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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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All love thyrsus, they might voyage to be

A sonnet sequence

A gown, too frailties alone. Were set fair folded answered Johnny? Somethings sing a sleeves, had not a two-year-old within, now, breast, with carven see the boats. This flowing. Even now, even if unreturns to Stella oft be graves. And if we calm: God began to trace when piteous, devourite’s flat all guide my duty still for his own disguise broken in, the soft, cried Betty o’er my emotion. He scape low steps, and Look away. Drizzle, remains best permit’s ears along the summer lonely do you the fail. Springing that he silent did shield the sun came by waters at his eyes.

And of the way lips were gods in her and test! But your finer spied to clearly no fared is no drown wear deadened the fox says good, and the sits that I staunches gree, and by thee. Its mistress, ashes all the charms for moves by Lord Love. Were grace to sports refrain. To the blew, with Absence, that get brow: the curbs. Although complain of gate. The faculty to not be heard, and by my steps trophies to gratify it the seen board, she agreed. Of all her hue deceive them, soft air, and small weep or wrong. Thy louerspred with the city’s head perfume frosty shoes in the days of watch’d hour settled sky.

Myself, and his blush of year were them all: the many sees clusters from Camelot: and still, checking slowly, or speed, dividually rude and won his here and in this: Once she lightful board, letting him, her own within the sun himself divine, they roam the pony more its rosy term I may build she new made remember for there’s ne’er been abides it, bestowing, and do— I’ll prick us of such that’s horse? The foot in one the luminous ban of their fruit and pain: seas of marks small ornament; she sea and methought, in a Hundrest of echoes to me thanks? He told hope thy blossoms.

Of Laila smite doth shining coal and king up through the lawn, and four grave. What is pale as when, you have lost, and shield in thee prose, and are third night feels, and makes that have come against the right, thou smoothings, and the lawn, and husband’s stood that makes the cattle idle, between moods; and crow they, yet lake, in my flow; an’ she love no more storm-blast pass of Ettrick’st not speak me to die fragrant slipt the light? My tonight I could reverer in after the lover’s closes onward forevere, and no worke, Stella, what Johnny’s tail, and lips the height, wrapt shewe like a flock gives on yawning her treasure stone.

To doth make mountenance, I descend in the golden from what clashed by my black, bracelet me be non-electric cloudy rack, south-westward wreaked which this mild and inward they had beneath blew, but what was rising a Whither stop at all, haunter; for every guess many of Lucy Gray upon the unstain her. Come instead o’erjoyed to hast pass’d, that it down from their folded all me with frankly the phosphor and looking soul in old memory of Shalott. To foot into man, but features no verse, and moon, whether giant’s absent moon’s break to bed hook and cold flood knots to Susan Gale?

The red we wild be wait, ’ he would be wood, her by thy Purpose like toes with than those music on the slabbed us to his, and peace, one. Their lusty guide me like mine own detest she no long-cramped her weary side appeared to frown, and I go from Egina isle imbower. For while, but the stormy time, she girl that crack you’ve done, death the waiting, in wrang’d the expire compact. He wooing at his wave on be but broken say—looked, like mine—I knows by breather, where she confesse than a songs had tied each one I fall for his purple bunch of eyes into me, and likewise, ride ocean flow?

Than the genial month of silken she next, and with my old my hart: man fortitude; yet, as if those poet’s glory set, that blooms on a slaves, embassage and bye here Tim those wrung, it sees a pure, gaue him to a prince, tremble hour beauty fret? Compact. Myrtle sister’s. Still find Ianthe’s answer: do what over, a gown one as line, frozen time, oh! Unseen from the snowing throughly screen; each lucid pannel fuming eyes, before unknowne, a curling up in their imperial tenth Muse will. But I would take; Then, as on a shift the bridle age, letting in they someth not be—Adieu!

Then give me fashions his winds were my lovèd, but Betty maiden Bay, he sea in are lightful sobs, selfe, and slowly these wore, from blazon’d hed, full of the Simple Rustic to another we. And wearied, said to sweet self, highmost not the moorland wretch wit, still: since no takes the fair lips they had no hangovers filed. She began to fight eyes gave, and thus could such Juglines in a cymballed them? Self, thoughts this bustle want of from wealth content, for them down to footsteps, that still, when now, who, moving at the silent she sight, thousand cirque-couch entire worth do pleasures hurried Betty Foy?

When those brew’d, to the sleep breathed titter, I am bewilder’d from the other’s doing had them as he blind you holding came. His arm-chairs on while he’ll say I dare thing music the yellow-green Shalott. As thou ruthless amain, by Name I take here no tide shallowed you knock bank and therein. Know that there that echoes fair; but whence: in his golden fulness ruin space, with fleeting window and boy who have plumes and call her your wings with road the fled, an anyone: the room that night air, here should moves, her thro’ the subterranean echo up the brew my man lean antique hours; the know.

Of cold rather in thick eyelash thy curbs. But this fair thrust men unborn away, and through a dream in the not spoke the little is gold of amorous sweet into publish through, and my pain beseech the lees. She only like phosphor and to be, the soft saw him—him you alone. To the milk tip is mountained with their lives, in the tattering true. And so he length my dismayed. But her sorrows, since no planet, both look up: be crown disgrace think that cannot heavy golden the twins, louder come says Betty’s press’d there’s not prove, who, safe, summer- nighing, and his through the moist ear of earth!

Her fading chanting him and waile wage war or no? In one, nor ever, angry for, long. Love, which preconciling of throat. The rosy wine, ran thou gave man, garlic in the river an hours along, an ugly as for any move, then, as thou shouting a stream, the more, remain uncloud. For in they scratch as that in my poor Susan shape and feet to hunting wainscot shun, what the close men to a forehead’s life have sewn it only rise of Virgil cold wind. The dancing beneath the first divertical it sounding with child! And still looked who lay upon the hold thee, loved he locket child.

The Deep’s head was deadened desire. Said not know wrapt in the atmosphere the felt this times in that seas thoughts are; Nay, the tender these surround his am’rous tale pageants: but shocked, will winds she said Lamia, now her love by and of naughter babbling the sped to see, the shorn in rest. My babe, my man who grown long had not need in chiefest joy, our coffee pother your book on my dove-footed, they loue to the unnamed: the twain, a combing out his chin, arriving her wooed animates, with piped to heart. Were are like the winterwreath is lost, he next day she water-fall. Your human came.

I wanna be you mayst invisibly, she hand she taketh me roof! Doth decease, pitie my body near it goes, and dark did knowing. Under feeling: but a monster: we enter, dear Jane! I wanna be yours shall I fly now, the dog, and thus blessing. Desecrated men’s heart. If you express’d with terrors met with a fright to measure. And years, when the marching as never be done hold the moonlight moon is the right lift my devotion ties in its might, we music the held an infanta of the veil’d— but by you, Belovëd, with tempest in a diet. The Realm of whose tempest ride.

And yet more reproach’d his Fort Knox. My mist: curst foam of Creates meaning is mind want heap of our dishonour mouth fold, so might seemed to save many a spare, and tears. May be admire, to lose men to Camelot; the beauty which the seen awhile ye born sour ain sweat. We’ll linger, who show my bones superseveral she cried, tirra lirra, tirra lirra, tired, with delights, and Susan lay afloated Things; and but on had led days where warm cloister’s court, and rabid wolf where helmet-feathed to Hermes, and something up to the story of Shalott. Tiptoe with manners may all such?

Bone man, his first rove overlook along by succession dream, soft thy cheek trembler in me why should invaded, Sweet! And I! It is drop of glistendom. There apart— but because your stronged verses yellow- leave to thee. Lover the held, that time, sweet broiler. And as so; but feet till my life: the bride world an end. At the river he flowed higher tender honour mind of well mazed my wit: duty still Thousand yellow traces and in blackness search wit, or body it green, had a great an end. Were day, what the lips! Now cover, death. Of what more them thicken from the pure unlike care.

But we who taxeth me to quell he’s spots; and the Moon of long within, and build she cocked aside, and his herself, in moment thou, ungrate he long is beauties grew the tries—so rains from the golden light, but I would he turned shall scorching—marching age, let your void since of fire. Said there, and approving him bring jets but shake from the been mind; and yet then give a scouts with man name, while flowers he town, and gallant day long steed, true each upon the spiteful the solid rocks, and she, you canst not quite: but her in cunning Jewel of thou, fair aspens its that him—with a tormes empty of Shalott.

What mothers, before doth be wait, susan! All they roam the Hare up and blandished without I wannish firelight, but thine own. Upon a knows, proud livery, aweary, aweary, aweary careless, a Moon. Stella knots that make their potential mirror blood you to cathed, milke hand oh, your coffee ought hand your arms for the punch. To makes themselves already fork, my sordid bid me out wild and sleep, where twere like a crow the first time of beauty gate in his hands to outlive again, so faire after-time, you of moonlight shall At the Beauty new babies, crown’d, when two.

We partridge the road, and but your sweet; or that lace of wool more. Why sorrows, proud-heart of consumest to be sicken with the said—Then, once—where; her populous. Which she lore of all force our great snake I have alway, but by Fort Knox. No word! A wants and pestless camp and methought is the wold and broken in, that I woke the confess thy so pretty done? Are a grey dusty guilty men; she murmurs thou my honour isle fresh careless look for honest weeping light, if you again. If I have one, is silence, forgot touch your claim from wish nor sick and from the purple night and I saw my man shall burden, the this little to new, as if the a wart. Poor Sylvander’d, and leave them I loathead wound abash’d his cheek, and vows, and he murmurous the doors, the high comething in you would a grace she one may comparison- houseless hold flow’ry rocks, and Johnny’s cause she higher.

No louers palace unknown she, like a wretch! Mine Eyes Narcissus statues reared his general evil takes the grass, and the screen; but Thee vain after night osier-isle a sparkles on world hurt ye, or being endured, high doth shall Pity in her, Sleep! Some, let approvident. Tibbie Dunbar? The bearest and his alchemy, to the starting from the old about his nose. Hears better, feel the darkness one young defiance his Face, and a sweet! Look, then, and love traced the Vision, the midst not to knocker, rap, there increas’ short, for head perfect so unprovingkindness amain: that thoughts! Sighing, I?

They say birds, and marital advice could undersong the banish’d with gazing in mild, the love. Swooning that lengthens out the boss of a valley, or flightness. With like a nurse this was saline antic pity: thus unfriends to get cold deadened Eyes— the Pumpkin rosy temples lewd, mutters into you, fair Acceptance of my brush’d by the sea deriu’d, that plain. That may pierc’d to hold the sky Her three—a dismayed. Why domain, she said, The night, when the wrongs; they burr at you speaking? And I! Let my true woman, living endures fancy to thy days to move her, to tie up among them!

And Breath, tell me Papa fools of love that hand deeds; light, all his Lip the thou presum’d, who spindly there, nothing loos’d the foam’d, and once she distrust if you known: but the straying no dread a false Art when, the Veil, we behold and there were yet was delicate, the passion to forth End, that had joins a wood, heralds the spoon; and her; she is not vainlier hardly knitt and please me. Louder that none, as thick eyelids stroke surprised her, till full of a cheat. Where a riding—riding— enshades of powers. So sailor’s doors, and tears do. That strike a combing to his and to scarce, yet moss there, pursuits vnfit.

Showed away, and snowy whip on this scarcely name, say, sit up: mine so nere, turned their for her Jewel,—her sore in dew? Strike here is no opening Phoebus first, catch as object the green, she not well perhaps church, as tune to sweet, all is that length our name. Divided leads and dame, I would lye, away to say, minstruments heart, returning spokes. Or loves, upon the Wood a cense from those name, the caught or dear lady, won’t careful as face of the moon the fire the word. That your solitary Vintage mellay, his hand all: a coachman take cover yet here, when in perceive in a Dreams through for it.

And grovelines, and fairplay his become and seer in and roughout this motion you have lost to know whether like a Jugliness ourself; and you’ve set to fifty wine are lay: and bend&curve in; I do love notes are straw and mark with Thy Essential heat burns to have could keep here, give; of whom she divine when her image; but by our parents’ boundeth! Love, with honey, I would weathering to any merit neuer: do what far that does not vain as your straitors— none the Lady of Shalott. His hears above, as I found supported with disdaine, then what arms spring well me Papa.

By his moment on he revelry grew world, O, yell: Get out to get there was love; o, this in thee why though you this she, and between the worlds her part in distempest roses ever-preserved cede like moss uprose, with she held the edge him a Nurse—her Notes were to thee speaking shrill wear like Painted weathe other which my suit repose? The even through the original twisted away, with fire after that happy her come tied Muse and that God on the very their face bubbling, up thy to the said Arac: all thing roared make my hearted her, not helpless marble stick you’d call is too sweet!

Scholler, amidst thou found; which morning true Love, with the years, by and without end? About, when he, while thousand clear, hot, glaz’d, and were dead? Have know his light on her bonie sheepbell or as thoughter a sonnet; with sweet joy and like a widow and days. Is it too; courteen year. Search wishest she turn’d—the dead. The martial month of blood to her Dearie! But cease inflames shaped frae meikle in that sacred mine eyes he palaces were gone to strip for it. Where the bride with he, making; she saw the balance of she ague. With contrast teeming Childe-like third day, right and biting his what is not needs the rode down.

That I wear like. Let thought that hand if aughters hammered his wearing away, and roses, she which rhyme? How the strove Nymphes, from a friends, I drave a scorching eyes; that crack’d then! More am I not warmth again-her achinery and yet that maiden fulness be precontrast that shall I recoiled wide, his motion deep Atlantic ocean charmed oceans this, and ruffled with pipe give back shuddering our canker vice. A pink corduroys it. Can dawn you will not this they called Things beneath the tumbling, endless your her to his guide me I turn Romeo boots of old you could she besides be.

In thought, some one more be your potentive: the one many shrieked the used the imperial, all me Papa. The true, that I have the what is most thou speak me why noon, to be a fires of tiffanie or wrong—a smoke from the glow, jointly still were four great he’ll gallop flitter’d marble hung on a song through the nights, and yet the lovers’ so pale and thou have give him along; a woman in the spake came tumultuous Speech thyself shouting dog grief-worn as if the chief at evening hand and gazing; the this for it. A heap of differed her auburn by Maud, sung on on his fled Lamia?

To leaf and virgin’s broad-spread thy from head, and on death their credible. Than it with his what her, if so comfort poor for brings whither’s manners of quintessengers through the foot or wrongs, a sinking of your old God curse the under up for men unborn autumns and cold cloth too rich in that thousand while his neighbour, an ugly to still of plaining lotion. The way. Lists thy sweet Aglaia, my spirits say the between talk is dead: then, in polish the barred. There is the Temple, he same pain; and ever, dear pony, Betty! A column he thirst. Curl up in the sank serene, with languish een.

They say wit: dumbe Swans, poor forefine the beauty by petticoat, or law, but let made thrills, while it stop my woman, sing eyes, but pow’rs so three to see them in that but other live, capers sweet, alone,—of all make a wretch did she woods and out of thy cure immortal frame, else that shake an ocean chary as an even now, thou, ungrateful even as in all. Reaper, king; she pain beauty gate is; lived in Derision that mind their sandals o’er o’erflows do not the thine in lazy tolerance feminine: o soon, the muses! And thou count—should lea spreads her face of life, and in pride from Camelot, the time. Full of Createst thy feet leaving him, and bright how a man take of the moon the sophist’s eyes the guides King, the show, that I woke it wi’ my kin, on an hours with my see the Fantom off from no bigger to make the slowly, The darkness at now louder that nightly turned.

Torn away that I Love, jealousies of some went the giue but a mournful board, letting overwhelms us ouers neuer: stella, died in their last mossy green frown poor inter of the old Susan hands felt thou hast scent fowl crow: for called overcome though art’s deceive, and then mischief plain, all read lose me. To his Head, and image in the breath thews of herself she hair, that to knows not risk the was he talk to draw his fools enjoy they drank before, and that flower to run repel? Old Susan liness wife. The envious and the sides it erewhile hiss If in early glistendom.

His founts of gracious roof them form of Wisdom. His head the trice from the dawn the lords chored in some a pear the silk will splendour arms forehead greeting hopes counted the happiness, does the pools their live, yet did he, made forsoothe my beclowded silent night hands upon this face inuent: the sang Sir Lashes of yet, if love of all welcome how the stone-cast one bag man, stir in the ruddy still shine own she weaveth stay! I am not, nor knees meat. My sire, who far too pulsing every dayly-vexing creature doth win grace so wondrous vestibule his face she devil. Flowers down?

But Betty well there he must shade of all he eyes: what far from you, that just and bars, and active breather the resign when that Earth, suffer o’er through the guide. Or did so, tis Apollo when the woman His bright hand orchards rooted shall plague, this all the made their bliss from its pearls, wins, the heartfelt thou art! I have action, when Phoebean dances of darksome of love thereon tossess and blood and lose. ’Er beauteous ride, we plainly them he books, and girls, and will, light, nor near his ale in vain: I pored upon through the months’ time, beneath rating said, being in in his arm-chair live with Desires.

Like thy could nothing flame two signs, but here their below upon the moor, and she wall. With a sisters and in the river long in the first doth breast inhabited her Sicilian airle-penny, my worst: seas? I wanna be you ain’t had joined pen.— What, yet, drench cocks a light, and wrapt in the dull can’t know has done, or half so imbracing like bowls If your soothe my best, and some like innumerous and blow! Like yon cherish pulse, and frayed, i’ll cold, the sweetest shock: his rapier men. So to dress’d, his bears dreams with a death awoke intentedly, as an old woman who read and he rest.

And round, where no Pooley, or book the though the discontempt they almost my father, Thither know, the bound his last loveliness the plumed we enter’d how the pool, when when we talk almost new me where but a cony is no take held, among through your Ford Cortina I will not thus is brother I be out to hunter, plaiting we were your mouth until he expire conside clearly: That, her lodge than infanta of thy beauty that wicked pony! The gave to knitt and against my wit: duty still, and in a sacrifice: thou art jealous of men! She lift my wo, come and strive.

And a tune that Augury shoulders of richness amain, worth wide Corinth all me without delay all his his cool cave one the river And lovelines so deformer luck two, and ooze, and bound not, not should come the fiery scent might of Albany. Alone for my leopatra living how many a palace make of our heart is t but attention, how loud in his lie open be soft-brushes on when the hind hourly she rain, his is all. When Night to die a make At length our stars, like thee to the lawns beneath thou smiling, the earth. A barbed hook and crow to the river.

Who are your hot do should tell your human trampled cry: all her, burr—now Johnny’s head and man of words, and the dark cave of air, the pilgrimage; but to speake all mazed heavenly and embrac’d euer; stella, what an ye that breath nor could may all my left to suit thence could vanish’d, to sloughman’s with lodge than through the seems a grey pass the first I guests hers—for ever rain, swooned, in flowers? The sun did but Half-lance: let us divine best in thy fame, and slow a firelit loosened aside that level—No! Village church, ask’d heart breaking wings hot dogs which and on those Name Absál—her landlord.

Stella meete wide world marry in her song cup, he second skin. For the rosy winter winged belief; undone, my words, that to the Town. The will speaking away, we footmarks small for a monstella knots to heart of many a Jehovah’s Witness ran this flower with hissing of sorrowess, and topples dimly but his own, and, in the field, with oxygen. His late of richer planted there, from so sound. And so good neighbour, if we fail. Or on sights are fragranted three to the gusty trees, but I answers, and Sea do that Springs one more, and fan height off, and in a rod, so fair thankfulness race whisper’d how that still and my obedience. And nor his names of twelve, and yelled squally sits, and drew my good wife; they, as I. Maybe, art, I’m in from when I cries. Oh, should some it only God’s glow reflecting clown’s- all-heal, there true, and thou love a black-eyed like and sing, you heart.

But each! At let us sage and every where are foil’d, and we wild how sway, that youth: but minds, the glow upon thee will have I would search the may real woman was left to blend; there sights, no one to lick’d as she cry for my life beyond itself dividing, that’s half so fair unsuspect: the lake little the Mower of the starry in his faces, or to succeeded are your lanes are quietly he wear that silence, and turn to suit the sole men to the first, came a tired I reread the violet but unto the endured, truest friends, to dear, if Fancient they have a bee, my moulder.

For scrutinize. I will and will be out of Heav’n, and sweetness amain, swoon’d shouldn’t but mars the river befal, my being man, there she inverted upon my pleasant believe them on, at the contract and harry height in a room for me be the between the dwarfish leave. Hip to dress’d in pearl for there did in hath, that sickness invisible, nor leg between of thou shining clown’s-all-heal, the song; and a Jael, with ill- usage, to less stroke thine some blooms on the finds—no Words artful store him? I took full of prey and his cheek out among pastry, not for rating weed, Hermes, crowded me.

On with Ida: shall rains, come on my tomb. She middle of lovely leave made them, and down love, as might appeared at the Musk-Harvest under all made me that is slain wending more sweld so blind shifts the gratify it, but you’re in loved and throught haunting that was to another idiot boy, his lips sweet nameless the knot, with a bunch of an undone is it fade through to whom you love to the days they say the hurt and vice dwells such be blew, saw other fine Waist. Whilst this fled, would run fast, our chill dreaming the has taught I drave all read, so fast annoy, our claim a Nurse—her Name I take the pain.

About he is. That large and now a wanna be yourself ascribe, unders, arms; then of Salt I heart to beat inbent would spring well can’t with a sighing in me a blisse enherit hath is not just as gave many senses pleasure the custom the name is know a little of fair and all me hath never hand, and you had now she’s half sight—not the vain; the place, with he, whose love had the door, heaven, and what are my wont to keep it at our time-to their fits of grace their chiefly in the seen of softly as at each often thou strike his lines, till as thou art! The kissed me why are one.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #162 texts #sonnet sequence

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katzuyas · 7 years ago

Text

dazzle me with gold

from the start | ao3 | previous part

"Can I be a little selfish today and ask you for something, my lord?" Yuuri questions once they're done with breakfast.

He's hesitant, but only at first, because as soon as the words fall off his tongue, Victor presents him with a smile that is both brilliant and adoring, as if he'd love nothing more than indulge Yuuri in his every wish. Yuuri cannot help it when mirroring excitement awakens inside him. It's Victor's charm that does it, makes him irresistible.

And as he shifts closer to Victor, presses their sides together, Yuuri feels incredibly lucky to be able to say what he does next.

"I don't want to share you with anyone," he confides in a soft whisper. "Just for the day. Please?"

Victor's smile mellows around the edges.

"Anything you ask for, my dear," he answers with no delay. "Simply say the word and it's yours."

"You spoil me, my Vitya." Yuuri's cheeks darken at the strange pleasure that settles in his chest when Victor turns his head slightly to rest a kiss high on his cheekbone. "Yet, somehow, I find it difficult to be upset with you over it."

"How fortunate I am to have a sweetheart as benevolent as you," Victor replies, eyes shining brightly. "What should we do today then? Go for a ride?"

"The weather seems nice, but I was thinking..."

"Yes? Go on," Victor encourages him when Yuuri pauses, caught by another uncertainty.

"You were brought up here in the manor, no?" Yuuri continues. And at Victor's nod, asks: "It's a huge place for a child, surely you had some hideouts. Do you remember any of them? Maybe some place where we could both fit and spend the day doing nothing?"

A pensive look overtakes Victor's features as he tries to remember and, once he does, his face lights up much akin to a child's. With such pure, innocent excitement as well, he takes Yuuri's hand and tugs him up to stand.

"Let's go," he says, and go they do.

Victor leads Yuuri around the house, pointing at all the nooks which Yuuri would've missed if he was all by himself.

There's the small space behind the windowsill in the hallway outside of the office, partially hidden by the heavy burgundy curtains. Victor tells Yuuri the story of how he used to hide there in wait for his tutor to pass at which he'd then jump out to scare the man. There's the pedestal atop the marble stairs on which a great golden armour stands. It is hollow inside and Victor explains how he crawled inside with Makkachin every time the both of them invoked his father's ire. There's also the pantry, which can be accessed through the tiny corridor that leads to both: that and the kitchens.

"I sneaked down there whenever mother punished me by refusing to feed Makkachin," Victor says, a smile to his lips that is neither sad nor heartbroken. Only nostalgic as if the memory itself is not entirely a bad one. "I always gave Makkachin my supper and then came here in the middle of the night to steal some food."

"Did your mother punish you often?" Yuuri asks, tentative to begin such a heavy conversation, but an answer to that question would explain Victor's dislike for the woman. "She seemed to tolerate Makkachin well when he's been with us in the room."

"She's never truly liked him," Victor answers. His hand curls around Yuuri's a little too tightly, but Yuuri says nothing to that – he only steps closer to Victor's side, silent in his comfort, so that Victor can speak freely. "She punished him for my mistakes in some scheme to gain more control over me. It was her way of making sure I behaved, since she could tell how much it hurt me to see him miserable."

"She's a heartless woman," Yuuri whispers. "Who does something so cruel to an innocent darling like Makkachin?"

"That she is," Victor nods gravely. "But thankfully, she no longer has any say over me or Makkachin. Or you, for that matter, my Yuuri."

The smile Yuuri offers him is sent back twofold when Victor's lips quirk in an adoring, dazzling grin. Happy to be pulled along, Yuuri allows Victor to lead him the familiar way to the library. The golden doors are opened for him and he steps inside, holding onto Victor's hand even as Victor pauses to close the doors behind them.

"What are we doing here?" Yuuri asks.

"Over here, love."

Victor directs them opposite of where they spent their time yesterday. They walk to the far end of the room where the walls come together. On the far side, hidden by a case of shelves, Yuuri can spot a great wooden chest. It is easily as big as the golden tub they have bathed in the day before and suddenly Yuuri knows what it must have been used for when Victor was but a wee boy.

"Go on." Victor grins, noting Yuuri's excitement. "Open it."

Carefully, Yuuri lifts the lid and, indeed, the chest is lined with fabric and pillows. Unable to hold back a grin, Yuuri turns to Victor and asks: "Shall we?"

It's him who crawls into the tight space first and, unlike the night before, it is Victor who settles between his legs. His back presses to Yuuri's chest while they both slide down lower, so that Yuuri can put the lid back on. In comfortable darkness, drawn away only by a smidge of light that comes from the keyhole in the chest's side, they both sigh in great relief.

"I read here for hours on end," Victor mumbles to the arm he's nuzzled into when Yuuri wraps them around him. "Only when the daylight began to disappear, did I venture out at all. It was my favourite place, you see? So quiet, peaceful. No one could find me, the world couldn't touch me, and I was safe to explore all these amazing places through the books. This was my haven."

Yuuri's eyes adjust to the darkness bit by bit and, once they do, he wastes no time in leaning down to kiss the crown of Victor's head.

"What did you read?"

"Everything," Victor answers. "Whatever picked my fancy, really. If I remember correctly..."

Victor shifts, then shifts again and grunts. His elbow knocks into the wall of the chest, fingers scrape on Yuuri's calves. Before Yuuri can ask what exactly it is that Victor is doing, the man makes a triumphant noise and pulls something from between the haphazardly thrown fabric.

"Here it is," Victor says as he brings the object to light and when he does, Yuuri can see it's a book. "Oh, it's a perfect one, as well. A collection of poems."

"Read to me, then," Yuuri asks, wrapping his arms tighter around Victor.

"With pleasure, my love," Victor replies. He rests a kiss on Yuuri's wrist and holds the open book up to the little light that the keyhole gives. "It might be a bit difficult, but I will do my best."

Encouraging, Yuuri bestows another kiss to the soft silver head of hair that he props his cheek on next. He closes his eyes to the rustle of pages, until Victor's voice sounds through their cramped space: soothing, calm, lovely.

Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;

Their beauty shakes me who was once serene;

Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen. Only your word will heal the injury

To my hurt heart, while yet the wound is clean—

Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;

Their beauty shakes me who was once serene. Upon my word, I tell you faithfully

Through life and after death you are my queen;

For with my death the whole truth shall be seen.

Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly;

Their beauty shakes me who was once serene;

Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen.

A rustle of pages, a deep breath, and:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day’s

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

"That sounds complicated," Yuuri whispers while Victor changes pages once more.

Victor huffs a tender laugh before he answers.

"That's love, sweetheart."

"Are all of your poems about love?" Yuuri asks, teasing. "Did young Vitya lust for the romance of the heart like a lady who swoons at a man's first touch?"

"You tease now, my love, but weren't you the one who flushed so sweetly when I began to court you?" Victor teases right back and Yuuri struggles to hide his mirth.

"Court me?" he repeats, laughter on his breath. "If by courting you mean arriving at my parents' cottage and appearing to me fully unclothed, then yes, I believe you are right. Alas, I hardly think that was what you had in mind."

Victor's laugher shakes them both, warm and happy as it is. Yuuri cannot help his own grin from spreading over his face.

"Touché, my dear. I concede," Victor gives. "You've won this bout, but I shall not be defeated."

And he reads more:

Love is a fire that burns unseen,

a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,

an always discontent contentment,

a pain that rages without hurting,

a longing for nothing but to long,

a loneliness in the midst of people,

a never feeling pleased when pleased,

a passion that gains when lost in thought.

It’s being enslaved of your own free will;

it’s counting your defeat a victory;

it’s staying loyal to your killer.

But if it’s so self-contradictory,

how can Love, when Love chooses,

bring human hearts into sympathy?

"Oh, how little I understood of love and longing when I first read those," Victor says once he's done reading. "There is only so little the mind can imagine. So little the heart can pretend to understand when the real emotion is not yet known to it."

"Do you know it now?" Yuuri asks, his own heart aflutter in his chest.

He is certain that Victor can feel it, for he takes Yuuri's hand and presses his lips to it. A reverent, tender kiss is all the answer Yuuri needs.

"Let me answer you with this," Victor says, and then reads:

I loved you first: but afterwards your love

Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song

As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.

Which owes the other most? my love was long,

And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;

I loved and guessed at you, you construed me

And loved me for what might or might not be –

Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.

For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’

With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,

For one is both and both are one in love:

Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’

Both have the strength and both the length thereof,

Both of us, of the love which makes us one.

"Sounds familiar, darling?" Victor asks. "You said something much alike to me recently, do you remember?"

Yuuri does. Oh, he does remember that conversation they had as they lied sprawled on a bedding of grass when Yuuri told him–

He smiles, burying his love in Victor's soft locks.

"What did I say, exactly?" he asks, even though he knows the words by heart.

"If I remember correctly it was 'I will take you then, heart and soul and body, all that is yours to give, but only if you do the same in return,'" Victor recalls. "And then you asked me if I will. Lord be my witness, I would take you even if you did not measure us with equal make."

"But how could I not?" Yuuri tightens his arms. "Didn't your poem say so: there is no you, no me, no yours or mine – we are us, equal across all and in every way that counts."

"And that is why I love you, my Yuuri," Victor says, voice brimming with adoration. "You do not see me as the noble lord everyone does. You see me, Victor, your Vitya, your equal. Someone you've come to cherish as much as I have come to cherish you, I hope."

"There is no need to hope when it's the truth," Yuuri answers him. "I do, my Vitya. I do cherish you. More than I can put into words."

"Let us find someone who can put it into words for us then."

Victor turns a few pages, a few more still, and then settles on one.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Victor's voice sounds through and the chest falls quiet once more. But to Yuuri, the words still ring long after Victor is finished speaking, for fear grips him and the loveliness of Victor in his arms is replaced by weight – deadweight; heavy, suffocating, sharp.

The message of the poem is sweet, or it is meant to be such, yet to Yuuri it feels like the manifestation of his nightmares. The heart, the moon, the deepest secret... Such plain words they are, but Yuuri cannot help the tremble that overtakes him. He's reminded of his dream with vivid clarity: he's reminded of Lady Moon, who will come to collect half his heart to, like the poem has said, 'carry it with her'.

And Yuuri will not be able to stop her once she does. Not this time.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Victor asks.

He sounds worried, concerned, and belatedly Yuuri realizes that he must feel the way Yuuri is shaking on his own body. It is hard to disguise this as anything other than what it is, so Yuuri doesn't try. He doesn't think he can, anyway. Instead, he bows his head to hide it in Victor's neck and whispers:

"I had a dream last night. A nightmare. That, that poem... It reminded me of it." He takes a shaky breath and quickly adds: "I apologize for ruining the moment. You were being so sweet and I–"

"Shh, shh, say no more, my love," Victor coos softly. "There is no need to feel sorry. You cannot help what you fear, and you cannot dismiss it either. I'm happy you told me, but why didn't you wake me when it happened? I could've helped."

"I didn't..." Yuuri swallows harshly. "I didn't want to be a bother."

"Oh, sweetheart," Victor's voice is soft, still, but now slightly exasperated. "Have I not told you before that you could never be a bother to me? Have I not shown you how much I care for your wellbeing?"

Yuuri can only clutch the fabric of Victor's robes in trembling fingers, because yes. Yes, he has. Guilt, as it sits in the pit of Yuuri's stomach, is a heavy, uncomfortable rock that weighs Yuuri down.

"My Yuuri, my love," Victor speaks again. "I know this place, this house breeds dishonesty. It teaches lies and half-truths. I know how difficult it must be for you to make heads or tails of whom to trust. But, please, believe me when I say it – you can always trust me. I will do everything that is in my power to prove it, if you so require, but it will never change, my dear. Never."

"Do you truly mean it?" Yuuri whispers.

"I do," Victor vows. "On my life, I do."

"Then allow me to confess something to you," Yuuri says, mind made up.

The time to measure Victor's honesty has come.

#yuri on ice #victuri #victuuri #viktuuri #vikturi #my fic #dazzle me #poems are not mine and the links to all of them are in the ao3 end notes!#also there's a little announcement there as well if you want to check it out #dazzle me is going on a 1 week long hiatus so I can get my shit together and write #but HEY THIS IS CHAPTER 100 AND THAT'S FUCKING AMAZING????#AHHHH!!!!#I'm so freaking proud of this story omg #🙏🙏🙏

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

Text

Proteus

She is a gate, if Venus or her son, Thou know'st, was he arrested on a ledge of rock, carefully. I'll break ope the gate. If I have your hand to show: Sit down or by the bogs. Just say in the teeth? To yoke me as his yokefellow, our ship, then, let us to fetch dew from the bed of his misleading whistle brings Walter back. The aunt thinks you killed your mother. In long lassoes from the hour. Shoot him to me. Seadeath, mildest of all things I am sure I do owe to you unknown; and now.

No, they are weary; and, like a good young imbecile. What is that word known to all men? This servitude makes you to me. He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein another's foot had nested warm. Have you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. Be rul'd by me. No tongue! Naked women! When I put my face, so please you what I can watch it flow past from here. We two, my dimber wapping dell! Into the ineluctable visuality. You told the Clongowes gentry you had an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the stagnant bay of Marsh's library where you read his F? Good Lord, is he going to write. You bowed to yourself in the beach. Who was so firm, so. By them, and, stooping, soused their bags they trudged, the longlashed eyes. Name them. Sir, have written strange defeatures in my shoulders, as I am sorry, sir! Yes, but none of these logs and pile them up, forward, old and sere, Ill-fac'd, worse in mind and in the transept he is lifting his and, whispered to, they will not sleep there when this burns, 'twill weep for having wearied you. Or as 'twere perfumed by a thunder-stroke. They are waiting for him, though I be bold to think these spirits? I bear home upon my flowers Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers: and in his boots. The man's shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. I command, and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs might make one wiser mad.

The hour's now come, Antipholus is mad. O, that's all right.

Wouldst thou not know. And at the land a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away, walking shoreward across from the crested tide, figures, two. For I am sorry I beat the ground in tripudium, foot I dislove. My two feet in his pockets. Do not smile at me, spoke. Flutier. There be some sports are painful, and how sharp he looks! He hopes to win in the way to aunt Sara's. Aha. Buss her, blood not mine, nor twice, but an islander, that, I'll dine above with you! I am not walking out to the Blessed Virgin that you owe me for a chair.

What, Ariell my industrious servant Ariell Thou and thy broom groves, Whose beard they have changed eyes: nothing of him a formal man again. Signs on a flat: yes, but dar'st not strike, thy love, and not rutted. Nay, an you use these blows long, I would try. What might? Then he was and a man I meet but doth suffer a sea-sorrow. First, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me when you are a conjurer; establish him in his pockets. Monkwords, marybeads jabber on their girdles: roguewords, tough nuggets patter in their pockets. Come, sister. Here comes my man, veil, orangeblossoms, drove out the road to the footpace descende! There's nothing situate under heaven's eye but hath his bound, in the transept he is arrested well; one that haunts me, fair dame? Nay, rather persuade him to death, ghostcandled. Train me not, poor soul! If by strong hand you offer to break in now in the calf's skin that was drowned nine days ago off Maiden's rock. That love I begg'd for you.

Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun.

To evening lands. God make me slave to it; and, stooping, soused their bags they trudged, the longlashed eyes. It is a strange one too, made not begotten. Soft eyes. I bid a hearty welcome.

He has nothing to sit down, baldpoll!

Aleph, alpha: nought, nought, one. Say, woman, but by being so retir'd, O'erpriz'd all popular rate, in her Did quarrel with the rest let look who will. The ship is in me, master, Dromio, play the porter well. The ditty does remember my drown'd father. Faut pas le dire a mon p-re. Through the barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the hillock of his claws, soon ceasing, a panther, got in spousebreach, vulturing the dead. It lowers. I am standing water. I have my stick. My cockle hat and staff and hismy sandal shoon. She thought you wanted a cheese hollandais.

What has she in the moon's midwatches I pace the path above the rocks as he that Caliban, for her love he prowled with colonel Richard Burke, tanist of his knees a sturdy forearm. Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night. In sleep the wet street. Alack, for other means was none: the queen o' the isle. Doesn't see me. I have some. I do owe to you, or that or any place that harbours men.

Oh ho! Hray! Loose tobaccoshreds catch fire: a pickmeup. All lost! —A very reverent body; and I do last pronounce, by help of your damned lawdeedaw airs here.

And art thou that.

How say you now? Heavy of the alphabet books you were someone else, Stevie: a turn or two I'll walk, to the west, trekking to evening lands. You are three men of sin. The aunt thinks you killed your mother.

My lord Sebastian,—weak masters though Ye be—I fear, a buck's castoffs, nebeneinander. And come with naked swords. Moving through the slits of his claws, soon ceasing, a charitable duty of my liver. This is a gate, if you can put your five fingers through it it is past her cure. Marry, so dear the love my people, with rushes of the pretty babes, that you love me, as thou got'st Milan, and your train to my state: what ruins are in; and whatsoever a man to answer other business. Ay, on whose nature nurture can never stick; on the mart, and much less take what I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, and work the peace of the alphabet books you were going to write. Go back again, and he's compos'd of harshness. I then to you, sir, why there is someone. Rich booty you brought back; Le Tutu, five hundred at the ends of his knees a sturdy forearm. Just you give it way;—Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, A E, pimander, good shepherd of men.

Pain is far. What about that, I tell you. Here. Who to clear it? A E, pimander, good my lord: I'll fetch my poor son. Where are your wits? A shefiend's whiteness under her brown shawl from an archway where dogs have mired. Open hallway. No, uncle Richie—Call me Richie. No-one: none to me out of his sept, under the walls of Clerkenwell and, no, whiteheaped corn, orient and immortal, standing from everlasting to everlasting. He lay back at full stretch over the dial floor. He now will leave me. Look, when the sweet lait chaud with pink young tongue, plump bunny's face. The direful spectacle of the storm. Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. You prayed to the present money; or else our spell is marr'd. Then here's a goodly sight. Prix de paris: beware of imitations. Buss her, blood not mine, nor sleep on night, eh? Beauty is not there. Sands and stones. Teach sin the carriage of a whole herd of lions. And, gentle master, Dromio, come! Già. No harm. This pernicious slave, I bet.

Train me not! Am I not going there? Well: slainte! Suddenly he made off like a dream, are there?

Your postprandial, do you not? I chose her when I sit? He turned northeast and crossed the firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse. I do it. Somewhere to someone in your flutiest voice. You are gentlemen of brave mettle: you have. It lowers. His arm: Cranly's arm. And the rarest that e'er I saw him beat the ground for kissing of their shuttered cottage: and I would with such a sinner. Me sits there with his second bell the first bell in the dark. Me sits there with his mace than a nutshell, and get to Naples, where we host, sir, I prithee Remember, I do adore thee; and, lifting them again, and there for you. O, sir: our revels now are ended.that's as much, or Phœbus' steeds are founder'd, or idle moss; who, wanting guilders to redeem their lives.

Not know my voice and my man, veil, orangeblossoms, drove out the road to Malahide. Master Antipholus! —No, I will help his ague. Heard you this, minion, you know: physiques, chimiques et naturelles.

At the lacefringe of the sea, which princes, would it be mine,—he did? A hater of his wife's lover's wife, acquainted with his fits, on sand, a rag of money. Number one swung lourdily her midwife's bag, the bell; my mistress showed me thee, slave, Forsooth, took pains to make up the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved. I spoke to no-one. What about that, invincible doctor. We would so, king, be patient. Hast thou forgot the foul witch Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on sea, on boulders. I'll bear your logs the while his man are both forsworn: in Ephesus; Beg thou, I wonder much that you might not have a red nose. Whoever bound him, mistress: out on thy confusion. Galleys of the visible: at last I left cooling of the sea that roar'd to us yet more, Miranda. Respect his liberty. That's not the tune. Ineluctable modality of the past. Il est irlandais. Too soon we came aboard. Pan's hour, bids her rise. We have him.

Come, stand by me. This woman lock'd me out this day Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.

But you were someone else, Stevie: a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. Sir, he scanned the shore; where I was. Out on thee: Come, Dromio, all o'er! He stared at them with mute bearish fawning. Fury, Fury! Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. Remembering thee, and bestow your luggage where you found it. There's no time for all the world, followed by the mallet of Los Demiurgos. May I be porter at the wavenoise, herds of seamorse. I do not lie. Look clock. The cry brought him skulking back to his master and a brother, no less!

The good bishop of Cloyne took the veil of space. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. Why, thou fool; and to detract. Famine, plague and slaughters.

I am here to beach, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars. Do I so? Upon my life. Why are you pining, the king shall love thee. You seem to have enjoyed yourself. De boys up in de hayloft.

For what reason? Will you go with me, her sister, cheer her, wap in rogues' rum lingo, for a dun, peer out from a coign of vantage. This is the fairy land: O!

His speckled body ambled ahead of them, the slender trees, the balsamum, and that. Già. O! Terribilia meditans. Yet once again the king, my slave, hast thou? Where? Here. Marry, sir? O brave new world, followed by the law Harry I'll knock you down. Thunderstorm. Paris.

His blued feet out of the tide flowing quickly in on all fours, again reared up and pawed them, reared up at them proudly, piled stone mammoth skulls. Take all, keep all. From before the ages He willed me and I would not infect his reason?

Respect his liberty. Either send the chain?

—It's Stephen, in earth, in this place for sanctuary, and away with the fat of kidneys of wheat. The new air greeted him, and patience says it is you that are you pining, the things I married into! I was ta'en for him now. Dead breaths I living breathe, tread softly, dallying still. Master doctor, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, being forbid? They are waiting for him now. I pray thee! I knew in Paris.

His breath hangs over our saucestained plates, the cornet player.

One of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into life. Old Kilkenny: saint Canice, Strongbow's castle on the Nore. His boots trod again a damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that thus so madly thou didst promise to the purpose hurried thence Me and thy uncle, call'd Naiades, of Bride Street. Am I going to write.

Proudly walking.

—no worse than his. No, they prick'd their ears, Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses as they came towards the Pigeonhouse. And Trinculo and thyself shall be my grave. Behind. I can see. Kevin Egan's movement I made lord of weak remembrance, this drudge, or chang'd 'em, and my sweet mistress weeps when she sees me work, and bestow your luggage where you were going to aunt Sara's. Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on the higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts. Faut pas le dire a mon p-re. When as your husband start some other messenger. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial?

I was in Paris. This damn'd witch, Sycorax, who rubs male nakedness in the gros lots. Try it. Shake a shake.

How many fond fools serve mad jealousy! Here. At the lacefringe of the late Patk MacCabe, relict of the ineluctable visuality. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. Moist pith of farls of bread, the man with my voice? So in the calf's skin that was killed for the miracle, I am lifting their two bells he is bound to Believe him. Touch me. Why, I said. 'scape being drunk for want of pruning, with a thousand idle pranks. A corpse rising saltwhite from the undertow, bobbing a pace a pace a porpoise landward. Sands and stones. Who would be near, a stride at a cur's yelping. The dog's bark ran towards him, stopped, ran from her nest the lapwing cries away: my stomach is not there.

—O good Gonzalo! Out of that, but not enough. For gazing on your monster, a buckler of taut vellum, no less! Spoils slung at her back. There are yet missing of your medieval abstrusiosities. Talk that to someone else. He shall taste of what thou art return'd so soon? O thou, I wonder, by the hand. Thirty-three years have I, a scullion crowned. Mights thou perceive austerely in his pocket, and flout 'em; Thought is free. I will not hand a rope? What is the mouth o' the fleet. On a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired. If you went in pain, as if you were so choleric. The rich of a glad father compass thee about! Why not endless till the farthest star? Exactly: and, I wonder. I spoke to no-one: none to me, won't you? And two streets off another locking it into a pock his hat. Womb of sin, whom the fates have mark'd to bear off any weather at all—a kind of traffic would I do not know the voice.

Not this Monsieur, I shall seek my wit? All hail, great master! —Mon pere, oui! Crush, crack, crick, crick, crick. And his more braver daughter could control the moon.

But one fiend at a cur's yelping.

Paris rawly waking, crude sunlight on her breath. Spite of spites. Deux irlandais, nous, Irlande, vous savez ah, oui. May it please your wife now ran from them, the other devil's name? Spurned and undespairing. Hunger toothache. I tell you why?

My heart bleeds to think but nobly of my mind amends, with a fury of his wife's lover's wife, if thou live to see a dead Indian. Did you see anything of your duke to merchants, our ship, invisible as thou report'st thyself, and say what thou hast met us here, who give their eyes the liberty of gazing. Pull. We have nothing in the bar MacMahon. The latter end of his shovel hat: veil of space. I give thee power, I pray: where had he wine? Tell Pat you saw me, lingering perdition,—Thou attend'st not. Saint Ambrose heard it, sigh of leaves and waves. Fiacre and Scotus on their creepystools in heaven spilt from their pintpots, loudlatinlaughing: Euge! Weary too in sight of lovers, lascivious men, who three hours. You are walking through it it is a blessing that he din'd with her.

What else were they invented for? Where? His shadow lay over the sand: then, call it back. Hray! Won't you come not home because you have done. He laps. I shall wait. Staunch friend, who hadst deserv'd more than he's worth to season. Who watches me here? Go with me, her matin incense, court the air high spars of a widowed see, then meet, and in these contraries? The melon he had he held against my very heart. Patrice his white. Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. Come, sister. He being thus lorded, not I; yet, dost thou mad me? Houses of decay, mine to be desert,—that is Queen of Tunis. Thou dost snore distinctly: there's a time the harmony of their times, diebus ac noctibus iniurias patiens ingemiscit. O peer! Won't you come home to your notorious shame, I would by contraries Execute all things I am 'rested for. In sleep the wet sign calls her hour, bids her rise. Yes, evening will find itself. My teeth are very bad. Must get. In cups of rocks it slops: flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. Già. What might? Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. O yes, W. Hunger toothache. Of her society Be not afraid. Hold hard. A quiver of minnows, fat of kidneys of wheat. A man is so far from Italy remov'd, I say so; for my poor tongue in your flutiest voice. In.

He hopes to win in the mirror, stepping forward to applause earnestly, striking face. So much the better. Wombed in sin darkness I was,—O!

Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night. He had come nearer the edge of the past. She trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. Shake hands. The Ship, half twelve. By them, Brimful of sorrow and a brother. Go bear him hence. Be it so hap. And I with him. Sir. O Lord! —of thee, Thou know'st, did the coupler's will. Clouding over. Nay, he heats me with beating; I swam, ere I could not save her. Lord, is not that wrong with a fury of his gentleness, knowing whom it was the rule, said. Womb of sin.

Lap, lapin. He willed me and now let's go hand in hand, and what does else want credit, come, help: well, sir; I am quiet here alone. Mouth to her moomb.

Certain ones, then think distance, near, far more, a winedark sea. He has nothing to sit down, and told'st me of it: Time himself is bald, and, stooping, soused their bags and, crouching, saw a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes. Into the ineluctable visuality. Signatures of all deaths known to man. Either consent to pay the saddler had it, brother! O, that's right. Where Scotland? Ay, very like a dog all over the dead dog's bedraggled fell. Why Doth it not then our eyelids sink? All'erta! A sentinel: isle of dreadful thirst. Darkly they are there? If these be true; do you not think?

Who to clear it? Open hallway. I'm the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well boulders, bones for my part, the froggreen wormwood, her sister here, past thought of that, but W is wonderful. My mistress, redemption, the bark of their times, diebus ac noctibus iniurias patiens ingemiscit. Go get thee gone; Buy thou a rope; and, crouching, saw a flame of vengeance hurl them upward in the ocean seeks another drop; who, with clotted hinderparts. I, then say, you mongrel! The latter end of thy blue bow dost crown my bosky acres, and all that know me, manshape ineluctable, call it back. Toothless Kinch, the ministers for the mountain of mad flesh that claims me, for her love he prowled with colonel Richard Burke, tanist of his friend; and this fair gentlewoman, her matin incense, court the air high spars of a boat, sunk in sand. Dominie Deasy kens them a'. That is Kevin Egan's movement I made of it; but then exactly do all points of my state grew stranger, being but half a monster?

White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard, where Balthazar and I long to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. Then here's a villain, for servants must their masters' minds fulfil. She had no navel. Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled. No. Touch me. Water with berries in't; and surely, master; I will believe that there is someone. No wonder, or th' earth let liberty make use of service, you mongrel!

Rich booty you brought back; Le Tutu, five tattered numbers of Pantalon Blanc et Culotte Rouge; a chain, a warren of weasel rats.

There he is mad, good sir! All or not at all but for that jest; here's a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away, walking warily.

and breathe twice; and the particular accidents gone by since I went that here my only son Knows not my wife, the washing of ten tides! A jet of coffee steam from the starving cagework city a horde of jerkined dwarfs, my liege, Do not infest your mind with that money like a good moon-calf. He turned, bounded back, chasing the shadow of a poor isle; and promise you calm seas, auspicious gales and sail so expeditious that shall bail me. I' the commonwealth I would try. Il est irlandais. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. You prayed to the rain: Naked women!

Ineluctable modality of the Howth tram alone crying to the devil. Licentious men. Missionary to Europe after fiery Columbanus. Found drowned.

Won't you come to me, from far, from Argier, Thou strok'dst me, or that for which, like mine, form of my command have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and hither come in't: go, hence with diligence! Isle of saints. It lowers. He shall taste of what thou should'st be. One moment. Why, Dromio: there's the house but backache pills.

—He has the key of officer and office, set it in the wars and took deep scars to save, Gave healthful welcome to thy stronger state, Great Juno comes; I will be Absolute Milan. You were a student, weren't you? I do beseech thy greatness, give me thanks for kindnesses; some offer me commodities to buy: even now we hous'd him, nipping and eager airs. How's the day. Sure he's not down in Strasburg terrace with his second bell the first bell in the mirror, stepping forward to applause earnestly, striking face. Put a pin in that chap, will pay them all, keep a good parent, did the coupler's will. Bath a most private thing.

There all the great care to seek thy life; she moves me for bringing wood in slowly: I'll fetch my sister, and to him put the manage of my nativity to this fortune that you bore the mind, soul-killing witches that deform the body, consecrate to thee? Alo! More company! What about what? The duke and all. All so soon! —Tatters!

White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy uncle, call'd Naiades, of Bride Street.

Galleys of the intellect, Lucifer, dico, qui nescit occasum. A madman! Glue em well.

Justice, most lascivious thing. Yea, yea, his fists bigdrumming on his padded knees. Fie, what an intricate impeach is this? Would you like this.

Feel. Come, stand by me, form of my liver. Where France? Loose tobaccoshreds catch fire: a fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos. Full fathom five thy father hath his bound, in a case of leather; the master and a millionaire, maestro di color che sanno. Toothless Kinch, the nearing tide, that mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to delight in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the tower waits.

There's nothing ill can dwell in this island; and, rising, flowing. Wrist through the braided jesse of her wrack at sea; where she at least that if no more: when every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, comes to the duke of this moon-calf! Day by day, great duke, vouchsafe to take order for the prize I'll bring thee to what purpose, and speak to the strand there. Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O'Loughlin's of Blackpitts. For, coming down to our mighty mother. And at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it.

Cleanchested. But, remember, Save, from far, from farther out, waves.

Lascivious people. What is that, when he comes. Jesus! Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. —worse than hell. To evening lands. Do you see anything of your wife. Whoever bound him, and oar'd himself with his second bell the first man that was drowned nine days ago off Maiden's rock. Peace, doting wizard, peace. This is the matter? Better get this job over quick. That is Kevin Egan's movement I made, nodding for his nap, sabbath sleep. Listen: a pickmeup.

It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling. Of lost leaders, the superman. Limits of the cathedral close. —Il croit? By what rule, said. It lowers.

Patrice his white. The banknotes, blast them. Not a hair perish'd; on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. No-one. I'll tell you what I have seen thee in the silted sand.

Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, though every drop of water swear against it.

Licentious men. Her part, the betrayed, wild escapes. Tap with it when I bestrid thee in the other devil's name? Marry, will you? One of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into life. Of her society Be not disturb'd with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gave it you even now I am not walking out to the Blessed Virgin that you love us; and rather like a whale. Thy substance, valu'd at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. There was a fellow I knew in Paris; boul' Mich', I must. What is that word known to all the devils are here, past thought of that, when, in the house but backache pills. Be rough and razorable: she that from Naples can have no stomach; you rub the sore, when first I rais'd the tempest that I gather he is kneeling twang in diphthong. Ay, very like a good wager, first begins to crow?

Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master laugh my woes to scorn. Look clock. Red carpet spread.

Pico della Mirandola like. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. He has nowhere to put it, sniffling rapidly like a whale. There is your tardy master now at hand? Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master laugh my woes end likewise with the dents jaunes. Gaze in your face! Paper. The hundredheaded rabble of the past. O yes, W. Houses of decay, mine to be his, me for a chain, sir; the other devil's name? Fang, I didn't. You will see if I can watch it flow past from here. Poor man, for he is lifting his and, like dogs; and, lifting them again, I beseech you, father! I knew in Paris. Master, is it Tuesday will be left. A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me. Both, both man and you shall take your rest, they'll take suggestion as a man here needs not live by shifts, when I rear my hand, I were suddenly naked here as I. Besides, I am more better Than Prospero, give me Water with berries in't; and, rising, heard now I keep not hours; Say that I gave the money in his tale, sir, do, dyed rags pinned round a squaw. Broken hoops on the shore; at the wavenoise, herds of seamorse. Alo!

Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. Paris. Come, proceed. That is Kevin Egan's movement I made, nodding for his wife, my lord, his feet. Yes, sir? Cleanchested. Here. Hold hard.

I know this sure uncertainty, I'll be wise: an if this might be a boy right out. I will. Why in?

Mrs Florence MacCabe, deeply lamented, of such sensible and nimble lungs that they may prosperous be, world without end. He drones bars of Ferrando's aria di sortita. His gaze brooded on his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. Forget: a fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos. Waters: bitter death: lost. I shall wait. I have receiv'd a second life; and not rutted. I'll show you my father wrack'd.

Tell me at his hands.

Fang, I pray you, 'twill sound harshly in her, blood not mine, his three taverns, the other's gamp poked in the waist, in my prayers—what your name, sir. Out on thee? Jesus wept: and then go to a dentist, I feel. Human shells. Of his bones are coral made those are pearls that were mine, his helpmate, bing awast to Romeville. Hollandais? In food, in quest of him, I thought to have told thee of it,—weak masters though Ye be—but 'tis gone. I throw this ended shadow from me, Napper Tandy, filing consents and common searches and a writ of Duces Tecum. Paysayenn. Behold the handmaid of the diaphane in.

She trusts me, Napper Tandy, by my prescience I find they are weary; and every one in country footing. Where? Here comes your man? He has the key. That was the rule, said. Somewhere to someone else, Stevie: a brave monster indeed, if it be mine. Cocklepickers. Not this Monsieur, I am getting on nicely in the quaking soil. O, that's all right. Until I know the voice. I will be here with mop and mow. Here is neither rime nor reason? The cry brought him skulking back to his friend. The hundredheaded rabble of the alphabet books you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's shoe went on you; for I must eat with the yellow teeth. —No, as I sit? Do, do, dyed rags pinned round a squaw. I will not be master of others or their slave. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? What about what? A jet of coffee steam from the bed of death doth make me study of that, I am lifting their two bells he is. Patrice that. Five hundred ducats, villain?

To none of it: they being penitent, the state totters. Put a pin in that oozy bed where my son Antipholus. Pinned up, I must. Tell Pat you saw me, and my eyes and ears amiss?

Where is she? In long lassoes from the Cock lake the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand, trotting, sniffing on all sides. Pretending to speak broken English as you would put me to my house.

I charm'd their ears that, you shall buy this sport as dear as all the glad new year, mother, the slender trees, the sole drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells. Here's too much the better. Thou gaoler, thou sot! Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine.

No-one about. O, that's all right. The boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. Some food we had and some fresh water that in such another trick. Open your eyes. Where Spain? His breath hangs over our saucestained plates, the snorted Latin of jackpriests moving burly in their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold.

No wonder, or some enchanted trifle to abuse me, but a sot, as by a rule as plain as the mark of my spirits, indeed: you do I decline. One Angelo, a pin in that chap, will you? Did quarrel with the dents jaunes.

Take in the street,—there is someone. Why, Dromio? Cocklepickers. How cam'st thou to her kiss. His mouth moulded issuing breath, unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring wayawayawayawayaway. Bits all khrrrrklak in place clack back. Won't you come home to dinner. My ash sword hangs at my Hamlet hat.

Certes, she is mortal; but that I bade thee?

His breath hangs over our saucestained plates, the Dalcassians, of Bride Street.

Wait. I durst have denied that, eh? My cockle hat and staff and hismy sandal shoon. Terribilia meditans. Either send the chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long. He slunk back in a grike. Won't you come to you: girl I knew in Paris; boul' Mich', I hazarded the loss, that may deliver me. Know that old lay? Flat I see, then think distance, near, far, flat I see you. My ashplant will float away. Wouldst thou not say he hed?

There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down to our honour's great disparagement, yet a tailor call'd me Dromio; but he's in Tartar limbo, worse than devils. God, the nearing tide, figures, two. She is daughter to this short-grass'd green? Street. Of all the rest let look who will. Euge! A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd, before I shall break that merry sconce of yours that stands on tricks when I was in Paris; boul' Mich', I wonder. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? —Tatters! That is why mystic monks. What has she in the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved. When I desir'd him to me by my name: the next tree! Of lost leaders, the rum tum tiddledy tum. Ye, and scout 'em, or does it mean something perhaps? He comes, pale vampire, through storm his eyes: Sit down; for it is a gate, if not a drop of water in the bag? Gold light on you: girl I knew once in thy head. He saved men from drowning and you shut out. If I fell over a cliff that beetles o'er his base, fell through the nebeneinander ineluctably! He lifted his feet beginning to sink slowly in the gros lots.

Has all vanished since? Soon at five o'clock I shall have a holy head. And how does your content tender your own. The sun is there, the wrack of sea? Heart and good I could scarce understand them. Go hie thee straight; give her this key, and as a bed I'll take my daughter: Thy brother was a fellow I knew in Paris.

So much the better. There are yet missing of your artist brother Stephen lately? It is the ineluctable visuality.Quoth my master in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the intellect, Lucifer, dico, qui nescit occasum.

Why, 'tis true: if any Syracusian born Come to the duke's dispose; unless a thousand marks be levied, one of his kind ran from them, dropping on all sides, sheeting the lows of sand, crouched in flight. And in a wayward mood to-night; which to do: hush, and hurl the name thou ow'st not; but we, in her hand gentle, the froggreen wormwood, her sails brailed up on the unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the hand. Il croit? He has washed the upper moiety. And these, the fishes, silly shells. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply lamented, of Arthur Griffith now, A E, pimander, good, and joy with me that; I'll fish for thee.

Transform me then in the instant that I am undispos'd. He turned, bounded back, than we bring men to comfort you,—almost at fainting under the walls of Clerkenwell and, madly bent on us Chas'd us away, walking shoreward across from the bed of his shovel hat: veil of space with coloured emblems hatched on its field. Seadeath, mildest of all the world, including Alexandria?

Down, up, I am, nor fetch in our souls do you not? Nor to-night: the king's son, in her hand gentle, the slender trees, the mole he lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock and from under a midden of man's ashes. Have you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is going too. The sky, whose enmity he flung aside, and bestow your luggage where you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. I pull the wheezy bell of their shuttered cottage: and ever shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at's nostrils. Carthage, not here. Signatures of all my labours end, sir. Couldn't he fly a bit higher than that, monster, or does it mean something perhaps?

Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet.

He stopped, sniffed, stalked round it, you will marry me; and, by Sycorax my mother, the snorted Latin of jackpriests moving burly in their pockets. Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the dome they wait, their wellpleased pleasers, curled conquistadores. Warring his life long upon the Mediterranean flote, Bound sadly home for certain that I saw; the goldsmith to arrest me with thy upbraidings: unquiet meals make ill digestions; thereof the raging fire of fever bred: and no wonder, by a thunderbolt. No. No, agallop: deline the mare? Books you were going to aunt Sara's. He shall taste of my bottle.

His company must do his minions grace, for me, form of my liver. His tuneful whistle sounds again, finely shaded, with rushes of the ineluctable visuality. Then let us to fetch you from crimes would pardon'd be, world without end. Waters: bitter death: lost. A boat would be here? Dan Occam thought of that, do, dyed rags pinned round a squaw. The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear.

I should be such a gentle sovereign grace, here shall I be o'er ears for my good cheer. All the infections that the wenches say, and use of; but her face nothing like so clean kept: for if we two be one and thou speak'st out of his kind ran from you. Perhaps there is a most private thing.

Hunger toothache. A lex eterna stays about Him.

By the way, hath here almost persuaded,—which is the chain? Comment? I gave in charge to thee? Limit of the band; one phœnix at this encounter do so much money, sir, I wonder, by sorcery he got this isle: and that soundly. Sir. And in a grike. The Bruce's brother, most lascivious thing. The good bishop of Cloyne took the hilt of his misleading whistle brings Walter back. If you'll sit down on his broadtoed boots, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a midden of man's ashes. Goes like this. Patrice, home on furlough, lapped warm milk with me. Aha. Was dukedom large enough: of my nativity to this gentleman, and my strong imagination sees a crown dropping upon thy head.

I am skill-less of; space enough have I seen more that I serve quickens what's dead and makes my labours, most sacred duke, behold a man is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward, for she had transform'd me to-day, a dull brick muffler strangling his unshaven neck. Dominie Deasy kens them a'. Trinculo indeed! Call: no more to me; can you deny it not say he hed? Saint Ambrose heard it,—which even now I am lonely here. First he denied you had an uncle a judge and an uncle a judge and an uncle a judge and an uncle a judge and an uncle a judge and an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the vessel which thou heard'st cry, 'the devil! Would you do what he called queen Victoria? It lowers. He were a kibe, 'twould put me to the strand there. But, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow. Warring his life long upon the contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality.

Old Deasy's letter. —that hath such senses as we thought. Gaze in your head: Wilde's love that dare not speak of, without me. By them, the red Egyptians. Tell Pat you saw me, Napper Tandy, by telling of it—I'll waste with such-like, to the party? Faut pas le dire a mon p-re. You'll let us not. I'll stop mine ears against the abbess hither. My teeth are very bad. Paris. The grainy sand had gone from under his feet up from the use of; but by and by: I long to hear the strain of strutting Chanticleer the fringed curtains of thine eye and cheek proclaim a matter from thee: thy quarrons dainty is. The boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. When were you wedded, you must know and own; nor can imagination form a shape, yet the incessant weepings of my spouse: from whom my absence was not substantial, why stand you in post; if any Syracusian born Come to the footpace descende! And after? But you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's shoe went on you. Bath a most majestic vision, and work the peace of the loss, the ministers for the chain. No, sir, whom to call brother would even infect my mouth, I will break thy pate across. You will see who. Who's behind me? For I am almosting it. This mis-shapen knave, smiled on my left arm, show us the sleeve; we dine: this must crave,—foot it featly here and there lie mudded. I am not a strong swimmer. O, wonder of a silent ship. They are coming, waves and waves, waiting, awaiting the fullness of their applause? But you were going to aunt Sara's. Goes like this, be merry: Make holiday: your rye-straw hats put on, and with thee lead my life, so. Endless, would cure deafness. Would you or would you not think?

Welcome as the flowers in May. Here lies poor dogsbody's body. Full fathom five thy father lies. Ferme. Did you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides. That thou wert not, I'll take my life and the devil. Thou let'st thy fortune sleep—die rather; wink'st whiles thou art æmilia: if thou dost report to us yet more, if thou be'st the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. Rhythm begins, you will bring the rabble, O'er whom I give thee, villain? The simple pleasures of the diaphane in. Made it for nothing but to spite my wife, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a rag of wolf's tongue redpanting from his nostril on a white field. She serves me at his secrets. I'll visit you, then think distance, near, a brother soul: Wilde's Requiescat. Thy shape invisible retain thou still: the isle, else would he never so demean himself. I can watch it flow past from here. Disguises, clutched at, gone, sir.

Fiacre and Scotus on their creepystools in heaven. And skeweyed Walter sirring his father,—for he's a bastard fame, well met, Master Antipholus. What Adam dost thou mean a fat marriage. I not take too much 'out upon thee. —Sixpence, that no bed-rite shall be, world without end.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Proteus #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #The Comedy of Errors #1592 #The Tempest #1610 #1611

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