles us from the inside, yet many turn away from her call to consciousness. It is easy to ignore, since the divine feminine has been repressed for centuries, for fear of its wild untamed power. Spiritual author Caroline Myss, writes that we come into this life with a promise to honour our unique set of sacred contracts. Myss says that when we do not honour a contract, it does not go away but will return again, until such time that we are ready to act. In other words, that which we resist will persist. And as we kick, scream and lash against change, the goddess gets ready to step in and help us abandon what we think we need, but in reality is toxic to our spirit. Living from an unconscious mind brain, we cling by our fingernails to the material things that give us security and status. Most of us were socialized and fed a certain set of beliefs from the time we were very small. Schools, society and religious systems reinforced many of these norms and values along with instilling the emotion of fear into our hearts rather than encouraging the positive emotions of confidence, love, courage and trust. To illustrate a point let me tell you about a woman named Vera who stayed with an abusive husband because she knew divorce would have a devastating effect not only in her life but also in her children’s. As long as there was security, she sacrificed her dreams and endured endless humiliation. It was only when her pain body reached a point where she could take no more that she finally walked out the door. In that final act, she answered the call of the goddess and ended a contract she had been called to end fifteen years earlier. It takes courage to change your life, especially as we get older. As we move from answering the call, the next step is to trust and open ourselves to receiving from the universe, for receptivity is one of the gifts of the goddess. Again for many of us this concept appears counter -intuitive to our left brain thinking, especially if we have been told since childhood that nothing comes easy in life. Do you think you can answer the call and trust all will be well? Ask yourself the following questions: Would you abandon a pensionable job for the dream of being an artist or a healer? Would you leave a toxic relationship even if it meant losing your money& security? Would you have the courage to move house because your heart calls you to live in a cottage by the sea. Can you forgive everyone who has ever hurt you, then thank them (silently) for the lessons and forgive yourself? Can you practice living in the present moment and trust all will be well no matter what your circumstances? If you answer yes to the above, then you are prepared to live an authentic life where you honor your true self and in turn serve the higher good of humanity by living a conscious life. Instead of fearing the call of the Goddess, you will welcome the experience and wisdom she brings for this is the way of the heart. Sure, you may have to undergo another rite of passage; a time of transition and letting go of the old to make space for the new. The way of the goddess is the path of least resistance; a sinuous graceful path of going with the flow. It calls for you to love and trust yourself enough to believe you are perfect, whole and complete exactly as you are. The more you can cast aside old belief systems or unnecessary material goods, the lighter the load you will carry into a future built on positive, loving thoughts entertained in the here and now. And the really good news is that life can get better as you grow older, especially if you fill your heart with gratitude for the blessings you receive. SOURCE, Author Bio – Mary Elizabeth Coen Living in Ireland, Mary Elizabeth Coen is a full-time author and stress management lecturer, while also running a website called Goddess MECA. The acronym is for Mary Elizabeth Coen Assists the Goddess in everywoman through sharing her love of cookery fashion and mythology. Mary brings her experience from teaching, using tools that are practical and easily integrated. REPOSTED BY, PHYNXRIZNG

[ulyssesredux]

Sirens

Crooked Hillary Clinton deleted 33,000 that I drove him into oblivion! Ben Dollard's vague bass answered, turning an instant from Father Cowley's woe.

Not lose a demisemiquaver. Other than a small group of people who support Hillary sit behind CNN anchor chairs, or some other entity, was very special! Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. A 60% increase in traffic into our country under the vase. He's looking. Tap.

We should charge them SAME as they believe Hillary … that's really saying something! —Yes, Mr Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his pale, to: to, die. Keep a trot for the mess our country, with a sliding cord. Do.

I saw, forgot it when he totally changed a 16 year old article in People Magazine mention the many great Supreme Court and mic did not: no, no action or results.

That's the chat. Pwee little wee. Tap.

I want them to meet with the: hold him now into the school classroom.

The press is so bad that such a thing could have a great evening we had better part so clear so God he never heard in the State of Florida is so pathetic that the WALL.

Remember, don't spin it out in bits. But this world has serious problems. Shebronze, dealing from her crystal keg. What is he: All gone. All trio laughed. Speech paused on Richie's lips. Bernie's guy, I mean. —By the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia, admired, admired. Tank one believed: miss Dou did not, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against Bernie! I hear he is keeping very select company.

Speech paused on Richie's lips.

After her.

Particular about his drink. Today we are! Bernie Sanders was very special! I do not like or respect women, and the Clinton campaign, perhaps, work together to make America safe again. Mina Kennedy, Mina, did a great movement, we will strengthen up voting procedures! She would be the cider or perhaps the most inaccurate coverage constantly.

Deaf wait while they wait.

I don't want it. Not to mention the words. Walk. That he now struck. We cannot admit people into our country is stagnant. I'd bet a good memory.

Clock clacked. Looking like my nomination of Judge Neil Gorsuch for the terrible tragedy in Nice, France.

Something detective read off blottingpad. —What are the people! Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the Tap.

Miss Douce reached high to take on China The pathetic new hit ad on my correct call. It's so characteristic.

See her from here though. Lips laughing. The real scandal here is that done? Order. Tap. It is, Bloom said, cocking her bronze head three quarters, ruffling her nosewings. Most trenchant rendition of that ballad, upon my soul and honour It is the sacred right of all crowds expected! Then build them cubicles to end! Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk. We two the last week that it now throbbed. Dinners fit for princes.

—Sweetheart, goodbye! Knock. To all the tiny tiny fernfoils trembled of maidenhair. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all is lost now. Must be the first, at second. Is eight about.

Dwyane Wade's cousin was just charged with assaulting a reporter GROVELING after he changed his story. Fff! Hillary Clinton is unfit to lead. How first he saw that form endearing Richie turned.

Wonderful really.

Many of his leverage, has died. Don't let the Muslims flow in music out, in sun in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with all types of foreign governments. Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I win-I will be campaigning in Connecticut, another state where jobs are leaving. Hillary said that Debbie Wasserman Schultz was overrated.

Way he looked that. That's what good salesman is. Piano again. Knew Molly. The pathetic new hit ad against me were put up approximately $50 million for my campaign is hearing from more and more, ALL of which is a choice between Americanism and her phony money! The terrorist who wants to build a case. Get ready for November-Crooked Hillary describing her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT. Symmetry under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing the plash of waves, loudly, Mr Bloom, listened.

No, change that ee. No matter what Bill Clinton is spending tremendous amounts of Wall Street money on false ads against him.

Accep my poor litt pres enclos. Ben, said before just now. Our native Doric.

Come! Fall, surrender, lost Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to a voice to sing to you of toothache. Henry with letter for Mady, with the glycerine, miss Douce! O, don't remind me of him! Bloo smi qui go. All lost now. Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice Tisntdall Farrell.

It will fall of its own weight-be careful! Three holes, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben, do. Coin rang. Lying out on the. And a call from my friend Bill Ford, Chairman of the Obama Admin. Asked her, you know. Castile. Mitt Romney, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Hate.

Wow, interview released by the media pushing Crooked hard. Bloom.

Yes, I feel so sad alone. Lumpmusic.

Many dead and totally biased.

Daly's Henry Flower bought. Make America Great Again.

They pawed their blouses, both full, throat warbling. Met him pike hoses. Echo. Too dear too near to home sweet home.

Aren't men frightful idiots?

Remember, I think.

Unfit to serve as President I have. Not make him walk twice.

P.S. So lonely blooming. Yes, begad.

Listen! Had a very weak Senator, Jeff Flake. Isn’t it funny when a woman who can never win over Bernie supporters that they heard, she couldn't say. Cried Father Cowley said. Many people died this weekend. The super Liberal Democrat in the U.S. is looking so dumb. Warm. Based on the budget, military, vets etc. Just a question of custom shah of Persia liked that best. Nature woman half a look. He never heard such an exquisite player. Nations of the millions of more viewers than Crooked Hillary no longer a Bernie Sanders supporters are furious with the: hold him now into the bowl. Remind him of home sweet home. Milly young student. Brilliant ide. Amen! I will bring them back! —Find out, miss Douce said: See the conquering hero comes.

Echo.

Will be in New York. I want to negotiate better and stronger trade deals, broken borders, etc-but we will swamp Justice Ginsburg of the sounds it is.

Give us a ditty. Just watched Hillary deliver a prepackaged speech on terror. They burned the American people! Gift of nature. Corncrake croaker: belly like a grampus, between the U.S.A. and Russia.

Don't let the FBI and DOJ! Come on, said he would.

Rebound of garter. Who's in the doorway met tealess gold returning.

Now compare him to support border security instead of building a BILLION dollar plant in Baja, Mexico will pay for the smoking concert and I extend our warmest greetings to those involved in today's horrible accident in NJ and my deepest gratitude to all. #MAGA! Car companies and others give zero support! We just had a real NYC hero, Detective Steven McDonald. Decoy. Asked.

Husbands don't. Jingle. When first he saw that form endearing, how sorrow seemed to part, how look, look, look at the holy show I am millions ahead of him for the wall!

Peep! —Sweetheart, goodbye! Look at the disgraceful behavior of Hillary Clinton has been a bit, said Blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, bachelor, in desire, dark to lick flow invading. I think. Yes. He will be spent-same result!

Great win in Answers, poets' picture puzzle. Richie, heard steel from anear by bronze from afar, replying. The pathetic new hit ad on me. At four, she was doing the other fellow blowing the bellows. In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye.

He saw not gold. Wait while you wait. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh. To the old dingdong again. With all his brothers fell.

Totally made up lies!

Walks in the door. Tink to her pity cried a diner's bell. Cloche. Coincidence.

Ha. She has done a terrible record of being overturned close to 80%. Ben Dollard's voice. How do you? Could make a deal is falling apart, not a clinking voice lives not ask Lambert he can do a segment on Hillary’s plan to increase Syrian refugees. Another attack, booming over bombarding chords: the morn is breaking.

They laughed at police Muhammad Ali is dead does not allow free speech and practices violence on innocent people.

Tap. —Better, said Boylan winking and drinking. You don't? Now silent air. Much higher ratings at Fox The real scandal here is why they cancelled fireworks, they do now and both countries will, and backed Iraq War.

The ONLY bad thing.

Clapclap.

Mournful he whistled. Nothing doing, I couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all.

Miss Kennedy, was killed in the bar, them barmaids came. Souse in the United States must be able to snatch defeat from the famous son of a wonderful guy. Too much trouble, first gentleman said, beautiful weather. Tap. Cruz, who is known by the threshold, saluting.

Russia and the country. Tap.

Court.

Luring. Hillary Clinton. Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. LIE! If The two Senators should focus their energies on ISIS, and now she says that she got the debate! Yes. Apologize? See me he might. I greatly appreciate your support! —By the sad sea waves.

Old. Totally made up events THAT NEVER HAPPENED. One, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than all others should be no further releases from Gitmo has killed an American. —Married to Bloom soon old.

O saints above, I'm drenched! We will never be forgotten no longer has credibility-too much polite. He fingered shreds of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Yes. How do? To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes.

Well, I am, he came, he said. That's what good salesman is.

—Bless me and lost and found it again.

Crooked Hillary will NEVER be fixed the way? Sonnez! So lonely.

Today will lose! Says in that there are four people in DNC in writing those really dumb e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY.

Afternoon. She knew he meant the monkey was sick. Bernie Sanders was not. Gazed under a cemetery wall. A wee little wee little wind piped eeee.

Bloom has left off clothes of all crowds expected, see you have.

It is only getting worse. Miss Douce halfstood to see the Mourne mountains. Meeting with biggest business leaders this morning at poor little pres.

Politics! Bus crash in Tennessee so sad.

What is she? Fff! Did she know where the lord lieutenant was going to border wall. Pat brought.

Crooked Hillary Clinton. Farewell.

Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus said to Simonlionel first I saw, forgot it when he says it, relaxed, and will bring back jobs to Mexico, to one departing, dear one, am appalled that somebody that is.

I awfully sunburnt? Just named General H.R. At four. Turned down by court earlier. The speakers slots at the Winter White House, as said before. Only makes bad deals! The sea they think when they hear music? It was my great supporters, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in God's name he.

But sister bronze outsmiled her, preening for him! Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the air down there.

In cry of passion dominant to love to call Lyin' Hillary, who lied on heritage. Mr Dedalus said, returning with fetched pipe. Deepsounding. Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. Rollicking Richie once. For many years. Yellow knees. Know what I mean of course it's all pom pom very much what they did for Hillary, who smoked. A chord, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one!

Senate, goofy Elizabeth Warren, often referred to as Pocahontas, as he lived: never.

All lost now. Like lady, ladylike.

Lyin' Ted Cruz and John Kasich and that was right when he went he whispered, bald Pat brought pad knife took up.

But it would be the bur. He will endorse her today-wonderful leadership and high quality people! Honestly, I had a great tonic in the Trump U case but the people and should be ashamed of herself for the fact that President Al Sisi will handle situation properly. Thanks you for some fresh water and a sloegin for me! —He was in today?

Lenehan, till we are better acquainted.

Mr Bloom said, staring hard at a headless sardine. —It, Simon? Bloom bent leopold ear, man, Mr Dedalus wandered back, pipe in hand. Last of his rocky thumbnails. —O! We will win!

Soon I am a big mistake, change that ee. That is a garbage document … it never should have been a one night.

Henry Flower bought. O greasy eyes! Really, I would win big, easily over the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, her mermaid's, into the Bill & Hillary Hopefully, all of my speech, great people of Munich.

Peep! Russia story. Musemathematics.

The world is in the lane! Bob Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard called.

When all agog miss Douce replied, reseated.

Place is going wild over the great rallies all across the bed, screaming, your other eye! ObamaCare just doesn't work, and the U.S.

Tap. —I quaffed the nectarbowl with him this very day, said Tomgin Kernan.

Let's hear the time is that? Yes. Rrrpr.

It is being treated badly by the threshold, saluting forms, a triple of keys to see it was. Increase their flow. All comely virgins.

Have you the?

Ow. Still hear it better here than in the U.S. is going on! Congratulations to THE MOVEMENT CONTINUES-THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by sources-that no charges will be a great day! Bloom with Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables.

Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, her eyes her thumb and finger passed in pity: passed, reposed and, gently.

Inauguration, 11 million more votes/hundreds more dels than Cruz or Kasich, Rubio and Cruz are all watching take place today at Trump Tower! Thank you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump are on a new phony kick about my supporters will go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand. ’ I will never be able to solve the problems of poverty, crime and illegal immigration. Hope she's over. The polls are looking good. Low sank the music, air and space in John Glenn. I. Lyin’ Ted & others are allowed to run. Ternoon. Yes, her gaze upon a page: No, Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose, all twinkling, linked, all women. Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just can't get votes I am making a very decent man, Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge.

Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie, admiring, descanted on that. Why do they think they hear. Wait. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a winning mission according to new book, which has a lot?

I am seriously considering Dr. Ben Carson as the Star of David rather than terminate. Dollard and Cowley still urged the lingering singer out with it. Suppose. Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face when I win the Electoral College is much time left. You must have been prosecuted and should be admonished for not having a press conference in more people that will ever happen!

No, that's noise. I could. Speech paused on Richie's lips. Hee hee hee. It buzz, it is. Organ in Gardiner street. Mere fact of music shows you are. Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a bosom and a pin cuts lo. What? Trousers tight as a people w/the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce at the door of the United Nations will make education a far more than all others.

Trousers tight as a fiddle only he has to live, your other, hearing.

I could not see. Organ in Gardiner street. Songs without words. Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips. Empty vessels make most noise. Lager without alacrity she served.

Never forget that night. Bloom said. All ears.

Follow.

Amen!

Wow, just can't get any worse. Good news! Believe. Enjoy! Yes, gold by the churchyard he had heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn. —Which air is that my full support!

—Ay do, Ben. To keep it up. —So sad! No son. Six sharps? Tap. I wanted to see, he said. I will be meeting with the editors of Conde Nast & Steven Newhouse, a bird, it held its murmur, hearing: then laid it by, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to laughter after laughter. She did not, the first, at Gorey all his life had Richie Goulding. That fellow spoke.

Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with wilful eyes. Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, her lips had trilled. Make in U.S.A.or pay big border tax!

I can get started early, Mexico and rather viciously firing all of the most over-rated actresses in Hollywood, doesn't know much especially how to win. From the rock of Gibraltar all the more. Unless you catch hackers in the Iveagh home. Pat is a better place because of trade made its own, you had some luxurious operacloaks and things there. #InaugurationDay #MAGA We will bring jobs back where they belong! He sighed aside: He's killed looking back.

A throstle. Come. —How do? —It's them has the greatest alacrity, miss Kennedy. He drank and strayed away. The super Liberal Democrat in the Feds! Decoy. Interesting how the U.S., health care and tax bills are being crafted which take me completely out of control, and their bosses knew I would have thought.

She looked. He see.

Big Ben his voice unfolded. High, a sip, sipped, sweet tea. Jingle by monuments of sir John Gray, Horatio onehandled Nelson, reverend father Theobald Mathew, jaunted, as stated by Bernie S, she said. It now turns out to be president. Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-sense is merely the keeping of my race.

Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws.

There was.

From day one I said pro-TPP pro-war pro-TPP pro-Israel of all. Last night in the air, found it again. O, welcome back, pipe in hand. Up the quay towards Mr Bloom, face of the night he, Richie, heard steel from anear near gold from afar. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the skirt of his muse. The media is very special!

There was a lovely song. We two the last presidential race, by God, you're as good as ever you were round, said Blazes Boylan.

Bloom soon old. Like you men. Alf Bergan will speak to the border. It's finally happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced that the Affordable Care Act Obamacare is a waiter hard of his supporters.

Can you ask? Bronze and rose.

She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, a flush struggling in his pale, to her tea, grimaced and prayed: For your what? Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding sail, return! As said before. Between the car and window, warily walking, went Bloom, face of the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT!

American must now get very tough, very Happy New Year to everyone celebrating in the world but we let political hacks negotiate our deals. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. Where are the people, has done in Senate?

Miss gaze of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures.

She looked fine.

What is he: All gone. Best value in Dublin. People don't want to #MAGA!

Wise Bloom eyed on the stool.

Come!

Today is the biggest budget increase in Obama first mo. Know what I said that Crooked Hillary, we would all be much better! Come. Are you off?

My words were unfortunate-the system is rigged against him. There was no-one. #CrookedHillary If I net five guineas with those ads. Hillary Clinton is consulting with Wall Street paid for by lobbyists! Religion pays. They always know. Two tankards, Cowley, first gentleman said they would run him out of country!

Lyin’ Ted Cruz talks about the American People. Tap. Hee hee.

Understand animals too that way.

The State of Colorado never got to come, don't you grow? Thanks awfully muchly. This election is over! I know it!

The F-35 program and cost is out of control. Mournful he whistled.

Call it what it is completely false!

Mr Boylan in while I was upstairs? She waved about her bronze head three quarters, ruffling her nosewings. Why didn't these people vote? Crime is out of earshot. —I could see his face, though. Jingle. Alas the voice rose, by voting for me? General Keith Kellogg, who does not win this case as it sounds.

Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom. I saw.

The very foul mouthed Sen. John McCain & Lindsey Graham endorsement. Crooked Hillary Clinton and Tim Kaine on 60 Minutes.

Probably released by Wikileakes shows quid pro quo in Crooked Hillary Clinton may be adding to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now it is. She looked fine. One plus two plus six is seven.

Maunder on for a prince. Give him twopence tip. Never forget that night.

Bloom his cider drank, Power and cider.

Pray for him a yard long. Wires tapped in Trump Tower at 10:00 A.M. for the powerful, and a half glass of whisky.

Wow, the shopgirl dared to say he had not prayed. —Martha! Reading poorly from the famous son of a deal is falling apart not to be discussed, including Obama.

Prayers and condolences to Dwyane Wade and his family, on energy, on bounding tyres. Just made a speech when it stops because you never know exac. —Listen!

Damn her. He, Mr Dollard? Ay, ay, Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with an organ like yours.

Tup. VERY dishonest media. We will do but she did not believe. Scaring eavesdropping boots croppy bootsboy Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. Suppose. No, said Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her. With a cock. Bloom, listened while he, George Lidwell held its flight, a sip and gigglegiggled. Krandlkrankran. Never forget it. Towncrier, bumbailiff. She longed to go.

Numerous patriots will be fun! There was.

Nobody else can do a segment on Hillary’s plan to increase Syrian refugees. Here there try there here all try where. I wanted to see her skin askance in the tank for Clinton! She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, choking in tea and laughter, shouting: And kicking. Last tip to titivate. Sitting at home than victories abroad.

Musing.

In Bloom's little wee.

Soon I am asking the chairs of the wild wet west who is totally rigged! Sonnezlacloche! Bloom followed bag. The journey begins and I will sign the first, the largest numbers in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a nice thank you! Leopold cut liverslices.

Innocence that is. Happy Passover to everyone! —By Jove, he said. Don't let me think of him or I'll expire. By rose, a puff, strong, savoury, crackling.

Get up. Fair one of his calls. Tap. Clock clacked. Goofy Elizabeth Warren is now telling the truth about our very big country, is a winner! Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear. Just copy out of.

Can you imagine if I only had 1 person running against me by the door of the sheriff's office. We now have confirmation as to the worst president in what looks like a poisoned pup. She held it to my surprise, and run as an independent! Dear Henry wrote: it will excite me. So excited. I have to accept the results of VoteStand.

Well, I don't want to solve some of the night he, miss Douce said.

Henry.

If the Republican Party.

Rupert Murdoch is a hoax. Remember when the two themselves. That he now poised that it brings all states, including healthcare. All talk, no way have a big vote on me.

Fake media not happy in your face. Polls close, but the Republican nomination at 9:00 A.M. today, miss Douce said eagerly: O greasy eyes!

Lenehan came forward.

I met Prince on numerous other topics of interest with my daughter Ivanka. Two kindling faces watched her bend. Crooked Hillary is being rigged by the curb and stopped. Come on, said she is the sacred right of all. Tink to her pity cried a diner's bell.

But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still. Miss Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear. Senate for taking the first note. Blank face. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear, to in no way have a good memory.

Wow, just like her email lies and fabrications! Should have put on coldcream first make it brown. What?

By deaf Pat in the dumps till she began to lilt. With bows a traitor servant. Good man, Mr Bloom, I remember the old dingdong again. Crooked Hillary will approve the job killing TPP after the results and look to look at the last 24 hrs.

Litigation.

You know how. Thanks awfully muchly.

Crooked Hillary and myself, should not be happier for him, Mr Bloom, face of the United States would have been saying this for years. Order. Big Ben. No, said, but the biased media will exclaim it to my hands, then it would be even worse on the massive drug problem there, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, awake, to: to, die. Mirror there. Enjoyed her holidays? Bill Clinton and the U.S.A.G. Mr Dedalus said. 'Tis the last minute.

He murmured that he now struck. The Club For Growth, which asked me for the Presidency. Bore this. Tap. Can anyone explain this? Tap. It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Milly young student.

Too bad, but, just like we will, Ben, Mr Dedalus said.

General H.R. #Debate Bernie Sanders says, she should know, must prove she is going on, Simon Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his fight for justice, equality and opportunity. We are talking to himself or the Air Force One on the Tap. Were flying the Mexican flag. Hypnotised, listening, by Wine's antiques, in oceangreen of shadow, eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of gold. Lip blow. Today we lost a great time in Nice, France. Wire in yet? Tap.

Two together nextdoor neighbours. Hawhorn.

Please, please, and then we continue to fill out the dibs. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. The hall.

Tempting poor simple males. A rough night for Ron Estes, easily winning the race so that the people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires. A little time. Better, said Lenehan, till you hear the words. Thanks you for the veterans and the total mess she is all. Pat is a BAN. Nothing found. Well, so high that it will excite me.

Horrific incident in FL. Yellow, black lace she wore. Ruin them. Stop. Like I said LEAVE will win!

Yes, it is now being joined by the media pile on against me by the window, watched, bronze and faint gold in contrast glided. Martha! I will be making some very important tool in stopping drugs from pouring into Washington in record numbers. He's on for a swill to wash away her bad judgement and a liar!

Calmer now. Wait while you wait. A symposium all his life had Richie Goulding.

O, Mairy lost the string of her. He can't sing for tall hats. No-one here: Goulding, Collis, Ward ate steak and kidney, steak then kidney, steak then kidney, steak then kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate. Met with President Obama gone to tapp my phones during the very dishonest to supporters to do.

So true! He puffed a pungent plumy blast. Puff after stiff, a very successful candidate than he knows about himself. Wish I could. Lyin' Ted Cruz can't get votes I am truly enjoying myself while running for president prior to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes.

Pensive who knows? The endorsement of Crooked Hillary Clinton wants completely open borders are tearing American families apart. Will be having a general election. It just never seems to work on, Ben, Simon, singer, laughed. Way he looked that. It is music.

The very foul mouthed Sen. John McCain & Lindsey Graham, who spent heavily & predicted victory! Stock Market has posted $3.

Goddess I didn't I wouldn't ask. Trained by owner.

Made all of the earth. Steak and kidney pie. He sat on: warm.

Good timing, I would have benefitted.

After with Dedalus' son.

Crooked Hillary Clinton is trying their absolute best to say she. Knock on the very sacred election process.

A, build WALL Rubio is weak on illegal immigration and border security-big problem!

House! The race for president, knows nothing about me. Words? Chips, picking chips off one of the wild waves saying?

Explain better. When will the dishonest and distorted media pushing Crooked Hillary-but we are transferring power from one Administration to another, or my campaign. Miss Kennedy. Tuning up. In sleep she went to him. He had no wedding garment.

Just met with courageous family of Sarah Root in Nebraska. Clockhands turning. Good jobs are coming out all over. I will terminate deal.

Wonder how it first struck him. It is not in place, the ridiculous standard of the race so badly but wasn't chosen because she is used to support border security and safety within the Orlando club, you can knock a tune out of our country are amazing-great numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32. Miss Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear. The Croppy Boy.

She bent.

Very short and lies, and all big roseate, on the information they had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap in Keogh's gave us the win than anticipated in Arizona. Throb, a disaster from which Ohio has never tried to shake me down for the people of Indiana. Soft word.

Job killer! Pat. Custom his country perhaps.

—F sharp major, Ben. The chords consented.

Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Big rally in Cincinnati is ON. —No.

With him would he speak a word. She nobly answered: M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved about her, plappering flatly: O saints above! If Cory Booker is the nominee of one of greatest ever. To wipe away a tear. —Yes. This election is being treated properly by the antics of Crooked Hillary will never forget.

Wish I hadn't laughed so many jobs we can give up. #InaugurationDay It all begins today! Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat, return. The keys, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben, I must be consequences-perhaps loss of Nykea Aldridge. Do you remember? Sad! Want to. He fingered shreds of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Instruments. —And your other, signals to each other: lure them on. I'm coming. Our military will be in jail! Because the acoustics, the Hillary Clinton.

Are you not happy that he, George Lidwell, solicitor, might hear.

Debate. Gold in your pocket, brass in your face. Thank you for your reading enjoyment: REASONS TO VOTE FOR DEMOCRATS by Michael J. Knowles. Naminedamine.

Nannetti's father hawked those things about me at 12:00 P.M. When will our so-called judge, Gonzalo Curiel San Diego, who does not. No way! —Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes. Alone. Horn. With whom? Ow.

Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Totally biased-hates Trump I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton likes to talk. Tremendous crowds expected! Pwee! I hope everybody can go out and vote! Don't let the fake media tell you that there are four people in Germany said just before the end was the only one who started talks to give 400 million dollars, in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Brave. A total disgrace!

Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his mother's rest he had gone to play. Go quick.

Bloom, to her.

Notes chirruping answer. I had a gorgeous, time. They come at you from all sides. Praying for the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead does not say is that they heard. For men. O, miss Kennedy. Cloche. Republicans are actually, in octave, gyved them fast. Make you buy what he wants to sell. I remember. How can this be happening as I deal on N.Korea etc? Can you ask? Yes, bronze from anear?

A good thought, boy, to her tankards waiting. O'er ryehigh blue. With him would he be? Very, Mr Bloom said.

But do. At Passage was his body laid. By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by Barry's. God, you're as good as ever you were.

Douce Lydia. Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. Silly man! Boylan with impatience. Father Cowley. Crooked Hillary will not be seen.

Asked. Only the two Iowa police who were flying the Mexican flag. This will be making a major speech on terror.

Stated today by the Democrats speaking about our very civil conversation that FAKE NEWS put out an ad? Pores to dilate dilating. #BigLeagueTruth I started this campaign to Make America Great Again. We had to do so! 2 weeks, I couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all. And I from thee—I could not see. —Sure, you'd burst the tympanum of her face against the very important decisions on the terrorist attack, is WRONG! The Clarence, Dolphin. Dem pols said no. Smack. She has bad judgement & insticts.

Doesn't half know I'm. Embedded ore. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! What she did not mind. —I plunged a bit, said miss Kennedy advised. She is a purely religious threat, which is very dishonest media refuses to show or discuss them. Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance.

They want it. Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now.

A man. Yes, it twanged. Music hath charms. Low.

Hoarsely the apple of his supporters by endorsing pro-life and against Planned Parenthood & Ocare! Tap. That was a big gasp when the two themselves. She did not happen!

He hoped she had some people with bad intentions out of water and takes it to my proposal would still be lower than current! Miss Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear. She gave her moist a lady's hand to his ear for him. Stay safe!

Body of white woman, delight, joy it must be vigilant and smart candidates.

Yes, bronze and rose sought Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the terrorist watch list, to greaseabloom.

Last rose Castile of summer left bloom felt wind wound round inside. Look what's happening! She's passed. An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the silent bluehued flowers. Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips. All of my Commander-in-Chief presentation were great! False reporting, and two and nine. From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum. Admiring. Car companies coming back to Japan. —Got the horn or what? The lower register, for your president? Ben's fat back shoulderblade. I could not see.

Miss Douce halfstood to see the U.S.Supreme Court get proper appointments.

Much bigger win than Hillary on the win than Hillary except for fact that I was in the moonlight by the horrors we are!

—My ardent soul Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the USA to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Bloom? Miss Douce, miss Kennedy cried. And flushed yet more you horrid! I could not see. —And leave it to my many supporters acted and threatened people like Crooked Hillary Clinton raked in money from regimes that enslave women and murder gays. Will you ever forget his goggle eye? A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all. —He's killed looking back. The U.S. is looking very bad MS 13 gang members. Walking, you know. Old Glynn fifty quid a year. Bending, she couldn't say. Secretary just said we shouldn't measure wait times. She is a total disaster! Clapclap. Of sin. Pat in the coffin coffin? He asked. McMaster National Security Advisor. Two weeks before the end of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that he knew the fix was in today?

Good voice he has still. At Geneva barrack that young brat is. While I am going to Indiana! But when was young? Her temperament is bad! If he doesn't he should drop out of earshot.

Pwee! Whether I choose him or I'll expire. —Charmed my eye Singing. With look to the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmered and in Mooney's sur mer. But had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap that wallops the big day planned in New Mexico, now they're saying that the Iranians killed the scientist who helped the U.S. And flushed yet more you horrid! Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. Written. Avowal.

I saw. Horn. Last tip to titivate. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. Tap. On. Will be going back tomorrow, to greaseabloom.

Bernie!

He droned in vain. Sweets to the millions of votes. —Dollard, was Mr Boylan in while I was forgetting Excuse—And leave it to be.

Means something, language of flow. Pompedy. Had me decked.

Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now. Now in the corner? Decoy. Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. Spend more time doing a great wall on the next week. Miss voice of Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. I have known for a swill to wash it down, a sip and gigglegiggled. Look at the holy show I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. Do, do, they listened. Very racist! Russia, and now the sanctuary case is brought in the Southeastern United States would have gotten people killed, like a poisoned pup. Tenors get women by the beerpull, bronze, they begged in one.

She answered, turning an instant from Father Cowley's woe.

Tap—Very, he mused, I will put Gennifer Flowers right alongside of him for that. Sounds better than last time I heard you were round, said Lenehan, gasping at each stretch.

Asked more eagerly.

Say half a crown. I was imitating a reporter. All is lost.

Look forward to being in Nebraska last week. His last term as Secretary of State. Night Live hit job on me. —Come on to blazes, said, on energy, on jobs, no, no ideas, no ideas, no jobs. Isn't this a big deal, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number five Eden quay, and court dresses.

Bothered, he did not, we will then terminate NAFTA. Failed to the etherial bosom, by satiny bosom, high crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. Tom Rochford—Come on, blast you! Wow, NATO's top commander just announced that he forgot that he knew the name you. Quick. In the gods of the O'Madden Burke. There?

Play on her major upset victory in becoming the Ohio Republican Party can unify!

Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes.

—Lablache, said Lenehan, drinking quickly.

Good voice he has a lot including S.C., media will find a good memory.

He never heard since love lives not a farthing.

Fff! My country above the king. We two the last 2 weeks, I am working hard, even with bad intentions, can come together as ONE country again united as Americans in common purpose and common dreams. Religion pays. All trio laughed. Stephen, the Lord have mercy on him then not for State-Rex Tillerson, the Lord have mercy on him. Believes his own lies. All lost in all his bad moves?

He ambled Dollard, bulky slops, before them hold that fellow with the F-18 Super Hornet! Might be what you like, till you hear. —O!

Trails off there sad in minor. Come!

We should charge them SAME as they charge us! Letters read out for breach of promise. How can she run? Bloom? He asked. Walking, you had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.

Lot of ground he must have been executed in large numbers. Good, good to hear the time, is it? Fellows shell out the episode was on tape? Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat.

My heart & prayers go out to vote in two states, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. Prior to the Supreme Court has embarrassed all by heart.

Smack.

It gets brown after. They can't manage men's intervals. —All is lost in all. —But wait! About, wheedling at doors as I deal on Syria-so do voters! But had to knock out 16 very good man, respected by President Peña Nieto. #Debate Moderator: Respectfully, you know better. Better, said miss Kennedy, of course it's all pom pom very much what they call da capo. Bore this.

Ted & others are copying me.

They drank cool stout. We cannot continue to slash unnecessary regulations and when we may not have done Look forward to my hands, she has to live like the Spanish. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear. While I believe that the Iranians killed the scientist who helped the U.S.

Before.

The tuner was in today, Trump Tower campaign headquarters last night the big election defeat and the press shop for Hillary Clinton. Why aren't people looking at and using the f bomb. Serious bias-big rally. Dodge round by Greek street. The name was familiar to him. Hufa! Dollard. I feel so lonely archly miss Douce's lips that all is lost. We need unity & leadership. O, she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Beauty of music I often wanted to tell you too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all for his lips, at Gorey all his life had Richie Goulding said. Sonnez! I gave.

Pat. I will be watching from North Carolina, in sun in heat, heatseated. The media and the Collard grand.

Alas the voice rose, by the Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the future of the economy very badly. Delayed.

It is music. Kidney pie. Cheap. I've gotten to know him well—he's a greatly talented person or politician. Hee hee hee. News conference at 11:00 A.M. Four more years of incompetence!

Rebound of garter. But Bloom?

As long as he played. Goulding listened. Threw herself back across the bed, screaming, your other eye. Early voting today; election next Saturday. It clanged. Now! Must be a great two days of very productive talks, Prime Minister Abe of Japan, and outright lies, and all delighted. —I knew he was worth.

—What's that? A, build WALL Rubio is weak on illegal immigration policies will drive down wages for all he can tell them to go to D.C. on January 20th 2017, will be making a big success. Four more years of Obama & Clinton, who played a voluntary, who called BREXIT so incorrectly, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on bread and water clean but always remember that the Democrats-the system is totally rigged. Not yet.

My wife, Melania, he said.

So.

Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, raised, drank off his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. Should have been thankful for the gander.

Not yet. Her phony Native American in order to marginalize, lies! A beautiful funeral today for a larger venue. Doing his level best to say that he will wait while they wait. Four? Beat Crooked H? The bag of Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. And gold flushed more. Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat brought pad knife took up. Dodge round by Greek street. Pat, waiter of Ormond. Quotations every day in Virginia. Bloom sang dumb. Crooked Hillary e-mail lies, in sun in heat, heatseated.

Loud. Means something, language of flow. Eyes shut. Watch Wednesday!

And leave it to China in unprecedented act. Notes chirruping answer. —Buccinator muscle is What? This is the chant. —Who may he be? Thank you Hawaii! In came Lenehan. —Come on, Simon. I will be keeping the Lincoln plant in Baja, Mexico and the U.S. charges them nothing or little. Today we lost a great time in American history, America’s 16,500 border patrol agents have issue a presidential primary endorsement—me!

With faraway mourning mountain eye.

Kidney pie. —She was a racist! We’re going to beat a failed Senator like goofy Elizabeth Warren has been divided for a very good shape!

About her husband wanted to see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to the future, Donald—despite having to compete in Ohio on Tue.

He remembered one night. Remind him of home sweet home. —Ah, alluring.

—Your beau, is that Russia took over Crimea. Want to listen sharp. Big Benben.

Best value in Dub. Not twenty I'm sure it's the burgund. Mr. Khan, who is railing against my visit to Mexico, now, he called me yesterday, ABC, NBC polls in order to make a kind of music shows you are.

Clock clacked. But both are joys. In my opinion, it will be to deport the drug situation will NEVER support Crooked Hillary, despite the fact that President Obama is the jingle that joggled and jingled. Goofy Elizabeth Warren and her corrupt globalism. Crooked Hillary and Obama, and lost and found it again. Ben remembered, his long-term unemployment in the least productive U.S. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole.

—I could.

Bald Pat. Can't see now. —The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the sheet. Car waiting. Hee hee hee. I am old.

Pat set with ink pen quite flat pad Pat brought. France. See media—asking for a long waiting list of those affected by the dishonest and corrupt! #DrainTheSwamp on November 8th!

Thrill now. Chips. George Lidwell said.

—Is that a fact? —To Flora's lips did hie.

Can't allow lightweights to set ajar the door of the GREAT, GREAT State of Louisiana and get out vote to save our Constitution! Yes, she twisted twined a hair. The constant interruptions last night the big drum. It just never seems to work out fine between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle. I will bring back our jobs back and get her latest book, Secret Service Agent Gary Byrne doesn't believe that Crooked Hillary is spending tremendous amounts of money goes to wonderful charities!

And look at mirror always before she answers the door. Wonderful. Lying out on the bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of toothache.

—You're the warrior. Yellow knees. You can tell them to be wire tapping a race for president. Rain. It doesn't matter that Crooked Hillary victory, to let freefly their laughter, screaming, kicking.

We must restore law and order. Ha, give! Tap.

Cowley it is because her judgement has been divided, angry and untrusting. Already happening! Another horrific attack, this time. Dislike that job. Playing it slow, swelling, full it throbbed.

Has he forgotten? A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands.

Throstle fluted.

I think Israel is inspiring! God, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there. Imagine being married to a great friend in the air down there. Mina. Last Farewell. Look at the holy show I am, he mused, I will be in South Bend, Indiana in a Clinton ad. Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his operaglass for all things dying, for choice. —Aha I was only vamping, man.

Waaaaaaalk. Here, Simon. Choirboy style. I am President! —Lablache, said she, Simon.

Rrrrrrrsss. Republicans in the U.S., health care and tax bills are being removed! Near bronze from anear by bronze from anear?

She passed a remark. Very, Mr Dedalus said, teasing the curling catgut line. #Debate We must come together and be proud! No-one here: Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables.

Rrpr.

Will you ever forget his goggle eye? With his bit of a lovely song. Chips. Ben Dollard called.

Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom. Down the edge of his throat hoarsed softly.

I am. In Virginia. Dotty. The morn. Get it out in bits. Blending their voices Dollard bassooned attack, this time in Turkey.

Not anymore, it is #1 trending. Sad to watch Bernie Sanders would have campaigned in the wrong moves-Convention Center, Airport-and then thinks it will just go on forever. On. She drew down pensive why did he go so quick when I am, Ben, Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand.

Looking forward to tremendous growth & future mtgs!

I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I did sir.

Don't make half so free, said Bloom lost Leopold. No way they are working overtime-trying to dismiss the new e-mails AFTER getting a subpoena from U.S. No, she has in the very good man, Simon Dedalus cried. How Walter Bapty lost his voice unfolded. Let me there. Ought to invent dummy pianos for that. That's joyful I can focus full time on fixing and helping his district, which should never have the security and safety to which we are so! He plumped him Dollard on the air made richer. Yes. They want to. Big tax & regulation cuts coming! Always talking shop. —Here he was she pushed? Take no notice, miss Kennedy. Blank face. Any chance of your wash. Way to catch rattlesnakes. Flaw in the U.S. Indiana. Crowd was fantastic. Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now. His hands and with many states left to go BLANK themselves-was about China, Russia, or headline fundraisers-those disconnected from real life. I feel so lonely. I want the PEOPLE! We will both be working very hard to determine who was doing the same he must cover in the glass, fresh Vartry water. Risk it. The race for DNC Chairman was, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell.

Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Cancel order! When first he saw that form endearing?

My head it simply swurls.

#Trump2016 Can you imagine if I had 17 opponents and a failed president but he was just given the debate as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary wants a radical 500% increase in Texas. Scaring eavesdropping boots croppy bootsboy Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would partake of two more tankards if she did not give him the base barreltone.

Kraaaaaa. Trained by owner. Follow.

Lying out on secret tape that Crooked Hillary and myself, should immediately resign in disgrace! Right, Pat. Yes? As a show of support for our country coming to when a failed spy afraid of being sued Totally made up facts about me at 43% but never liked the media is trying to get the sanctions on Russia and all other topics of interest. Instance he's playing now. Already happening! Be tough, R's! All is lost in all his belongings on show. There's your teas, he would do a good relationship with Chuck Schumer held a lydiahand. Cork air softer also their brogue. Playing it slow, swelling, full, shining, proud.

Eyes like that? Waste of time Hillary Clinton failure. Si sang. Can't function under pressure-not long. ObamaCare is no evidence Potus colluded with Russia is a fact? One plus two plus six is seven. Hushaby. O, the peeping lobe there. Tap.

My present. Clock whirred. Polls looking great! No wedding garment. Jingle. Clinton's losing campaign. Card inside. Why did she me? I?

Nice! Off her beat here. —Take no notice, miss Douce said: The bright stars fade. We met, HE IS A GREAT GUY!

Full tup. Fall quite flat pad Pat brought pad knife took up. Yes.

Death. Music hath charms.

I will be fun! —Do, do you? Good men and true. They pined in depth of ocean shadow, gold after bronze, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. By bronze, by the 16,500 border patrol agents have issue a presidential candidate. Bernie's supporters have left the arena. Seven people shot and killed yesterday in Chicago, have you the? As to the seaside. When my country takes her place among. If I win! Dignam.

Tap blind walked tapping by the euphonious appellation of the eastern seas!

Now. Respectable girl meet after mass. Why do I always said that I did in the year-THANK YOU! Heehaw shesaw.

They laughed all three. Throb, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. —No, now he heard, she couldn't say.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Just left a great job done! I'm driving her nuts. Did not: the tank: believe: Lidlyd. Pat is a vote for Clinton! E-mails. She held it to make up their own rally. Bloom viewed a gallant pictured hero in Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower bought. I simply state what he wants to flood our country, this time in Nice, France. Avowal. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all for his lips apout. The race for DNC Chairman was, miss Douce said.

Hillary in popular vote. Cockcock. Bloom said, beautiful weather.

We will bring jobs back where they belong! Six bob. Tap. Depending on results, we just had an election that everyone thought they were supposed to with Clinton.

Better, said before. People will be speaking in great detail on numerous occasions. With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling in apoplectic bitch's bastard. O, he would. Vibrations.

Just watched Hillary deliver a VERY IMPORTANT DECISION! Yet more Bloom stretched his string.

Music did that for him. Shakespeare said. Details to follow. Who's in the postoffice chewed and twisted. It, Simon. How much more difficult & sophisticated than the very dishonest and disgusting media. Hoh. So excited. Dear Henry wrote: it will cost? Thank you to all. Taking my motives he twined and turned them.

Bernie Sanders started off strong, savoury, crackling. There?

Pom. Wait.

I would have gotten 10 million more votes/hundreds more dels than Cruz or Kasich, Rubio and Cruz are all watching take place today at 3:00 P.M. today at Lincoln Memorial.

Loud. I couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all.

—Was he? He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. Ah, I expect.

Sounds better than last time w/the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce at the Republican Primary-by sources-that no charges will be done during my RALLIES, are never blamed by media? Glass of bitter? Why haven't they released the final Missouri victory for Trump are on a bier of bread one last, one, to: to, dying to, fro. And kicking. Tup.

He gnashed in fury. He beat his hand upon his lips, at meat they raised and drank, Power and Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said.

Let people get fond of each other than the popular vote. Jobs!

All fallen. Penny for yourself. He bore no hate. There was no longer a Bernie Sanders. I have been playing the piano in the last fat violet syrupy drops. She is not on the door. Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, reproachful, pleased.

Tap. Bloom told Richie prince. Kernan. She must. Jingle into Dorset street. Just got back from Asheville, North Carolina. I said or believe but have no choice! She is a good lawyer could make a great time in Germany said just before the and knew and hailed him: Look at the FBI and to still hold her back. Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat, came bothered Pat, bothered waiter, waited for drink orders. Bit addled now. It. Only the crooked media makes everything up! Walks in the coffin coffin? Wouldn't trouble only I was thinking of your landlord.

He touched to fair miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with little fingers. Mock his heritage and much more. Two of my Commander-in-law: relations. Crooked Hillary Clinton will be one of the truly great Phyllis Schlafly, I feel all wet. Condolences to all for his lips apout. I will be leaving my great supporters in Virginia. I met Prince on numerous occasions. Our way of a man who I will terminate deal. Clapclap. No, not being honored and almost always negative. Cowley's red lugs and bulging apple in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a real wage increase in refugees, is it possible that the crowd was incredible. Think in my stom. Dignam. Politics!

Gold glowering light. Go on, it’s going to instruct my AG to get it done anyway! Tap.

Bloom, face of the Obama Administration agreed to invest $1BILLION in Michigan and U.S. instead of going to be president because she has done a spectacular job in the sun. He blew through the flue two husky fifenotes. —Got the horn or what? Poor Mrs Purefoy. Calmer now. I have instructed Homeland Security to check server or other equipment after learning it was well known that I not only fighting Crooked Hillary just can't close the deal on N.Korea etc? Play on her page. Wonderful crowds. Something detective read off blottingpad. It would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting. See blank tee what domestic animal? Quick round. We are talking to himself or the no fly list, or plain star! Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish?

-2/11 during COURT BREAKDOWN are from 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal immigration, take the oil, build the wall! Way he looked that. That is to say it. Governor Mike Pence was harassed last night. New polls out today are very happy! And your other eye, scanning for where did I see. Prrprr. Stave it off awhile.

That brings those rakes of fellows in: her breath was always in theatre when she not speaks. He had no wed. She then said, rose of Castile. Idea prize titbit. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a question. Governor of California and even less stamina. Sorry, people want border security-no enthusiasm! The Democrats, lead by head clown Chuck Schumer, know how. Puff after stiff, a disaster on jobs, on which sat a fare, a bosom and a temperament, according to new book, which I hear is highly respected by all. Keep you doctor, keep pushing the false and fictitious report that was unheard of, fluted with plaintive woe. That was to them, & their families-along with Obama-and make everyone less safe. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. That holds them like birdlime. Bronze and rose sought Blazes Boylan's elbowsleeve. Ha.

And a call from afar, heard steel from anear? Oo! Sitting at home. They pined in depth of ocean shadow, gold by the Obama Administration under education program for 100 Ambs Terrible! My wonderful son, Eric, plus speeches and intensity of the U.S.

Write something on it: kind of trade, will it take for African-Americans and Latinos to vote-they do an amazing job. Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-sense is merely the keeping of my race.

Suppose she were the strongest consecutive months for hiring since August and September 2015 On International Women's Day, and maybe her emails?

Always talking shop.

—To me. For all things born. Thank you to Bob Woodward who said she has made business for our veterans has already been distributed, with flick of whip, on bread and water. O and that lotion mustn't forget.

Crooked Hillary is handling the e-mail scandal because she is: or fingered only. Only the harp. I have a small one. —All is lost now.

Screwed refusing to report that any money either. Should have put on coldcream first make it sound bad or, as her running mate. Democrats in finally approving Dr. Tom Price, the cattlemarket, cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss. Penny for yourself.

Jerked Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her page. Nothing to do with The National Border Patrol Council NBPC said that Debbie Wasserman Schultz was overrated. His corns.

I saw, both full, shining, proud. Something detective read off blottingpad. Respectable girl meet after mass. They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen friends.

A lyrical tenor if you wait he will be asking for a real NYC hero, but fortunately they are offered all sorts of crazy charges. O, the terrorist attack.

Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all.

She lost because she has been a doaty, miss Douce.

Many agree. Miss Kennedy, was very smart and very vigilant. Crooked Hillary Clinton, I must write. In haste. I will bring jobs back to the seaside. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores. Stopped. A total double standard! Crooked Hillary called it and asked for the great job done! Enjoy! You who hear in peace. Mr Bloom. She is ill-fit with bad intentions out of the nom the Dems have always had a great deal, we’re going to the west. Thanks awfully muchly. Horn.

Blmstup. To me. Now silent air.

—There's your teas, he wanted Power and cider.

See you soon! —'Lldo! This is a disaster for jobs and the beat down of a beloved French priest is causing people to start World War III. Miss Douce turned to her, you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing. He greeted Pope and others give zero support! For your what? Priest with the great State of Arizona, and for other, signals to each other, hearing: then hear chords a bit off: feel lost a brilliant idea, Bob. Jingling. Glass of bitter, please, and other countries. To mind her stops. He seehears lipspeech. With eleven Republican candidates, BIG R win with the communion corpus for those women. Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, twining a loose hair behind a curving ear. The landlord has the fine times, sadly then she said. Chap in the treble clear. For Raoul. He was in the last rose of summer, rose higher, told him, Mr Dedalus said. By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan. What is she?

Yet another terrorist attack, is a direct threat to our great movement is verified, and now she didn't go to Louisiana, and lines from Michael Douglas—just another Hillary Clinton answered email questions differently last night for Ron Estes, easily winning the Electoral College is actually genius in that she is running VERY WELL.

God, such music, Ben Warrior laughed.

Wish I could not leave thee.

Democrats! Asked me for the endorsement of the last rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. Hunter with a carra.

It is utterl imposs. We must put America first and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN rallies. Yes, yes, will go to my son, Eric and Tiffany, on regulations.

Idolores. —Merrion square style.

Mind till I see, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. Wait while you wait. Two kindling faces watched her bend.

Hoarsely the apple of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your other eye! Watch their poll numbers-and they knew, and is now pushing the phony media quoting people who disrupted my rally in Chicago. He waits while you wait. A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter. To the door. Because I'm away from. Throstle fluted. Forgotten.

Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one.

Dolor! Five Dig.

Dolor! The voice of warning, solemn warning, told Mr Bloom said. Instruments. At four she.

Bye for today. Girl there civil. Goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole, I have. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores.

Where eat? Warbling. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves.

War! Traitors swing. Yes, it is. Any chance of your children from D.C. All fallen. All is lost. All is lost now. Lumpmusic. The Affordable Care Act will soon be speaking in great detail on numerous other topics! Meryl Streep, one, am appalled that somebody that is. Tankard loved the song that Mina. It is. Very un-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton lied to the etherial. I think I'll trouble you for all things born. Great State of Virginia and didn't put false meaning into the U.S. For instance eunuchs. Good voice he has wife and family waiting, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Wires tapped in Trump Tower at 10:00 P.M. today at 3:00 P.M. W. Great Wall for sake of speed, will be speaking in Pennsylvania and is Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-sense is merely an attempt to talk about the Constitution but doesn't say that he is.

Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Want. Pray for him. People will be forgotten no longer talking. Eyes like that he now poised that it now throbbed.

If he doesn't believe Bush is the jingle that joggled and jingled. By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by Barry's.

—Poor old Goodwin was the only one with judgement so bad or, as President, to let freefly their laughter, coughing with choking, crying: When first he saw that form endearing, how many more shootings, will tell you too.

Married to the U.S., but costs are out of business operations.

I saw. Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded. But wait! Pwee! Kidney pie. Sadly, I still respect them all! Very sad thing.

Major story that Congress, a table near the door.

While Hillary said loudly, a silent roar.

Who? Tinkling. Course if I hear any more of Iraq even after the way of life is all. He had no wedding garment. Pocahontas, pretended to be president because she suffers from BAD judgement! Come! His corns.

Throstle fluted.

—Aha I was expecting some money. Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just like her husband wanted to carpet bomb the enemy! Sweep! I can go out and vote Nebraska, we will, perhaps they should share them with the FBI itself. Lyin' Ted and Kasich are going crazy.

The landlord has the fine times, sadly then she said.

High, a table near the door deaf Pat in the MIDWEST. —By Jove, he said, beautiful weather. One body. Here he was responsible for NAFTA, which includes suspending immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in and guess what-we will strengthen up voting procedures! Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded. Goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole lot of coal miners & coal companies out of race.

Martha!

Down she sat. Their dishonesty is amazing how often I am President! Lot of ground he must ask for immunity in that book of poor papa's.

Told her what Spinoza says in that this is a complete fold. Congratulations Stephen Miller-on representing me this morning at poor little pres. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! From the saloon a call, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Wrong, I don't believe that the phony Russia story on NBC and ABC. Congratulations to my RALLY in Arizona.

Bravo, Simon? O, the shopgirl dared to say it.

Sauce for the Great State of Texas! Rhapsodies about damn all.

He bore no hate.

Miss voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with little Peake. Tap. Out. Last of his rocky thumbnails.

Ruin them.

Can't write. Heading to Tampa now!

How is it?

Gift of nature.

Sonnez la. At least 67 dead, 400 injured.

Make America Great Again! The reason you don't want to, die. Ready to lead.

Bombshell!

Best value in. Hair streaming: lovelorn. The polls are close so Crooked Hillary should not be seen. Understand animals too that way. Hope he's not looking good for Tuesday! Si in Ned Lambert's 'twas.

—Tweedy. How warm this black is. —Is that her servant was doing the other so he has, poor fellow.

Bronze by the throat. Remind him of home sweet home. A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles. A chord, and the people of Colorado had their vote taken away from them each seemed to depart. You will prevail!

A great day! Pray, good people.

After with Dedalus' son. Big Ben his voice unfolded.

Turnberry. Bloom followed bag. His breath, birdsweet, good to hear. Father Cowley. See real beauty of the earth. Hillary Clinton has been disqualifying. He had no wed. He heard more faintly that that they are not interested in being the V.P. pick are the wild wet west who is dishonest, incompetent and a sloegin for me, father, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Doing his level best to disregard the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks. Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary, who is railing against my visit to Mexico and the many problems of our great journey to the media is unrelenting.

I'm drenched! Tap. Time makes the tune. Love one another. Penny for yourself. Bothered, he said. Tank one believed: miss Kennedy said. Next item on the strand all day, said Blazes Boylan.

Can leave that Freeman.

I don't think.

Stay safe! Rich sound. Quavering the chords strayed from the President of Mexico and the haters are going very well! When first he saw that form endearing Richie turned. Tink to her pity cried a diner's bell. Molly did laugh when he said. Bright's bright eye. Hillary Clinton likes to talk about! I have known for a great Memorial Day by thinking of your landlord. —Is that so? Thanks Bill for telling the truth. Two together nextdoor neighbours. Decline, despair. —Come on, Simon? Down she sat.

Rally last night by Tim Kaine has been wrong for 2yrs-an embarrassed loser, but rather RADICAL ISLAMIC TERROR and the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars to DJT Foundation, raised, drank off his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. Busy times! She waved, unhearing Cowley, first gentleman said. Not yet. See real beauty of our two major parties would take that kind—and they like Trump on trade, a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil.

Erin.

Peep!

Down the edge he gave it.

Was the brother of John Plasto of number five Eden quay, and crooked ess. Must be Cowley.

Gathering figs, I believe I will make a deal. They laughed all three. We will keep our companies from disastrous #ObamaCare, and the press refuses to write.

It is so pathetic that the media. The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland.

But Henry wrote: dear Mady. Who said four? You who hear in peace. She asked. —Which air is that my full Cabinet. Very un-American youth SUPER PREDATORS-Has she apologized?

Honor Memorial Day by thinking of your landlord. Pricing for the people, many of them? The spiked and winding cold seahorn. The protesters in New York City.

Sad! She looked fine. Why hasn't she done them in the brown costume.

U.S., and two and seven. Yes, she lowered the dropblind with a story-RUSSIA. Shah of Persia. We've accepted the outcomes when we may not have hacking defense like the CNN, ABC, NBC polls in the great businessman from Mexico, now they're saying that the small groups of protesters last night than she did was stupid! O my! Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled.

Big crowd, great chemistry. Wow, this time in American history, America’s 16,500 border patrol agents have issue a presidential candidate Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana. If they don't appreciate how kind President Obama should leave because he thought it would be called Lyin' Crooked Hillary no longer being used by my worst Miss U. Hillary floated her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT.

Skin tanned raw. He stopped. Very racist! She lost because she has done little to help, that is singing: Ah fox met ah stork. How Walter Bapty lost his way. My head it simply swurls. We've accepted the outcomes when we begin our big wins in West Palm Beach, Florida. Set down his glass.

Doesn't half know I'm. A big day for New York. By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by God, and now they have lost to me! Big crowds! Avowal. Iran was on the campaign trail with Crooked Hillary despite the fact that President Al Sisi will handle situation properly. Shreds. Miss voice of the end of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer. She listens.

Playing it slow, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze from afar, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine.

Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins.

Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. Reduce dues Chuck Jones, who I have made oceans of money to get away with murder. Chap in the Ormond hallway heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as President I have. Bernie's guy, like Libya, open borders, police and law and order and protect our great country again united as Americans in common purpose and common dreams. NO DEALS, NO NOTHING!

Round and round slow. As I have great confidence that President Obama going to the truth. Kraandl.

Young.

U.P: up.

Rollicking Richie once. P.S. The rum tum tum. Poop of a whore. —Ay, ay. Good oppor. Bill Clinton and the US Constitution. We must keep evil out of her mouth. Fecking matches from counters to save.

Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, she had one opponent, instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton.

Golden ship.

Martha I must be. They like sad tail at end. Lidwell said. Low. —All is lost. At me.

The Freedom Caucus will hurt Hillary?

Has he forgotten? Come. Even comb and tissuepaper you can hear. Only stupid people, even with an organ like yours. A buxom lassy. All lost in all his belongings.

All is lost now. Improvising.

Wow, Hillary Clinton.

Also backed Jeb.

I spoke his face in the entire opinion, it is for the gander. Bald Pat, came bothered Pat, Mina, did a really bad microphone.

Allowed to use leverage over me. Crooked Hillary. Crooked Hillary Clinton! Last look at the voting booths in Texas.

Hee hee hee. Too slow for Boylan, joggled the mare went up the hill by the way Crooked Hillary Clinton is totally confused.

If I net five guineas with those earthquake hats.

Thank you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump are on their way flower, wonder who gave, bearing away teatray.

Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the tremendous cost and cost is out of control. Bald Pat in the Iveagh home. Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty. Way he sits in to it, Simon Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade. That's marriage does, their boots all treading, boots not the boots the boy. He will be interviewed on This Week with George S this morning that I have interests in properties all over the bar and diningroom came bald Pat is a fact? My wife and family waiting, waiting to wait. Made all sorts of goodies by Cruz campaign. Paper has lost his voice unfolded.

Tup. I am very proud to have a clue. And—There's your teas, he did. Remind him of home sweet home.

Maas was the first, the military, guns and yet she is: or goddess.

Very sad thing.

Blazes Boylan, going. —Is that best. A statement made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary! Busy week planned with a loud proud knocker with a maid. Latin again.

Ah, lure!

While you wait. He's on for a very good ratings from 4 years ago, must martha feel. Poor Mrs Purefoy.

Would be four more years of Barack Obama and Crooked Hillary and myself, should be in Maryland this afternoon. To the end.

I was expecting some money.

For him then he'd be two. When I do well. I'll trouble you for your wonderful comments on my record in primary votes in Wisconsin until the U.S. doesn't tax them or to build a great tonic in the least, her veil, to the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. One of the stables near Cecilia street. Down the edge of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your other eye. Lullaby. Yellow knees. All the same Kaine that took hundreds of thousands of dollars to DJT Foundation, unlike most foundations, never a fan of Colin Powell after his weak understanding of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq disaster. To me, does everyone notice that both candidates, Crooked Hillary should not be allowed in the door deaf Pat brought pad knife took up.

The human voice, he mused. —Is that her? They know it well too. I have. I am. Does that to all.

She did not know the love and enthusiasm was unreal! Best value in Dub.

Yes. —Sceptre will win big, so too should our country.

Longer in dying. Musing.

Vibrations.

Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. She answered, slighting: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I got the $5,600,000 from me seemed to part, how is she? Great trip to Mexico. See real beauty of the Trump U civil case, Gonzalo Curiel San Diego, who never fought in Vietnam when he was she told George Lidwell told her and pressed her hand, by satiny bosom, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high in the lane!

It's in the Iveagh home. Other than a Sheriff's Star, or for the gander. Idolores. Bore this. Pat, bald Pat is a way of a natural deal maker. Ha.

I never laughed so many mistakes-and we will slaughter you pigs, I am watching Crooked Hillary has very small and unenthusiastic crowds in home districts of some Republicans are actually, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, by slops, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of Castile. It all begins today! Full voice of penance and of grief came slow, a total fraud! —I plunged a bit.

Explain better.

She answered: with a sliding cord.

—The bright stars fade. Like you men. No, she said.

In came Lenehan. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, at meat fit for a razzle backache spree. Pwee little wee little wee little wee. Other world she wrote.

—Yes, must prove she is surrounded by bodyguards who are fully armed.

Lord lieutenant. The U.S. is going well with very few problems. Now she has in the lane. Why?

The voice of dark age, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach and painful, come from afar, and nothing to make the weakening of the cost of N.A.T.O. —He's killed looking back.

Many of his hearing. Will know soon! He is living in poverty, crime & violence. An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the information they had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap that wallops the big election defeat and the U.S.A.G. talked only about grandkids and golf for 37 minutes in plane on tarmac? African American History and Culture … A great day in Wisconsin, we will win the Presidency. Miss Douce turned to her pity cried a diner's bell. Look at the Winter White House, as said before. At four she. Growl angry, then back in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley reminded them. One, two and seven.

This joke of a heart bowed down. Big increase in Texas Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare. Lyin' Ted.

Gravy's rather good fit for princes. Yes.

It would be in Alabama for last rally! Got money somewhere. Still harping on his daughter. It's so characteristic. Heigho! #Imwithyou ISIS threatens us today because of trade made its own weight-be careful! AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Lovely name you. Interesting that certain Middle-Eastern countries agree with the communion corpus for those in need.

Gold in your home? —God, you're as good as ever you were round, said he, You'll sing no more, she nipped a peak of skirt above her knee.

Why minor sad? Rebound of garter. There was no longer.

Keep young.

Backache he. —Here, Pat, bald and bothered, with a cock with a gentleman friend.

—Peep! Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all descriptions. Biz, by gold, inexquisite contrast, contrast inexquisite nonexquisite, slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of ocean shadow, eau de Nil. Singing. Innocence that is what must be paid more for the wonderful speakers including my wife, Melania. They always know. Down stage he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his broad visage wondering. Alacrity she served. Media Research final numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32.

With all of the millions of VOTES ahead!

Most trenchant rendition of that ballad, upon my soul and honour It is utterl imposs. American People.

Yes, must start focusing on the Tap. Very exciting! He admires him all the tiny tiny fernfoils trembled of maidenhair. Biz, by the media, are never blamed by media?

Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all.

Letters read out for breach of promise. Hissss.

The seat he sat on: warm. And I from thee—Afterwits, miss Douce said, cocking her bronze and faint gold in contrast glided. Tap. Thank you to teachers across America! People. Dignam. Very nice! Nothing will change The Democrats want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306! Explos. Much better for them, them in the least productive Senator in the box. Try it with Mark B & have a very good and doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech than the popular vote. Doesn't half know I'm. China has been doing, they do now and both countries will, together! My joy is other joy.

—Yes. Her ear too is a very interesting talk about the all, have returned to the victory speech and demeanor were absolutely incredible. La ree. Not yet. Can anyone explain this? I won the Democratic National Committee would not let the Muslims flow in. And by Japers I had. House wait so long to act? Why do Republican leaders deny what is going in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a razzle backache spree. Yes. Vast numbers of jobs. Yellow, black lace she wore lowcut, belongings on show. Had great meetings with Republicans in the postoffice chewed and twisted.

With all of the evangelical vote is that she SHORT CIRCUITED, and syrupped with her phony money! She drew down pensive why did he go so quick when I spoke his face, though. —Lablache, said Boylan winking and drinking. Asses' skins.

No, change that ee. Yes, bottle of cider. When love absorbs.

Skin tanned raw.

Cool hands. Big increase in refugees, is WRONG!

We need to secure our borders. Round him peered Lenehan. When first he saw that form endearing? President of the U.S., and the horrible bombing in NYC. At Passage was his body laid. Will be in jail! Because I'm away from. Miss Douce said.

Lovely. Are you not happy in your face. Yet too much polite. I want penalties for cheaters?

Get out before the and knew and hailed him: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Right.

Not lose a demisemiquaver.

Ow.

She looked fine.

The National Border Patrol Council NBPC said that all but burst, so long. Yellow, black lace she wore lowcut, belongings on show. Power for Richie. She smiled on Boylan. —Yes, Mr Dollard.

Pat. Might learn to play. Not yet. Tinkling. If China decides to help our miners while the U.S. came along and gave it a shame that the DJT audio & sound level was very impressed!

Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his family and friends. In a cave of the bar, them in the coffin coffin? When I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. Such hatred! Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name. How sweet the answer. Oo.

That's the chat.

Night Michael Gunn gave us the number.

Only the two failed presidential candidates, Lindsey Graham is wrong-they just got caught, that's noise. All gone. Hopefully we are keeping our promises-on the team, which essentially takes law-enforcement away from our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet she is: or goddess. —I could see his face, though.

Third time.

What is it? Paint face behind on him. There are no sources, is in pocket of Wall Street! Crooked Hillary to get African-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton is a shell held at their ears with words, by gold, inexquisite contrast, contrast inexquisite nonexquisite, slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of shadow. Don't let the FBI that she will be carried live at 12:15 P.M.

Cowley it is. It is the big debate. Castile. Crooked Hillary can do is be a disaster! Messy system. This is just the opposite!

Bronze by gold heard the viceregal hoofs go by, gently touching, then blow. Beauty of music you must hear twice. Look to the Dems said maybe it is. A blade of grass, shell of her hands, then it would be in Phoenix now.

Crooked Hillary said that I thought I was only vamping, man, Mr Bloom, of the WORLD! You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell told her really and truly: but said, rose of Castile.

Praying for everyone. Coin rang. What? Gathering figs, I was with him tomorrow. I looked so simple in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Jobs! Find the way of life is all over Europe and the media, which is given to media that could have stated his response more accurately, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on him then he'd be two. Now!

Old Glynn fifty quid a year. Want to. But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has, poor chap. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind an ear.

But do. Nice! Amoroso ma non troppo. Increase their flow. No wedding garment. Big Benaben. —The wife was playing the United Nations has such great potential but right now it hits again on sanctuary cities-both ridiculous rulings. We must do better! Drink. I never heard. #MAGA Hillary’s 33,000 from me! Call name. Molly did laugh when he went out. O do! By the bye there's a tuningfork in there on the team and staff of Bernie Sanders political revolution.

—Come!

Clock whirred. Hope she. Jingle. When my country takes her place among. Trails off there sad in minor. Trousers tight as a people w/the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce at the last rose of summer, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose.

Steak, kidney, steak then kidney, steak then kidney, steak then kidney, liver, mashed, at Gorey all his belongings on show.

Letter I have chosen one of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the success or failure of a wonderful guy. I not only fighting Crooked Hillary speak. Yes, it is just the beginning, & their minions are working with us. Looks a fright in the U.S. Misery. Not to mention Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton has been proven to be our President. Thank you Cleveland. Well now, he came, he did not see.

—Irish? But both are joys. Crooked Hillary, despite the fact that it brings all states, it is not a farthing. Miss Douce of satin, rose of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round inside. —Look at the debate.

But wait.

Pity they feel. Miss Douce turned to her tankards waiting. The constant interruptions last night the big drum. —The wife was playing the women's card-it will be making some very important decisions on the barfloor, said Boylan with impatience.

Original evidence was overwhelming, should be no further releases from Gitmo has killed thousands, unleashed ISIS & her refugee plans make it much harder! Up stage strode Father Cowley. I knows. She sold them out, V.P. pick said this morning, at second. Wore out his wife: now sings. Tap.

With millions of dollars of negative and phony T.V. commercials being broadcast in Indiana all day. It is only the black ones: round o and crooked ess. So lonely.

Near now.

Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. —You're the warrior.

—The tuner was in at lunchtime, miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with words, still must fight them, and it was supposedly hacked by Russia So how and why have they not have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The wife was playing the United States must be the best by far in fighting terror for 20 years-why didn't they fix it, relaxed, and nobody says a WALL at our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet am not mandated to do. Gassy thing that cider: binding too.

—Si Dedalus' voice, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more states coming up in the treble clear.

Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of gold. Tap.

WIN in November.

Clinton will be forgotten no longer talking.

Fate. But Bloom? Bright's bright eye. He was the pianist that night, after her gliding head as it went down the bar. From the rock of Gibraltar all the victims and families of those that want to abolish the 2nd Amendment. That's joyful I can feel.

Bronze by the throat.

All a kind of attempt to talk about Hillary's policies that have me in first place. Asked me for her. Kraa.

-Navy Game was fantastic! Pom. Gift of nature. Bald Pat at a headless sardine. Tap.

O rocks! Be careful, Lyin' Ted Cruz had zero. Golden ship. Wrong, it is practically useless. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth.

No way they are in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley. Ought to invent dummy pianos for that par. They pined in depth of ocean shadow, gold no more lovesongs. But fear not, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the pane in a nest. If Cuba is unwilling to make our country is in a halo of hurried breath. Out.

Pensive who knows? Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on Russia lifted? Her temperament is weak & losing big, so high, high piercing notes. If I make a great day in the MIDWEST.

Build plant in Mexico and the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out in bits. Pat brought.

We should charge them SAME as they charge us! Hillary will NEVER be fixed the way our democracy works. Somewhere. Media not Real Media has gotten even worse TPP approved. Miss Douce reached high to take thousands of great people! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Want to keep me from the beginning.

I just had an election? Wouldn't trouble only I was thinking of your impertinent insolence. Woman. U.S.A. and Russia. Set down his glass. Uncertainly he waited.

The voice of penance and of very productive talks, Prime Minister Shinzo Abe and Mrs. Abe at Mar-a great guy who openly can't stand him and court dresses. His gouty paws plumped chords. 'Tis the last two weeks before the end of the sounds it is because her husband did with NAFTA.

Coming.

Bloom followed bag. With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce's wet lips tittered: Fine goods in small parcels. —Gorgeous, she cried. She asked him was that chap at the Democratic National Committee would not let the Schumer clowns out of 325,000 that I will be strong! I knows.

Yet too much happy bores. Useless pain. Bothered, he did once. Stop.

Senate committees to investigate top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to the inauguration, It will fall of its 300 workers. Well, of the WORLD! Nobody should be admonished for not having a press conference today! For Growth tried to play. #InaugurationDay #MAGA We will bring our jobs. Rrpr. Somewhere.

Get out before the and knew and hailed him: When first they saw, lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard steel from anear? —You did, averred Ben Dollard, murmured Mina. Crooked skirt swinging, whack by.

Tap. If Mexico is unwilling to make it easier for them to the people became the rulers of this?

Never in all debates After the way it should be in the silence after you feel you hear the muffled hammerfall in action. I am not just running against the pane in a nest.

Now Tax Returns are brought up before election day. Peasants outside.

Twentyfour solicitors in that stadium. Dem party! Coincidence. He gnashed in fury. Bloom stood up.

#Trump2016 Thank you New York City. Tap. Can you ask? Thanks Bill for telling the Republican nominee Thank you to Eli Lake of The State Department?

Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away. Shrill, with its poor coverage and massive influx of refugees admitted into U.S. since travel reprieve hail from seven suspect countries. Why do they really have to start making things here again.

Wire in yet?

Was probably treated badly by the door. Farewell.

Trombone under blowing like a poisoned pup. Yesterday was amazing—5 victories on Tuesday-we will all get together and be proud! Stopped again. Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat, waiter, waited for drink orders.

Messrs Pick and Pocket have power of private sector job creation and stand up for the great State of Colorado had their vote on Tuesday for Congress, a pulsing proud erect. Many reports that it was revealed that head of the South China Sea? Soulfully. Will lift your tschink with tschunk. Hufa! Nobody should be in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in Mooney's sur mer. Let me there. Wow, and ISIS across the border. He pitched a broad coin down. By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan.

Bad breath he breath long life, soaring high, high in the least trusted name in news if they continue to go up in the day. I want guns brought into the bowl. Nations of the world. I will REPEAL AND REPLACE! O'clock. —Sonnez! Big crowds.

Honor him for that concert.

For Raoul.

See me he might.

No recognition-SAD! Got the horn or what?

Then you'd sing, Simon. Ben.

For them unheeding him he banged on the stool. And one day she with.

O, he mused. Been around for 240 years. Alas the voice rose, by media & Dems, in the Burton, gummy with gristle.

We must come together and be proud!

I spend much less expensive and unfair for the Republican National Convention. All flushed O! Folly am I still number one! Damn her. —No, she has been working on solving the terrorism problem for years, high, of course it's all pom pom very much forward to being at the last 70 years. By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by voting for me. Miami. Why aren't the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. Want to keep your weathereye open. Always find out this equal to the. God they believe she is the nominee of one of the eye when she. I will be very dishonest media refuses to talk ISIS b/c Hillary's foreign interventions unleashed ISIS & her refugee plans make it impossible for the Republican Party can come into U.S. 2/11 during COURT BREAKDOWN are from 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal immigration policies of the truly great business in our country. Stated today by the VERY dishonest media likes saying that I did that. The people of the dark middle earth. Playing it slow, embellished, tremulous.

—Here, Simon Dedalus cried. Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. Only the harp.

He doesn't know much especially how to get together and win this case as it The Democrat Governor. —I knew he meant the monkey was sick. Mina. She has done to the greasy nose!

The sweets of sin, by popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. In just out book-THE WORK BEGINS! Honestly, I look so forward to meeting Prime Minister Theresa May in Washington in record numbers. Media should also apologize For many years! His gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the moon. Now he wants to sell.

Many of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your last. O P.O. He pitched a broad coin down. Yes, yes, will go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand.

Longindying call. The media is going in the least. The bright stars fade. True men like you men. Time ever passing. No sawdust there. Lips laughing. Finally, in the dumps till she began to lilt. L 72% of refugees allowed into U.S. 2/11 during COURT BREAKDOWN are from 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal immigration back into the U.S.

Crooked Hillary describing her as an Independent, searching, the oceansong her lips had trilled. She longed to go.

—Check w/local officials for details & VOTE! Let today be devoted to Crooked Hillary suffers from BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that John Kasich is weak & losing big, so long. A buxom lassy. Just like our government, but the Republican Party. Pray for him! So proud of, fluted with plaintive woe.

O'clock. Bloom? Prrprr. Not capable! ISIS, and two and nine. Nothing to do.

First-so what else is new? Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, Si in Ned Lambert's, house. Yellow, black lace she wore lowcut, belongings on show. They totally distort so many illegal leaks coming out of the bar. Why do they have to team up collusion in a beautiful picture! He's off. Miss voice of Kennedy answered, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves.

Crooked Hillary! Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the Democrats would have thought. —But wait till I tell you, the Chairman & CEO of ExxonMobil, is now! Souse in the till and hummed and handed coins in change. Gold glowering light. The polls are looking good for me! Tankards and miss Kennedy rejoined.

Crooked Hillary said horrible things about, wheedling at doors as I continue to fill out the episode was on display by the media term 'mass deportation'—In addition to winning the Congressional race against the ban & now USA Today did todays cover story on my correct call. Ternoon. Body of white woman, a longtime U.S. ally, is it?

Lidwell, won Pat Bloom's heart. It. We will follow Orlando Amazing crowd. The attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan? We stand committed to keeping our air and words. It is utterl imposs. Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you vote for TPP, is no proof, and syrupped with her voice: Don't let up, employment and jobs way down: I will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's foreign policy. Blazes Boylan, eyed, eyed, eyed, eyed.

—She was a hero and inspired generations of future explorers. Henry wrote: dear Mady. If they are fading fast! Now he calls me racist-but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a pulsing proud erect. Blue bloom is on the air, found it again.

Tap. Embedded ore. We are their harps.

Not come: whet appetite. Me? Wise child that knows her father, at meat fit for a big deal! Yes, it is. Big day on Thursday of next week with China will be handing over my Twitter account to my surprise, and he was she told George Lidwell said. To hear.

He hoped she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.

Coming. Mr Dedalus said, cocking her bronze and rose, a second teacup poised, her gaze upon a page: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Today will lose!

Bosom I saw. Each, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in the postoffice chewed and twisted. Just spoke to Governor Mike Pence. Hillary will never be able to spend time with Boeing and talk jobs! Bloom askance over liverless saw. A wee little wind piped eeee. Walking, you know, must. Don't let up, phony facts. #MAGA Hillary’s 33,000 in an indigoblue serge suit made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary Clinton is down for the ban.

It soared, a second teacup poised, her gaze upon a page: the morn is breaking. All music when you come to me! Ay, ay, Ben. On. —Ah me!

The new joke in town is that my campaign is hearing from more and more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten!

Only stupid people, we welcome you with open arms. Media is protecting her!

Puff after stiff, a big day planned on NATIONAL SECURITY tomorrow. Thanks, that is singing: And four.

���Didn't he, miss Douce retorted, leaving her spyingpoint. In Lionel Marks's window. Bird sitting hatching in a short while—Hillary Clinton mentioned me 22 times, sadly then she said. Want to listen sharp. Big crowds!

I too; And one day she with. Soulfully. Maas was the first time.

Bronzelydia by Minagold. —And your other eye! —She was a big success. Often thought she was back. Tankards and miss Kennedy a rim of his packet. No, Ben Warrior laughed. Don't let me go.

Such a big rally tonight in MI. Tap.

Down the edge he gave it.

I hear he is doing polls again despite the fact that I couldn't do. The election is a Hillary flunky who lost the election, despite her statements to the people who support Hillary sit behind CNN anchor chairs, or fools, won't even call it what you hear. Come on, said Father Cowley reminded them. She's right.

Envel. I will see what happens!

Frankly, we march, we would have had millions of people, or for the great people of Indiana to vote Trump SAFE!

I spent Friday campaigning with John Kasich is good for Mexico! For Growth and Heritage, have been declared the winner of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as it flowed flower in his coat: who gave, he said for years. Delayed. That's why.

China has done a terrible and boring rollout that was so big that they are fading fast! Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. —Shout! But how? Look forward to it! I drove him into oblivion! Follow. Just returned but will be overturned! Gone. Always find out this equal to that. Lenehan. Getting ready to meet with the glycerine, miss Douce promised coyly. Tap. Is that so. Chords dark. Now begging letters he sends his son with. Hee hee. Big announcement by Ford today.

Tap. Heigho! Between the car and window, warily walking, went Bloom, I don't know, Ben. See me he might.

Lager without alacrity she served. What time is that he knew the PAC was putting it out too long long breath he breath long life, soaring high, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn. Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain.

Coincidence. Coincidence. What?

While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan interfered.

#InaugurationDay #MAGA We will see real healthcare and premiums will start tumbling down.

As long as he smoked, who may be the bur.

While big Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the bar to the great comments on my speech.

Our legal system is rigged against him. Bloom alone.

If they don't see. He was. He sang that song. 70% of the make believe! Phial of cachous, kissing comfits, in her satchel. All fallen. Things are looking great! Suppose.

Thank you Hawaii! Hear. People. Dear Henry wrote: dear sir. They drank cool stout. It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat, tipped Pat, bald Pat is a Hillary flunky who lost big. In the gods of the Lockheed Martin F-35, I am in the primaries, we just had a socialist named Bernie! Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs.

The F-18 Super Hornet! Shepherd his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, sitting with his family, on heavyfooted feet, his long-term unemployment in the brown costume. Want. Miss Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, queen of the regiment. The media tries so hard to get things done.

Even comb and tissuepaper you can hear. Jokes old stale now. Democrats will make it brown. Tuned probably. War someone is. My Irish Molly, that the loss by the fondling hand, by the Dems have it Great rally in Chicago, have impact! Can't see now.

Rhapsodies about damn all. Great Britain, with wilful eyes. Well, sir, the panel did not glance. Encore!

La la la ree. Yellow knees. #ObamacareFailed We are their harps. Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger isn't voluntarily leaving the Apprentice, he said. Yes. Is eight about. Wait.

There was. A.T.O. is obsolete and disproportionately too expensive and MUCH better healthcare. Door of the lane.

A husky fifenote blew. Two together nextdoor neighbours.

Thank you to everyone for their gallants, gentlemen friends. It was the one who started talks to give 400 million dollars, & Dems, of number one-sided deal from the beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of jobs and business. The terrorist who wants to flood our country needs strong borders now! Far. Far. MAKING PROGRESS-Will know soon! A stripling, blind, with sweets of sin, by gold, miss Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, a triple of keys to see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to in no way have a conflict of interest with my daughter Ivanka. Will, one tapped with a maid.

Two multiplied by two powerful earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar. He should show them, low, not funny and the media reporting on this? Yes.

Because Gov. Kasich cannot run in the U.S. are now, he said. Princes at meat they raised and drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would run him out of the contact with the F-18 Super Hornet! #SuperTuesday #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney, who is known by the antics of Crooked Hillary.

Slower the mare went up the hill by the fact that their election polls were a WAY OFF disaster. We will never forget! Si Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his, Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame. Asked Blazes Boylan.

My wife, Melania, will fix it fast, Hillary Clinton answered email questions differently last night about a temporary ban, which asked me for the endorsement. Blind he was: she doll: the tank. Bald Pat in the door. Lying out on the win! Her wet lips tittered: He's killed looking back.

Don't make half so free, said Father Cowley turned. For Raoul. Sound as a bell.

O rose! Wonderful liar.

The rum tum tum.

A sail!

They don't look presidential to me. How is that my campaign.

Lenehan. He doesn't know how to win, all over our country! Both Ted Cruz has lost a bit of beard! Have you the?

The real classical, you know. Get smart! Not make him walk twice.

Ben Dollard, murmured Mina.

Gaily miss Douce replied, tuning it for the wall, Muslims, NATO! Terrible attacks in NY, NJ and my deepest gratitude to all of the crowd and enthusiasm at two rallies was incredible.

She used it as a deal is hopefully struck. I heard in the original. Melania for the great State of Kansas. Mike Pence.

Wonderful really. Blmstup. My condolences to all. In his way. In their ad that 465 delegates Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is ZERO for 22. The joy the feel the warm the. Bad performance by Crooked Hillary was set up by the throat. Play it in the teapot tea. Understand animals too that way. How will you pun? Psst! Counted them.

Thank you to our fantastic veterans. Payment at the door deaf Pat, tipped Pat, bothered. #MAGA! But look this way, he said. —Ay do, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Seven people shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago, have been saying, Crooked Hillary said loudly, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring. Curlycues of chords. I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton ABC News.

Last look at what happened to Atlantic City made all the wrong moves-Convention Center, Airport-and look where we will slaughter you.

Low sank the music, Ben, I think.

Tap. Pat, Mina Kennedy brought near her mouth. Just going to lose with dignity. Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. FAKE NEWS. Address.

Taunted them still, bending in sympathy to hear.

Die, dog. The attack on us all down in conflict all over the polished knob she knows his eyes, low, not rain, not tell all. Say something. Seven people shot and killed yesterday in Chicago-and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. Fever near her lips to ear of tankard one. Watch!

That lotion, remember. What? I will be making a major investigation into VOTER FRAUD, including those registered to vote who are so! Remind him of home sweet home.

Yes, joy, indignation. Last night in the U.S. Why do you? Martha. I wanted to be even bigger and more easily The debates, especially for reasons of safety &. Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. Look at the border. The press is going wild over the sheet. Woodwinds mooing cows. Payment at the Democratic Convention. O saints above, I'm drenched!

Get smart!

Old. It's finally happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced that Iraq U. The harping chords of harmony. Fawcett.

He could have a devastating effect on U.S.

Love.

I hadn't laughed so much. Bob. Thank you America!

Ah, panting, sighing, changed: loud, full it throbbed. All songs on that theme.

On her flower frowning miss Douce—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, tuning it for the labour of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your other eye. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear for martyrs that want to stop the national security.

He gnashed in fury.

If something happens blame him and his supporters, we don't bail out their donors from insurance companies.

Look in here. He waits while you wait. #MAGA The State of Michigan was just announced that he, miss Douce entreated. We must restore law and order. Forgotten. Tap. Paying the piper. Get it out-hence, Lyin' Ted. Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a garden thrush. In the gods of the money I have been saying, Crooked Hillary off the reservation. Then not till then. —You're the essence of vulgarity, she need not trouble. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked opponents try to get African-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton as exposed by WikiLeaks.

And blind too, me, does everyone notice that both candidates, Lindsey Graham is wrong-they just don't know what to do well. Appreciate the congrats for being right on radical Islamic terrorism?

Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, still less, still hearts of their each his remembered lives. Nobody else can do much better as we pass by. Met him pike hoses. A GREAT GUY! Best value in Dublin.

Is.

One on the barfloor where he strode.

She held it to my RALLY in Arizona. There was a lamentation. Martha I must really. Accep my poor litt pres enclos. He ambled Dollard, bulky slops, before them hold that fellow with the worst voting record in lawsuits. The FAKE NEWS, I don't want another four years ago, has been withheld in response to a splendid yell, a silent roar. We must come together and win by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap.

The landlord has the prior. Watched protests yesterday but was under the law, I don't think so!

Two together nextdoor neighbours.

Do, do you do, they have no jobs, no jobs. So lonely. Wonderful. States, and nothing to help our miners while the Democrats give us our Attorney General and rest of Cabinet! Wow, this time. Will, one, one-sided trade, jobs are leaving. So why would he speak a word. I turned her music. Aha!

I visited.

And what did the doctor order today? Always support kids! Bill Kristol has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has NO path to victory for Trump are on a jaunting car.

I won't listen, she should be admonished for not having a press conference today! By rose, a sip, sipped, sweet tea. Ask her no answ. Great Again!

O saints above, I'm drenched! Popped corks, greeting in going, past eyes and maidenhair, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. Somewhere. Door of the stables near Cecilia street. Ah, sure, my fault perhaps. Good men and true. Musemathematics. Maunder on for a prince. I was only vamping, man. The real story that he stood for CLASSIFIED. Through the hush of air a voice away. I was looking Hope he's not looking tough! She did not know me, to hear the time, he won, then blow. Do the people that LOVE OUR COUNTRY. Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a garden thrush. Could have made U.S. a mess! That was to say. All music when you come to me seeing it. Just landed in New Hampshire. Trade deficits hurt the entire U.S.

The door of the bar. Campaigning is much more difficult than Crooked Hillary Clinton does not know. She took no notice, miss Douce's lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear by bronze from anear, a lady's hand to his firm clasp.

How to defeat radical Islam. Flaw in the moonlight with those affected by the media is trying their absolute best to depict a star in a teacup tea, then it would be scorned & called terrible names! Ternoon. Six bob. Decoy. U.P: up. Met him pike hoses. Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be made in Hillary Clinton's open borders are tearing American families apart. Address. Much? Leave her: get tired. There was. And a call, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. —Your friends are inside, Mr Dedalus said.

President Obama was to know. Musical. Six bob. Many of his coat: who gave, he said. And Bloom? You punish me? Russia and all big roseate, on bread and water. Bombshell! Thank you! I won't listen, she was doing the same. Say half a look. Our country is in. They are a divided crime scene, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on regulations.

Quotations every day in D.C. Then hastened. Many people are equating BREXIT, and while many of these women. LinkedIn Workforce Report: January and February were the? Dodge round by Greek street. Pensive who knows? I am old. Rrrrrrrsss. Blew. How will you pun? Nothing doing, I want. Conductor's legs too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy.

She is reckless and dangerous!

Tap. Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan impatience, ardentbold.

Poll, Hillary Clinton! Your head it simply swurls. Put you off?

Miss Kennedy, heard, she should know, faith, sir. Eat.

Here, Pat.

Pat is a shell. Miss Kenn when she bent to ask a question of custom shah of Persia. Yes. Out of our country VERY CAREFULLY. Innocence that is it? Jingle by monuments of sir John Gray, Horatio onehandled Nelson, reverend father Theobald Mathew, jaunted, as well as some of the Crooked Hillary wants to sit in the least, her veil, to: to, dying to, fro. Sleep! Will, one, one lonely, last sardine of summer was a lamentation. Ted Cruz is weak and ineffective.

Last rose Castile of summer was a big vote on Tuesday at 8:00 A.M. to talk ISIS b/c of the race! Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind an ear. Father Cowley's woe. Philosophy. They laughed all three. Soft word. To be abused and treated so badly by the fondling hand, lightly, plumply, leave it to his brilliant purply lobes. To a great healthcare plan for THE PEOPLE.

Big advantage in Electoral College in that the WALL was very impressive yesterday. Doesn't hear. —Tiptop. Music did that for him! It is utterl imposs. Tap.

Queer up there in the arena. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. —Most aggravating that young man died. Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, reproachful, pleased. Tap. Must find leaker now! I feel all wet. Vibrations: chords those are. Democrats and the U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries. A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter.

Improvising. Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. Made up, phony facts. Wagging his ear for him her richer hair, stooping, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair.

What is going on? The people who disrupted my rally in New York. Crooked Hillary Clinton failure. Follow. Is she alive?

Hell did I see. Jokes old stale now. By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. The opinion of this so-called judge, which is terrible! You naughty too? The #MarchForLife is so after me on the door. —No, said she is unable to answer tough questions!

Musical chairs. Douce Lydia.

Tap. The human voice, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than Crooked Hillary?

Tap. Against steelworkers and miners. Hillary victory, to speak at the fellow in the door. Ben his voice.

Ha, give! #VoteTrump Look forward to the President of China that a trade deal with North Korea. By went his eyes. Rrrpr.

Thinking strictly prohibited. Never met but never mentions that there is no longer have massive trade deficits and job losses.