#directly after elinore's death

[worldbuilder-brainrot]

Big Brother AU

Inexplicably, I had a dream about Pixar’s Brave and now I have a new OC: Hogus, Merida’s older brother. (Thank my dream for the name.) As much as Merida is like Fergus, Hogus is like Elinor. He and Merida get along pretty well, but their parents are kind of the extremes of each other, so it’s a lot harder to connect with them. But Fergus usually lets Hogus slip out of rough-housing when Merida leaps onto his back with a battle cry. And Elinor lets Merida run off and be rowdy more often when Hogus is there and genuinely enjoying her tapestry lessons. Merida still learns proper etiquette, and Hogus still learns how to use a sword, but it’s a lot more bearable and less tense for everyone. Anyway, directly inspired by what I saw in my dream, I wrote a few scenes from when Hogus is 12 and Merida is 8 (about two years before the triplets are born).

[Content Warning: tween death]

As a battle between the clans rages on, Hogus, Merida, and some other kids come riding on horses to spectate from the top of the hill. Merida and the other kids are ensnared by the sight of valiance, but Hogus better understands the gravity of war and death, and though genuinely curious about the battle, his excitement quickly falls into something only meant to mirror the others’.

In the valley, Fergus rides his own horse, slaying down everyone who comes near him. Someone gets in a lucky hit that sends his sword flying out of his hand. His surrounding enemies think they’ve finally got an advantage on him until that same man is stabbed in the gut by a throwing knife, Fergus now wild with the delight of bloodlust. Still, they’re sure he has to run out of throwing knives eventually and close in on him.

The sword landed halfway down the hill, the hilt sticking up in the air as if to summon someone to pick it up. Hogus knows it’s dangerous, but he can’t let his dad get slaughtered. Before he can convince himself otherwise, he charges forward and grabs the sword.

The kids are shocked and start to move closer themselves, but even they are aware that some people don’t come back from the battlefield, and stop before they get too close to danger.

“Dad!” Hogus calls out, waving the sword in the air to get his attention. “Dad!”

But all Fergus sees is someone running at him with a sword. And with an admittedly expert throw, he stabs his own son in the shoulder.

His arm goes limp and he drops the sword.

“Hogus!” Merida screams, immediately snapping Fergus out of it.

The rest of the warriors back off, knowing not to interfere, and the rest of the battlefield gradually comes to a stop.

“Hogus…”

Hogus meets his dad’s eyes, and breaks into tears. He’s not mad or disappointed, he just wants his dad.

Fergus rushes forward, just in time to catch Hogus as he goes limp.

“Dad… I’m sorry…”

“No, no… I’m sorry…” He finally breaks and cries too. “I’m so sorry…”

Back at the castle, Elinor is startled by the front doors slamming open.

“Fergus! What—?” Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of her son. “Hogus…” her eyes fill with tears. She can only watch as he runs past her, yelling for a doctor.

“Mama!” Merida clings to her dress.

“Merida…” She picks her up and hugs her. “What happened? How did…? None of you kids ran into the battlefield, did you?” She wasn’t trying to be accusatory, but she needed to know what happened.

“Only Hogus! But he was just trying to give Dad his sword! And…” She sniffs as more tears start to fall again. “And Dad was throwing knives at his enemies… But then he missed…” She can’t continue and sobs into Elinor’s neck.

She just holds her closer as the horror of what really happened dawns on her and she cries harder too.

Several hours later, Merida nervously waits outside a room.

“Hey, Merida,” her dad finally pokes his head out. He’s exhausted, but smiling. “You can come in now.”

His smile makes her hopeful, so she runs in. “Hogus?” she calls out.

“Hi, Merida,” he waves, smile bright as ever.

“Hogus!” she jumps onto the bed to tightly hug him.

“Ow!” he winces, and Elinor pulls her into her lap.

“Careful,” she gently scolds. “He’s still healing; his shoulder’s a bit sensitive.”

“Oh! Sorry…” she sheepishly apologizes.

“It’s okay,” he smiles. “I’m happy to see you too,” he opens up his good arm.

She beams and carefully crawls around to his other side to hug him.

Days pass, and Hogus hasn’t gotten any better. He’s only gotten much worse.

“Mum…” his voice is weak as he struggles to breathe and his eyes are watery. “I… I think…”

“No… No…” she gently runs a hand through his hair, not able to handle hearing what she already knows.

“… Can Dad come see me now?”

She brushes her thumb over his cheek, “Running the kingdom is not more important than you.”

“It kind of is…”

Her hand falls to his good shoulder. “Not this time.”

She looks to Maudie, who dutifully nods as soon as they make eye contact, then exits the room.

“… I’m sorry to leave you guys like this… I don’t know why the will-o’-the-wisps decided this–” he gestures to his shoulder– “for me, but… I don’t regret saving Dad. I just… I wish he didn’t have to feel guilty about it.”

“He’ll be okay.” She squeezes his hand. “I promise.”

“And you, too?”

“…” She glances at Merida sleeping next to him. “We’ll all be okay.”

Just then, Fergus runs in, a bit out of breath. He relaxes at the sight of his son alive and awake, but the panic in his face, the fear, thinking that he was too late…

Elinor can’t take it anymore and lets her emotions spill down her cheeks.

It makes Hogus lose control, and then Fergus can’t hold himself together either and lifts his family into his arms, waking Merida up.

“Hm… Hogus?” she murmurs blearily. She sees the tear streaks on his face and jolts up, looking around at her parents. “Why’s everyone crying? You’re going to be okay, right? You just got sick like when I did! You’re just going to cough for a bit and then you’ll be okay! You’re not…!” She gives up trying to convince herself, and Hogus hugs her as best he can.

Fergus cries all the more. “I’m so, so sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault; you’re a really good warrior.” He looks up at him. “And a good dad.”

Fergus holds them as close as he can. “I love you, Hogus. I love you so much…”

“I love you too, Dad…”

After a moment, he feels his lung shut down.

“Mum… Merida… I love you, too…”

Merida can only bury herself in her brother’s chest, but Elinor speaks for both of them.

“Oh, my darling, we love you too… We love you, too…”

He squeezes his mom’s hand, presses close to his dad, and hugs Merida tight as best he can. His clothes end up bunched in Merida’s fists, and his parents bury their faces in his hair. They stay together– they stay with him– even after he takes his last breath.

Their grieving period is long– it doesn’t feel long enough– but Fergus finally finds the strength to summon the clan leaders. The meeting is a somber occasion, out of respect. Elinor is present, with Merida nestled in her arms.

“The warring has to stop or our children will be fighting next. And they—” his voice breaks, and he glances at Merida watching him while her head rests on her mom. “They don’t deserve to deal with our issues. … So, men, what are your terms of peace?”

[hangingslothcentral]

Spirit Box Radio is Crowdfunding for Season Two!!

Atmospheric and engaging, Spirit Box Radio is an audio drama which will lull you into a false sense of security before pulling the rug from under your feet. If you loved the creeping sense of unease of The Magnus Archives, the weird whimsy of Welcome to Night Vale and the LGBTQ+ representation of Hello from the Hallowoods, you'll love Spirit Box Radio.

Now launching it's second season, Spirit Box Radio has been shortlisted for a People's Choice Podcast award for Season One. The full cast and original creator are back, and determined to make Season Two even better.

Donate £20 (or equivalent in your currency)

Check out the crowdfunder page

More info under the cut, plus at the bottom a more detailed Image ID than the ALT description has space for!!

Spirit Box Radio is an indie horror audio drama which follows Sam Enfield, the unlikely host of Spirit Box Radio, a show for witches, arcanists, and the magically-inclined. Sam took over the show after the mysterious disappearance of his mother, the Illustrious Madame Marie, a renowned psychic. With no penchant for the Arcane Arts, Sam struggles to find his feet, and as he does, he discovers that Spirit Box Radio may be haunted by something much worse than ghosts: secrets.

Season One followed the mystery of Madame Marie's disappearance and uncovered Sam Enfield's true place in the conspiracy surrounding it. In Season Two, Sam, his sisters - sardonic Kitty and cynical Anna - and his snarky immortal boyfriend will try to unearth the mystery of the Man Who Walks Here and There (AKA The Man in the Flat Cap and Shell Suit, or The King of the Blood Rose Crown) whose many titles are found under almost every stone they turn. It's a story steeped in mystery, horror, trauma and grief, with plenty of softness on the side.

The show is made primarily by its creator, Pippin Eira Major, who wrote, directed and edited every episode in Season One.

Spirit Box Radio wouldn't be possible without the incredible cast of the show. Now 15 Voice Actors strong, the cast of Spirit Box Radio brings to life an array of characters, including; a shady but eloquent florist who cant be trusted; an Ominous Phone Guy; a trio of Inconvenient and malevolent entities; and numerous others.

Just like the characters in the show, our cast is mostly LGBTQ+ and many of us are young and trying to break into the industry. Here's who we are:

Pippin Eira Major (he/they) as Samael Apollo ‘Sam’ Enfield

Jessie Jeffrey (she/her) as Ekaterina Erzabet ‘Kitty the Investigator’ Enfield

Alex Peilober-Richardson (she/her) as Anastasia Morgana ‘Anna’ Enfield

Will Cummings (he/him) as Oliver ‘the Florist’ Boleyn

Billy Bray (he/they) as Scourge

Beca Barton (she/they) as Indi

Tais Grimberg (she/her) as Bliss

Kay Watson (he/she/they) as Ingra

Ellie Ripley (she/they) as ‘the Bog Witch’ Rhytidia Delphus and Stykler Snr.

Daisy Major (she/they) as Regular Caller Beth

Elinor Wood (they/them) as Additional Voice

Gary Major (he/him) as Additional Voice

Mars J Brown (she/them) as Stykler Jnr.

Rose Eke (she/her) as the Mystery Caller

Freya Meldrum (she/her) as Show-Caller Emily

If this crowdfunder is successful, we're also hoping to add five more fantastic VAs to our cast!

Being such a tiny studio, Hanging Sloths can't afford to compensate our cast for their amazing work and provided the amazing performaces you hear in Season One on a voluntary basis. They've all agreed to come back for Season Two on a Profit Share model, where they'll all get a percentage of the money made on this crowdfunder. Here's a handy graphic breaking that down:

Our main priority is to make sure the cast are making something for their hard work on the show. Up to our main goal amount, we'll be splitting the money like this:

- 50% towards the actors' profit share (which exludes me, Pippin)

- 25% towards guest writers and directors

- 25% towards other essential costs including hosting the show on Acast.

Our initial goal amount (£2500) has been worked out to make sure everyone (besides Pippin) who is providing acting, directing or writing for the show can be paid an industry standard amount.

If we don't make our full goal, whatever we DO make will be divided up according to the percentages you see above!

Anything made above that will go towards compensating Pippin for his work on the show, too.

A brief personal statement from Pippin on why the payment is being structured this way:

'As creator of the show, it's my main concern that everyone else who provides Voice Acting talent, writing, and directing is priotised for the amazing work they do. If we're able to raise enough that I can start to compensate myself, too, that would be amazing, but the main focus is on raising enough funds for everyone else.'

Please ensure you add your email to your pledge so we can contact you about your rewards!

Any amount - a huge thank you from the entire cast and crew of Spirit Box Radio Season Two! You're helping make indie audio drama happen.

£5.00 - your name in the credits of one of the first episodes of Spirit Box Radio Season Two

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£20.00 - Advanced Edition of the Spirit Box Radio Season Two Official Soundtrack!

£40.00 - All the rewards above, PLUS a copy of the Spirit Box Season One Soundtrack

£50.00 - All the rewards above, PLUS annotated scripts for episode one (on day of episode release)

£100.00 - All the rewards, PLUS a personalised letter from Pippin, creator of the show.

£200.00 - All of the rewards, PLUS a private chat with Pippin (limited to 3) (no you don't have to chat with me directly if you don't wanna!)

£500.00 - All of the rewards, PLUS a producer credit on the show

£3000 - 'HOW NOT TO HOLD A SEANCE' BONUS MINI-SODE

This short, extra episode will be fully sound-scaped and completely finished, and will be set in the gap between Season One and Season Two.

£3500 - 'THE LIFE AND DEATHS OF OLIVER BOLEYN': A DIGITAL COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES

A digital collection of short stories penned by show creator Pippin Eira Major, telling tales from the as-yet mysterious past of the immortal florist, Oliver Boleyn. Amongst these tales will be stories from his time at the palace of Versailles, a chance meeting with a renowned poet which may or may not have led to the creation of a certain book about a particular cursed painting, and a perilous voyage at sea.

£4000 - 'RHYTIDIA HOSTS THE SHOW' BONUS MINI-SODE NO.2.

In this bonus Mini-Sode where Rhytidia Delphus (voiced by the spectacular Ripley) will host an episode of the Enlightenment Segment (or so she thinks).

£4500 - MUSICAL MINI-SODE

A short, bonus musical episode of Spirit Box Radio, with original songs written by Maybe Wednesday and performed by members of the cast of the show.

Donate £20 (or equivalent in your currency)

Check out the crowdfunder page

[IMAGE ID: a square image of the words 'Spirit box radio' glowing in blue, like a neon sign. it's on top of a glowing yellow pentagram, trapped inside a more brightly glowing yelllow circle. behind these, a red splatter of blood. Around the circle, glowing in pale purple, a variety of stars and sparkles around 'Season Two'. Under this image, glowing yellow, it reads 'Crowdfunding now'. The background is deep purple, broken by teal grey constellations and a pair of hands, cradling the neon words from behind. END IMAGE ID] [BANNER IMAGES: Puple backgrounds with pale consetellations and yellow neon caps-locked words as described in the Alt Text]

[werateaudiodrama]

well, unlike previous occasions, i don’t have to immediately dive into production stuff now, so…

Pasithea Powder episode 5: For Your Own Good

“relented and admitted…there probably was a government conspiracy”

that feels like such a ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ way of putting it

the idea that this entire show in-universe is some sort of extended found footage special put together by elinor lopez after the fact and she still included jane shit talking her journalistic integrity is hilarious

elinor lopez in jane’s room like

“josephine crooks, that absolute weirdo”

my desire for jane/josephine political marriage plot + complicated feelings sophie grows by the day

s1 jane: here is the fucked up dangerous surveillance state i’m living in

s1 sophie: here’s some dumb shit i did in basic

also s1 sophie: here are my fucked up recollections of seeing peoples dead body parts in our death-shaped tin cans

also s1 jane: people want to put me in MAKEUP!!!

i choose to believe elinor was wheeled into jane’s room the second time in a giant cake

fuck yooooooooou blanc i wanna hear how that story ended

“anders li would back me up” do it sophie do it jailbreak

given how advanced communication technology must be at this point, it’s amazing to think of how many messages sophie must’ve left to fill up that memory card

also absolutely irrelevant but i imagine all the personal coms devices look like compact mirrors you flip open a la totally spies

real friendship is intimidating david allegros’s gay daughter’s dad’s wife to give someone a smidge more information about her situation

“it would be ideal if you weren’t also threatening children on the recording but - ”

just put it through space audacity for two minutes. snip snip.

“it was for the greater good”

okay but jane’s assailant having the same voice as evelyn in canon

that must’ve made all of that even less fun!

sophie spends a non-insignificant amount of time wondering if she could take cullen in a fight

like i know she probably does these calculations about everyone who’s a threat to her but also we only hear it directly about cullen i think so maybe he just activates maximum animosity

sophie says gaslight gatekeep girlboss

“i woke up in mercy house totally at random once so i think you can say that’s how it generally works for everyone :)”

okay sophie

[beezarre]

Fic title: J'ai cherché un sens à mon existence

I see what you did there!!!! (Thank you!!) Though... my hand kind of... slipped?

*

"Do you like setting yourself a target? Then archery might be for you!"

Serena wasn't sure how the colourful flyer ever ended on her desk, although she suspected a fairly tall Swede. Elinor's death had sent her in the worst downward spiral of her life, and he had been one of the many to support her from the very beginning.

Was she free next Saturday? Actually, yes. Did she fancy attending the 'Beginner Event' one of the local archery clubs offered? She disliked the idea of facing people, but disliked perhaps even more the idea of facing herself, alone, in the dead quiet of the house that had seen her little girl grow.

Come Saturday, equipped with sensible shoes and a barely there fake smile, she introduced herself to the young woman at the sport hall's door.

She'd never thought about what archery entailed past a bow and arrow, never thought about strength and weight, about distances, about protection and safety measures. After being told about the basics, she was given the right material and guided toward the line where other newcomers attempted to reach the targets. They seemed ridiculously close, and ridiculously far, like that recovery she kept letting other people talk about because she had become too tired to stop them.

Her first tries were, to quote the man who'd taught her the movements, 'promising'. She'd explained she had a sometimes unhelpful schedule, been told it didn't matter, given a list of times she could show up and carry on.

The first time she'd stepped into what was a regular training session, newcomers and advanced archers shooting in a neat row at various distances, she had felt overcome by a feeling of otherness, before someone noticed her, briefed her, and soon she was being guided toward a spot from which she could reach one of the closest targets.

It took a good dozen arrows and several times of the string getting caught in her arm guard for her to actually take in the room, the bursts of laughter and conversation in between, and the lady who had her back to her, at the far side of the room. Wheelchair bound with her hair pulled back tightly so it wouldn't get caught in the string, she shot directly at the wall on the other end of the room, where a whole section had been prepared to receive arrows. The target was small, and there was barely any yellow left to be seen, all of it seemingly taken down by very tightly grouped arrows. She learned from the others that her name was Bernie. That she was a quiet one, and that she'd been coming for a couple years. That she was good, good enough that she'd been shortlisted to take part in the next Paralympic games.

Serena hadn't expected the peace she could feel, the moment she started holding the bow in her hand, aligned with the target, alone with her target with the arrow only let loose when it was in alignment with the centre. She progressed more quickly than she'd thought, the bruises disappearing from her arm as she learned to correctly position her elbow, the tension disappearing from the muscles in her back as she got used to the movements. Soon, she was able to be left on her own, a more advanced archer giving her tips now and then when they noticed something askew in her posture. When someone in the club decided to sell their current equipment, she bought it, a freedom from what the club had available for beginners. She came more and more often, silent unless spoken to, focused.

Then one day she and Bernie had ended on the same target, closer than the other woman's usual, further than Serena's, the short side of the hall more populated than usual.

They hadn't talked, not at first. It had taken a few rounds, Serena offering to reach a stray arrow for her as she'd had for others in the past without thinking about it, for her to even hear Bernie's voice. A small thank you, respectful, almost a whisper. A smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. In that moment Serena knew, this was someone she didn't need to fake one with. Shooting next to Bernie made Serena all the more self-conscious about everything she did, aware of the other woman behind her, aware too that the other woman was as focused as she was and she really shouldn't be worried about it.

She stood straighter, her head high but her chin level, the string against her skin a now familiar feeling, stable on her feet, the string taut, her breathing held as she released it. Arrow after arrow, round after round, the cluster of their arrows seemed to merge until they had to extricate them carefully, fingers touching, the contact strangely soothing for Serena after so long of avoiding others, work aside.

"You should think about competing, you've got what it takes." Bernie's voice was low again, but confident this time.

"I'm not here for the points." Serena hadn't thought about it, didn't think it'd fit her schedule, either.

"Neither am I, really. It's just a nice bonus." And she'd smiled, a real one that reached her eyes a little bit.

That's when Serena knew. She wasn't coming for the points, she was there for the inner peace, the clearer targets than her life provided her with, the satisfying sound of the arrow piercing that target. 

And maybe she'd add another reason: getting to know the mysterious blonde a bit better.

[flesymetahiq]

Magic ask for magical characters

God, it’s good that I am subscribed to such great writers who are trying in every possible way to help develop other characters associated with their favorite fandom, live happily <3 Egm, thank you XD

Bad English warning ~w~ I’m really sorry

The questions were constructed by @arcanecadenza, thank you very much again and sorry >w<

1.Magic always comes at a cost… what price does your character have to pay in order to practice it? What kind of trade-offs are involved?

I want to talk about Eleanor, earlier I mentioned that her mother (Akane) came from the Haiko clan, in fact, they were not just cursed magicians who also owned dark magic (of course). The clan leaders concluded in their bodies the energy of that nine-tailed fox-demon which had been killed by their ancestors. And it would seem that this is not a curse at all. But many of them died because their body would simply explode, they could not withstand so much energy, some did not die such a painful death, they turned into monsters, but in their case, it would be better to die at the hands of Haiko magicians.

Haiko Fuji, one of the clan’s leaders, acted quite cunningly, passing with his blood his curse to another group of people (Some of them were Madara and Tsunobi), so his daughter Haiko Akane  got only part of the energy of the nine-tailed.

To use the power of the demon inside you, you must donate your blood. The demon is held at the expense of being marked in the form of red symbols, it is on them that the Haiko magicians make a deep cut, thus giving their blood. After that, many painful transformations take place with their body.

Elinor currently does not use her inherited power, which is called a curse, because she does not even remember about it, nor about her past, which is probably to some extent good for her.Not to say that the marks and symbols on her body do not cause her questions. Of course, Eleanor was very scared to find them on her body after amnesia, but any attempts to connect them with her past and remember ended in loss of consciousness, so she tries to cover them up and not especially go in touch with them.

About the magic associated with the elements.The best, but at the same time the most dangerous source of this power is fire. Wizards specializing in fire magic often gain great strength, but pay for it by dependence on the elements of fire, burns, and sometimes even die in flames, for example.Anyway, magic consumes a lot of energy, which is very difficult to recover, it is also likely to pay for the use of magic. It is also worth mentioning that Elinor, after applying any serious spells, suffers very much later, fainting or migraines

2.“For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” What kind of magic directly opposes that of your character? As in, what kind of magic would complement theirs so perfectly that it would be difficult for either one of them to get the upper hand on the other?

That will sound a little funny. But for example, the complete opposite of the demonic magic of Elinor is white magic. But since it uses just white magic, its opposite is demonic, it can also be clarified that if she possessed demonic magic, she could never use it with the magic of elements.

3.What kind of magic would effectively neutralize that of your character? 

Magic associated with the penetration of consciousness and its control, so Eleanor can not resist.

4.Is their magic more suited to offence or defence? Or is it more versatile? What is it like when used in a fight?

The magic that Elinor uses now is more suitable for defense than for offence,which cannot be said about its demonic side.

Spells that are/were more commonly used in fight.

Fire(more for offence)

🔥Fire ball. A spell in which fire erupts from the mouth in the form of a massive ball of roaring flame.Also associated with this spell, the creation of a small fiery sphere in the hands

🔥Fire trap. With this spell, the enemy is in a circle of flame, which over time begins to narrow.

Water (more for defence)

🌊 Streaming the water:The spell draws water from a source.  In this case, the magician can manipulate it, for example, create large waves, barriers, shapes, whirlpools and so on.

🌳Earth (more for defence)

Eleanor uses only one spell, by.  which creates strong currents of wind, most likely it will be able to repel the enemy or prevent him from approaching

.🍃Wind (more for defence)

Eleanor uses only one spell, which creates strong currents of wind, most likely it will be able to repel the enemy or prevent him from approaching.

Dark Magic spells

Puppeteer(more for offence)

With this spell, contact with the enemy is necessary, for example, you must touch him, after which Elinor forms the threads connecting her hands with the body of the enemy, and gives her full control over his body, making the enemy his puppet.

Devil eyes (more for offence)

With this spell, under a step one big circle is formed, inside of which there are  smaller circles, each circle is crossed out by a small line, once at the intersection points, raised bayonets rarely grow.The circles begin to spin, new points of intersection begin to appear, and hence new bayonets.

5.What are some interesting subsets and/or sub-practices of their magic? Like, what’s something they can or something that other practitioners of the same kind of magic can do that would surprise someone else?

In addition to the magic associated with the elements and demons, Eleanor is very fond of doing all sorts of wonderful tricks.  The most elementary, for example, she can make a dancers  from an ordinary napkin and arrange a whole ball of napkins ladies and gentlemen at some feast, which will be very effective and beautiful.

6.If they have a magical gateway, does their magic shape it? For example, the pool of water in Asra’s oasis and the fact that he travels to it is by way of bodies of water is likely representative of his affinity for water magic.

There are special mirrors that are a portal to Augusay (the kingdom where Elinor herself was born). These mirrors are in the house of the late aunt Elinor, but she still does not know about their existence.

7.Does magic run in their family? Alternatively, if they are an Apprentice, how does their magic compare to that of their aunt?

Aunt  was a rather advanced sorceress; her magic was completely based on the elements of the elements, especially the element of fire was developed.Unlike her brother, Victor (Elinor's father), she owned magic.  I also mentioned several times that Elinor inherited magical abilities from her mother Akane too.

8.How sustainable is their magic? Where do they fall on a sliding scale of getting tired after one spell versus feeling more and more energized the more they cast?

If you do not talk about the dark magic of Elinor, then it is quite stable.  However, depending on the spell.  If this spell (for example) is associated with the creation of large spheres of fire, then the larger the sphere, the greater the likelihood that Elinor will lose consciousness.  If for example the mass of water that Elinor controls is very large, then she will not be able to hold out for too long.What about dark magic, the longer Elinor casts spells, such as the devil's eye or a puppeteer, there will be a chance that she will lose control over herself, otherwise her body will transform into a nine-tailed Demon, more precisely, a seal on her body  will be destroyed.

9.Where does your character’s magical potential come from? Is it inherent? Is it because of some sort of bargain that they struck with an entity/Major or Minor Arcana? Is it a skill that was taught and honed? Is it a combination of things?

I wrote earlier, so the answer will be short.  The magic of Elinor was inherited from her mother as well as the curse of the nine-tailed, about the Haiku clan I already described in questions regarding apprentice 10.If you had to assign an elemental denotation to their magic, what would it be and why? Fire, earth, air, or water?

Fire.Her entire clan had a predisposition to fire (Uchiha lol)

11.What is their relationship with magic like? Is it something they feel blessed to have or is it more of a burden/curse to them?

Eleanor does not know about her demonic power, so her abilities would be a terrible curse for her.  So she believes that this is a great gift that can make the world a better place, so she is trying her best to develop her magical demand.

12.In what ways could they potentially misuse their magic? If you’re not sure of what I mean, just think of how a skilled waterbender could just as easily bloodbend to accomplish their goals/get what they want.

Many options, especially if you take dark magic, the puppeteer’s spell is very suitable for achieving any goals, because with it you gain control over someone else’s body.

13.What school(s) of magic best encompasses that of your character? Abjuration, conjuration, divination, enchantment, evocation, illusion, necromancy, or transmutation? Yes, this is a Dungeons and Dragons question because I’m a nerd and I’m very curious. 

Oh... I think.. Oh.. conjuration probably. 14.What kind of ethics are associated with your character’s practice of their magic? What kind of in-universe laws do you think might exist that pertain to it?

In my opinion, the most important laws regarding magic are the prohibitions on using any ancient forbidden spells, agreements with creatures from other worlds, and the prohibition on using magic outside Hogwarts (just kidding), that is, I mean the prohibition on using magic for the purpose of killing  innocent people (yes my fantasy is as sucks as my English, sorry)

15.If your character was tasked with teaching someone else about their magic, where would they start? What would the learning curve look like for that?

It is difficult to imagine Elinor as a master of (hehe) magic.  To begin with, she would test her apprentice to make sure that he / she would not abuse his magic and spells, whether he / she would use magic for good.  After that, it will be necessary to explain all the dangerous moments associated with magic, its advantages, the minuses of the story and the consequences of its correct and incorrect use and much, much more.

[atths--twice]

Chapter Three  3/9

Vacherie, Louisiana December 15, 2017 10 a.m.

Mulder stepped out of the car, staring at the sight of the Halloween party, the abandoned remains of the church. Yellow police caution tape was fluttering in the breeze, having come loose from a tree it must have been tied around.

“Hmm,” Scully said, closing the passenger door, the case file in her hand. “This place looks like it could fall down at any moment.” He nodded in agreement, his hands on his hips.

“It’s pretty dilapidated.” She nodded and they looked at each other before walking toward the church.

He gathered the caution tape, pulling it from the tree and balling it up. Leaving it on a bush, they walked through the open doorway and into the church.

It was worse inside, the walls crumbling and the ceiling nonexistent in spots. There was litter scattered in the rooms they passed through, not only from the Halloween party, but from obvious recent visitors.

“Seems odd that people would come here after what happened only six weeks ago,” Scully said quietly, looking at the empty chip bags and crushed cans of beer.

“But that’s precisely why they would come out here,” he replied as he looked around. “The draw of the deaths pulls at the curious mind, as macabre as that sounds.”

“Yeah,” Scully agreed, walking to the back of the church and stepping through what used to be a doorway and into the backyard. “Whoa…” He followed her out and they stood on what was once a back porch, but was now a mess of crumbled stones.

“I knew it had a graveyard of course, but damn. The crime scene pictures don’t exactly capture the grand scope of it,” she said as they both looked around. He nodded, the sight of the graveyard having a chilling effect on him.

“So it was here,” she said, stepping down onto the grass and losing her balance a little.

“Careful,” he said, stepping down beside her. “You don’t exactly have the ideal footwear on for this terrain.”

“I’ve been walking into forests with heels on for years, Mulder. I’ll be okay.” She rolled her eyes slightly and he nodded with a raised eyebrow. “As I was saying it was… it was…” She grunted as she tried to pull her heel from the depth of the grass, only succeeding in pulling her foot from her shoe, and lurching forward. He caught her elbow and held onto her, catching her from falling over.

“Oof,” she said, grabbing onto his waist, the case file crushing between them as she hit his chest.

“So, you were saying?” he teased and she laughed before pushing off his chest and looking up at him.

“Shut up and grab my shoe, will you?” She smiled and he laughed softly, squeezing her upper arms gently.

She remained standing on the grass, one foot up, wobbling slightly as he stepped over to pull her shoe from the grass. It took a couple of tries to get the shoe loose, and when he had it in his hand, he wiped off the mud and grass from the heel as he turned around.

She held onto his shoulders as he bent down to slip her shoe back on, his hand holding her calf gently. Her skin was warm and soft and he was unable to stop his mind from remembering kissing that exact spot many times as he had moved even further up her body.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, moving her hands and standing straight, his hand moving down her leg as she did. He took a quick breath, his mind racing as he stood up and nodded silently.

“So… I think I might need to hang back,” she admitted. “My other heel is already stuck.” She smiled with a shrug and he chuckled.

“Probably a good idea then,” he agreed and offered his arm for her to hold onto as she pulled her shoe free and walked back toward the crumbled stone porch.

“I’ll look through the inside again, see if there is anything they, or we missed,” she stated and he nodded as she handed him the file and walked up the stairs.

“I’ll look around out here, sensible shoes and all.”

“Just don’t slip or anything or we’ll both be stuck.” He laughed and winked as she smiled, walking back inside.

Turning around, he put the file under his arm and walked around the graveyard, shaking his head at the large headstones and statues. Opening the file, he looked at the pictures and glanced up to see the exact location where the victims had been found. He walked the area, searching for any evidence that was overlooked, but found nothing.

Standing up, stretching his back, he sighed as he imagined the kids who had died out there, how scared they must have been, the grass high and headstones large. He remembered graveyards in England, in his stupid youth, when the dangerous was alluring and he shook his head.

As he began to make his way back to the church; a particular headstone caught his attention, the writing clearer than others he had seen.

Here lies E i  r Cormier Taken from her beloved husband James on their wedding night Twenty years old The Angels be with you June 1, 1855

He felt a chill as he looked at the only missing letters on the headstone, as though they had been scratched out years and years ago. It seemed out of place within the clarity of the remaining letters.

Turning around, he jumped back and cursed loudly, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

A statue of an angel was directly across from the grave of who he could only assume from the missing letters was Elinor Cormier. It was a large statue, and he was surprised he had not noticed it before. It had its head turned to the side, the eyes downcast. Stepping closer to it, he frowned, noting that it was not an angel, not having any wings, but it was a woman.

He stared more intently and wondered if it had been a statue created in the likeness of Elinor. Her hands were laying atop each other at her breast and she was wearing a long dress. Perhaps it was of Elinor on her wedding day and added far after the headstone as it looked much newer.

In fact it was a lot newer, he thought, reaching out to touch it, when he heard Scully calling his name.

Turning his head, he dropped his hand and sighed. Looking back at it once more, he frowned, the newness of the stone strange to him.

“Coming, Scully,” he called and turned toward the church, curious thoughts niggling in his mind. Keeping the name Elinor Cormier in his head, he made a note to write it down and research it later.

As he walked toward the church, his thoughts busy and his attention pulled from the surroundings, he did not notice the sudden quiet or see the movement behind him. It began to gain ground on him, until it stopped a few feet before the church steps, hiding behind a large headstone, unable to proceed any further, as once again birds chirped and the wind blew through the grass.

_________________

Chalmette, Louisiana 1:30 p.m.

“Well, at least this place will be easier for you to maneuver,” Mulder teased, as they got out of the car and walked up the walkway.

“You’re hilarious,” she quipped back and he shrugged with a smile. “But yeah, this place is in way better shape than the church.”

“Of which I’m thankful, that church was… creepy.”

“Oh you say that about every church,” she teased as they both turned at the sound of a truck pulling up, out of which stepped an older black man in a sheriff’s uniform. He waved with a smile as he walked toward them.

“Y’all the FBI agents?”

“Yeah. Agents Mulder and Scully,” she answered, each of them showing him their badge. He nodded as he looked at them and sighed, reaching out his hand.

“Sheriff Lavonne. Harold Lavonne. Call me Harry. Nice to meet you.” They smiled at him and he put his hands in his pockets. “You been out to the church, I assume.”

“Just before we came here, yeah,” Mulder answered with a nod.

“It’s the damnedest thing the way those kids died. And the ones here. I ain’t never seen anything like it. I’ve been in law enforcement nearly forty years and I…” He shook his head and made to reach in his front shirt pocket and then sighed again. “Hell of a time for me to quit smoking. Again. I still think I’ll find that pack in there.” He chuckled good naturedly and they joined him.

“Well, let’s go take a look around. I got all the information back at the station, but it’s good to get a fresh pair of eyes seeing it for the first time. I know I sent you pictures, but… well, let’s just head in.” They nodded and followed behind him. He lifted the yellow caution tape for Scully and she whispered her thanks.

As soon as Mulder ducked under and into the house, he felt something different than he had at the church. Heavy. Almost dark. It was dark inside, a lot of the windows boarded up, but it was more than that, and he could not quite put his finger on it.

“How many people were at this party?” Scully asked and Harry sighed.

“About forty. Most of them were in the large room at the back of the house, though they had been all over, judging by the mess they left behind. At least they had sense to stay downstairs,” he said, pointing up and they looked at the ceiling, finding large areas of broken floorboards they could see through to the next level of the house.

“Jesus,” Scully breathed, moving away a little, shaking her head.

“Oh, don’t worry, Agent Scully. It’s quite structurally sound, considering. These houses were built differently over a hundred years ago.” He smiled, but Scully did not smile back. He shook his head and motioned for them to follow.

The house was large, with small rooms branching off all over: what was once a large dining room, sitting rooms, a library with many books still on the shelves, dusty and moldy. They walked through a kitchen, the remains of the party still evident and just as at the church, there seemed to be new trash there as well, curiosity getting the best of people.

“This is the room, the ballroom, as was its main use years ago,” Harry said as they walked into a very large room, the windows free of boards and cleaner than any of the other rooms.

“Wow,” Scully breathed, looking at the large room. “Imagine having this, plus all the rest of the house. That’s… wild.”

“Hmm,” Harry hummed, no other response forthcoming.

Mulder walked around, taking in the large fireplace, which was full of ash and trash, and spray painted with graffiti. The floors were dark, and not as dusty as the rest of the house, as it had obviously seen more foot traffic. Many of the windows were broken, large shards of glass lying on the floor, a slight wind blowing into the house. There was an old mirror above the fireplace, the darkened glass surprisingly still intact, considering the state of the rest of the room.

“The kids… well not kids, but you know,” Harry said and Scully smiled at him in understanding. “They’ve been coming here, the church, and a few other places since around the Fourth of July. There’s never been a problem, other than the noise at times and the mess they leave behind.” He looked around and shook his head, reaching again at his front pocket, sighing with a near growl, his hands in fists at his side.

“Is it every weekend?” Scully asked and Harry shook his head.

“No, more of a monthly thing. Someone must be in charge of finding a location and they get the word out to others so they have time to plan.”

They both nodded, Mulder catching her eye as he gestured to the back door, she nodded again and they all headed toward it. The doors themselves were gone, and they ducked under more tape as they stepped into the backyard.

“Do most of these homes have graveyards in the back of them?” Scully asked, as they stepped off the porch and walked along the broken up walkway. She stumbled once and Mulder caught her elbow and she thanked him with a look as he smiled.

“A fair portion of them, yeah. People tended to bury their family members on their property. This home belonged to the Boudreaux family for generations, so there are many of them buried here, along with their spouses.”

Standing in the graveyard, the grass thankfully not as unaccommodating as the church, Harry showed them around the area, where they had found the victims, both dead and alive, once more shaking his head with a heavy sigh.

“That first party, I felt sick nearly the entire time I was there, but this one… this house… The deaths were bad enough, but being here…” He looked back at the house and shook his head again. “These homes, people find them to be grand, destinations for elaborate weddings. But for me… these homes were where my ancestors, or people like my ancestors, were kept. They were slaves, bought and paid for, forced to do all the work, keeping the homes intact and the grounds beautiful, while they lived a life of hell. People speak of ghosts or dark magic… but these grounds, and those like it, that’s where the ghosts lie for me.”

Mulder looked around and nodded with a deep sigh, seeing it through different eyes, something that had not even crossed his mind before it was mentioned. He looked back at Scully and saw her smiling softly at Harry, telling him she understood. He looked at her and nodded as he sighed again.

“I know as a law enforcement agent, I should be above such things…”

“No. You shouldn’t,” Scully said firmly, touching his arm briefly. He smiled at her and Mulder nodded at him.

As they finished up, ready to head to the police station and discuss the case further, Mulder’s attention was drawn to another headstone, just as it had been at the church, giving him pause as Harry and Scully continued walking ahead.

Mary Boudreaux October 31, 1855

He tilted his head, frowning as he read again the no frills epitaph on a nearly 200 year old headstone. The one at the church had been personal and caring. This one by comparison was cold and impersonal, which immediately sparked an interest in him.

“Hey, Sheriff,” he called out, jogging slightly to catch up to them. “You said this was the Boudreaux estate. Do you know anything about a Mary Boudreaux?”

The sheriff turned around, Scully doing the same, frowning at him as they stopped walking and he caught up.

“Mary Boudreaux? Huh… I don’t know the name off the top of my head, but we can check at the station.”

____________________

Hours later, Mulder sighed tiredly as he came into his hotel room, closing the door as he took off his tie. Dropping the files from the station onto the table, he took his clothes off and laid them on a chair before he took a quick shower.

Sitting down at the table as he towel dried his hair, he began to look through everything in the file again. He reread the statements from others at the party, the victims, the officers, doctors, and the coroner. He laid the pictures out, looking at each of them intently in turn, hoping they would speak to him better than the printed words could.

Shaking his head after staring at them and finding nothing new, he started to gather them up when something caught his eye and he paused. Looking closer, he shook his head, looking up and wishing he had a magnifying glass.

In a moment of brilliance, he took a photo with his phone, zooming it up when he had. He looked at the other pictures in the pile, and took some more photos with his phone. Zooming and cropping them, he let out a breath of disbelief.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. Grabbing the file, he quickly walked out the door without putting on his shoes. The courtyard was brightly lit with the Christmas lights, and the ground was cold beneath his feet, as he crossed over to Scully’s door.

Knocking, he waited, bouncing from foot to foot, looking down at his phone, his heart racing that they may be onto something. He heard the door open and he began to speak before raising his head. When he did, he saw her sleepy face and realized how late it had gotten as he reevaluated the evidence.

“Oh… I’m sorry.” he said and they stared at each other. She sighed and raised her eyebrows. “I just… I noticed something and I think it could be important.” She tilted her head and waited. “One of the victims photographed, Becca Thomas, had goosebumps.” He showed her his phone and she squinted at it, looking closer and then raised her eyes to his again.

“It’s not uncommon, Mulder. Rigor mortis can cause many occurrences in a dead body.”

“I know, but look at this.” He handed her photos from Becca’s autopsy. “They’re still there before and during the autopsy. Is that common?” She took the photos from him, looking between them and the ones on his phone.

“I’ve seen this occurrence before, Scully. In Puerto Rico.” He stared at her, knowing she would understand what he meant.

With a tired sigh, she looked up at him and stepped back, allowing him into the room, and closing the door behind him.

[pfenniged]

Can you explain why Anne Elliot is your favourite Austen heroine?

Surely! (This literally took like, two and half hours of writing and editing. What is my life).

Background:

So, essentially, to get into this analysis, I have to preface this with Persuasion being written in 1817, near the end of Austen’s life and published six months after her death. Really, if you compare the type of satirical protagonists she was writing at the beginning of her career (see Northanger Abbey, which convinced my entire English Literature 2 class in university that Austen was insipid despite being prefaced as a gothic parody), to later, Pride and Prejudice, to Persuasion, I think it really traces the development of Austen as a writer (Austen referred to her in one of her letters as “a heroine who is almost too good for me.”)

Not to say she didn’t have more ‘mature’ protagonists early on; Elinor Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility is really my second favourite protagonist from Austen’s works, and she is essentially the one person in the Dashwood household who keeps everything together; without her, the entire operation would fall apart. It’s the reason why she’s the ‘sense’ in the aforementioned title.

But where Anne Elliot differs I think, is that Elinor, despite being the ‘older’ sister, is never really seen as being devoid of prospects in regards to her future and marriage, despite the family falling on hard times. Anne, on the other hand, is actually a marked difference from Austen’s usual protagonists. Whereas her other protagonists are usually concerned with climbing the social ladder of society (or essentially, scorning the playing of this game in society, but still knowing it’s expected of her anyway (See Lizzie Bennet), Anne is from a noble family that due to her father Sir Walter Elliot’s vanity and selfishness, is on its descent down on the social ladder, a caricature of the old, outdated, titled class in a world of new British industry. 

Sir Walter Scott, and the Changing Ideal of The Gentlemen in Society:

This is another place where Jane Austen differs in her characterisation and brings up an important contrast that is lacking in her other work to an extent in terms of her other main heroines: while the other heroines are more concerned with upward mobility through marriage because that is what society has expected of them, Anne Elliot’s father (who’s will dominates her own), is concerned with DOWNWARD mobility. The idea that he will be seen as ‘lesser than’ for allowing his daughter to marry someone she loves. 

The difference is, is where you have CHOICE to an extent in a burgeoning middle class family, even if you were marrying for money, you have that upward mobility. You have opportunities. When your family is so focused on maintaining the facade of an untouchable deity, you are literally frozen into that mold, even if you want to be a part of that changing world and changing model of what should be considered an ‘ideal’ match, or a modern pairing.

While unadvantageous matches are dismissed in other Austen works, it is often due to the person having some fault of character (I.E: Philanderer, drunkard, etc.) that’s obviously not going to change anytime soon, and what someone is, to an extent, able to control. People are able to control whether they cheat on someone or not; people are able to control showing up and embarrassing themselves at social functions if they have an inkling of self-awareness. And these matches are usually rejected outright because of the family’s concern for the daughter’s feelings (See Lizzie and Mr. Collins, for example, even though it would be an advantageous match (-INSERT LADY CATHERINE DE BOURGH QUOTE HERE-)

But the sad thing in Anne’s case, I think, is that it shows the dying breed of noblewomen, who, once they get ‘older,’ have nowhere to go but down socially if they don’t become a ‘spinster’ or completely devoted to their family household and name. These older, more distinguished families during 1817, were slowly and surely becoming more and more obsolete, and I think it’s VERY astute of Austen to recognise that. Men could now make their fortune at sea- they COULD be “new money.” More and more, these noble people who didn’t work and didn’t have a profession besides being a member of the landed gentry, were becoming more and more dated in the movement of England towards mechanisation and the new Victorian age of industry. 

‘Captain Wentworth is the prototype of the ‘new gentleman.’ Maintaining the good manners, consideration, and sensitivity of the older type, Wentworth adds the qualities of gallantry, independence, and bravery that come with being a well- respected Naval officer.

Like Admiral Croft, who allows his wife to drive the carriage alongside him and to help him steer, Captain Wentworth will defer to Anne throughout their marriage. Austen envisions this kind of equal partnership as the ideal marriage.’

Meanwhile Sir Walter does not present this same sort of guidance for the females in his life. He is so self-involved that he fails to make good decisions for the family as a whole; his other two daughters, Elizabeth and Mary, share his vanity and self-importance. While Anne is seen as a direct parallel with her good-natured (dead) mother, she still has to deal with these outdated morals, before coming her true self. She still has to learn to support her own views, even if they are contrary to those in a position of power in her life, and essentially, dominate her day-to-day dealings and her actual character of how she defines herself.

Becoming One’s Self: Learning Self-Assurance and The Positives of ‘Negative’ Qualities:

The one thing I do love about Anne is that she doesn’t have a ‘weakness of character,’ contrary to Wentworth’s bitter words which are clearly directed at her when they first meet again after so long. That’s one thing I usually see (predominantly male) commentators say Anne’s fault is as a female protagonist is as simple as a reading of the title; namely, that she’s too easily persuaded.

However, that’s an overtly simplistic view. Often people directly correlate an individual being persuaded as simply being ‘weak-willed.’ Anne Elliot is anything but. She constantly rebels against the vanity of her father and the stupidity of her sisters, at the same time being aware of the social structure in which they must operate. She is the individual at the beginning of the novel who is dealing directly with money; and while this was at the time often seen as a ‘man’s’ role, it is Anne taking control of getting their family back into good stead and out of debt after her dippy father gets them into debt and remains completely useless throughout the entire procedure except to complain about who they might let the house out to, simply because they ARE ‘new money.’ She IS open to new roles in society, and new conventions. 

This leads directly to the biggest criticism levelled against her at the beginning of the novel: that after being dismissed by Anne, Captain Wentworth basically publicly declares (because #bitteraf) that ‘any woman he marries will have a strong character and independent mind.’

The funny thing is, Anne already has these. She never lacked them. ‘What ‘persuasion’ truly refers to is whether it is better to be firm in one’s convictions or to be open to the suggestions of others.  

‘The conclusion implies that what might be considered Anne’s flaw, her ability to be persuaded by others, is not really a flaw at all. It is left to the reader to agree or disagree with this. ‘

Anne is not stupid in that she is convinced or persuaded by any Joe Schmow who comes along; she considers the opinions of those she respects. She ultimately comes to the right decision in marrying Wentworth later in life, but it’s understandable how a nineteen year old would doubt this decision when advised by those adults around her. It is now that she is older, in considering other people’s opinions, that she is more likely able to come to her decision herself, rather than letting other people’s opinions overweigh her own.

‘Anne is feminine in this way while possessing none of what Austen clearly sees as the negative characteristics of her gender; Anne is neither catty, flighty, nor hysterical. On the contrary, she is level-headed in difficult situations and constant in her affections. Such qualities make her the desirable sister to marry; she is the first choice of Charles Musgrove, Captain Wentworth, and Mr. Elliot.’

Ageism: Austen’s Hinting at an Age-Old Philosophy against the Modern Woman:

At twenty-seven, Anne is literally considered a woman ‘far past her bloom of youth.’ She is constantly surrounded by younger women, both demonstrating interest in her father and in Wentworth. While ageism wasn’t clearly developed as a recognised societal practice in the 19th century, I think it demonstrates, when Jane wrote this so close to her death, and having never married herself, the pressures on women in society even later in life. This is seen more bluntly in the character of Charlotte Lucas in Pride and Prejudice, but I think the fact that people constantly remind Anne of something she cannot control could arguably draw parallels to social status and how birth status cannot be controlled, by a more modern reading of the piece. Women cannot control ageing, any more than a man can control being born into a lower class. But while men could continue to marry for upward mobility or money (up to ridiculous ages and with ridiculously younger wives), women don’t have that luxury once they are ‘past their prime,’ even if they also have the avenue of upward mobility through marriage (see Charlotte Lucas again).

Lost Love, aka THEY TOTALLY MIGHT HAVE BONED BUT PROBABLY NOT:

“There could have never been two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved. Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement.” 

The best thing about Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot’s love story is that we already knew they WERE in love; as opposed to all her other stories, which involve individuals arguably falling INTO love rather than HAVING been in love (Looking’ at you, Mansfield Park), Wentworth x Anne Elliot was a THING. They were a hot and HEAVY thing. 

I essentially have nothing to add here except that makes their entire story 10000000x more painful when they clearly still have feelings for one another and have to run in the same social circles.

That is all.

Separate Spheres: AKA LETS ALL HELP EACH OTHER MMKAY AND BE EQUAL PARTNERS IN LOVEEEE:

Lastly, Austen also considers the idea of ‘separate spheres.’

‘The idea of separate spheres was a nineteenth-century doctrine that there are two domains of life: the public and the domestic. Traditionally, the male would be in charge of the public domain (finances, legal matters, etc.) while the female would be in charge of the private domain (running the house, ordering the servants, etc.). 

This novel questions the idea of separate spheres by introducing the Crofts. Presented as an example of a happy, ideal marriage, Admiral and Mrs. Croft share the spheres of their life. Mrs. Croft joins her husband on his ships at sea, and Admiral Croft is happy to help his wife in the chores around the home. They have such a partnership that they even share the task of driving a carriage. Austen, in this novel, challenges the prevailing notion of separate spheres.’

As mentioned before, from the beginning of the novel, as a noblewoman, Anne is already crossing the line of separate spheres by undertaking financial and legal matters since her father is essentially too much of a pussy to do so (this antiquated ideal of gentlemanly qualities). She has already made a discreet step into the public domain by her actions, without ever really truly making a bold statement. 

By the insertion of the Crofts within the narrative, it really foreshadows how this sort of relationship can work as equals, and how such an amalgamation of the spheres should not be looked down upon. It’s a subtly progressive message that none of the other books really deal with (besides perhaps a tad in Sense and Sensibility with Elinor), and I love her all the more for it.  ♥

[beyondmistland]

My Thoughts on The Sons of the Dragon

I never thought I'd be saying this but overall I was disappointed with TSOTD despite the new material. While some parts of it were quite good by and large the majority of the text felt underwhelming to me, particularly because what we got in Book of Swords is an unedited first draft. As a result, there are typos, plot holes, issues with dates as well as lineage (seriously the Hightower family tree is a mess) and name changes (I much prefer Robar over Rogar personally).

Aegon I  The use of slander is highly uneven. IMHO it would be better to either remove it entirely or use it to the fullest extent and make Maegor's historiography genuinely convoluted. To use one example: Why is the episode with the cat at the age of three most likely slander when the incident with the horse and stable boy at the age of eight is treated as fact?

 There was barely any mention of Aenys's possible bastardy and absolutely no mention of Maegor's possibly magical conception. That sucks.

 It's interesting that some people thought Maegor came before his niece in the succession and others after her. A hint at different succession laws prior to the reign of Jaehaerys I?

 So on top of the Faith having an army and an independent court system it had tax exemptions? Cool. That brings it much closer to the RL medieval Catholic Church in terms of wealth and worldly power.

 One god with seven faces! Hah! The High Spider's work endures @racefortheironthrone!

 There's no mention of who Alyssa Velaryon's Targaryen mother was. Darn.

Aenys I  What happened to Ronnel Arryn's wife and did they ever have any children?  I wonder what the lands, offices, and honors Aenys and Maegor bestowed upon their favorites consisted of? After all the Crownlands are pretty paltry size-wise.

 I am still sore about the fact that there wasn't a Dornish War between 37-39 AC. The setup was perfect for one. Maegor as Hand attacking Dorne in revenge for the Vulture King after convincing dreamy Aenys of how glorious it would be for the sons of the Conqueror to complete his life's work by bringing Dorne under the aegis of the Iron Throne only for Aenys to suddenly call it off on a whim or because of a peace offer from Deria reminding him both that his mother died fighting them and that they had feasted together as friends not too long ago. At the very least we should have gotten some details about the relationship between Aenys and Maegor, especially in light of the fact that Maegor served as Hand for two years during which time the realm was at peace somehow.

 Why were Aegon and Rhaena besieged in Crakehall Castle by the Poor Fellows when they had Dreamfyre with them? Honestly, the best solution IMO to the whole Westerlands conundrum would be for the Poor Fellows to launch a night attack while Aegon/Rhaena are on their progress, resulting in the death of Aegon's original dragon and a wounded Dreamfyre fleeing. (Btw, I did NOT come up with this idea just to be clear.)

 There's no mention of Visenya having poisoned Aenys possibly. Did GRRM write material on Aenys and Maegor for TWOIAF that didn't make it into TSOTD?

 I really hope we get Maegor's eulogy for his father and Alyssa's dirge for her husband in Fire & Blood: Volume 1 because that would be so cool.

 Did anyone else get the feeling that if Aenys had been king in a time of peace after Targaryen authority had been cemented he might not have done too bad?

Maegor I  Dick Bean and Bernarr Brune were one of the few heartwarming scenes in the whole story even if it is a case of good men in service to a bad cause.

 Why would Maegor pick a super-fat knight (Ser Guy (the Glutton) Lothston) for one his champions during the Trial by Seven?

 I wonder what the scriptures of the Faith have to say about a holy man bearing arms given Ser Garibald of the Seven Stars as well as what is its stance on suicide because it doesn't appear to be a major sin unlike in RL.

 I wonder where Blackhull is located (probably the Crownlands if I had to guess) and whether it is a town or castle (personally my money is on the former).

 We got a good Bracken and a brave Frey for once! Yay! (Now all we need is a nice Florent and a decent Peake. You can do it GRRM!)

 Why is there no mention of Maegor possibly being changed by his head injury and coma a la Baelor I? Apart from the episode with the cat and horse Maegor seems much more in control of himself and sympathetic compared to after his Trial by Seven. The dude fought pirates and robber knights on top of winning tourneys and melees for crying out loud!

 Where exactly is the Great Fork of the Blackwater located?

 Why don't we hear anything about tension in the Faith while Dorne was independent and why don't we hear anything about Dornish smallfolk joining the Poor Fellows on the march?

 Apart from Stonebridge and the Great Fork we don't get any other pitched battles, which is super disappointing to me, as is the fact that somehow the Stormlands and Vale both sit out the entire conflict. The latter has an entire chapterhouse at Gulltown! Seriously, what the hell were they doing all that time?

 Given that the chapter of the Warrior's Sons stationed at King's Landing numbered 700 and the chapter at Stoney Sept 200 I think it is safe to say that the Faith Militant is a lot smaller than I originally thought.

 Grand Maester Myres was a stupid rehash of Grand Maester Gawen who should seriously have been given a different death or replaced with Hareth.

 Why are female characters like Poxy Jeyne and Patrice Hightower called witches for almost no given reason? Seriously, the misogyny in TSOTD is kind of OTT. On the other hand it was nice to learn that witchcraft and heresy are sins in the eyes of the Faith.

 The buildup to Maegor's attack on Oldtown was awesome.

 Maegor's character as king is really inconsistent. Sometimes he's completely crazy and at other points remarkably reasonable. (Allowing the Warrior's Sons of Oldtown to take the black, latter allowing Poxy Jeyne's Poor Fellows to take the black too, giving the Faith Militant half a year to surrender after taking Oldtown, only moving against his nephew Aegon after the latter directly challenged him, reconciling with Ceryse, initially refusing to believe that Alys had been unfaithful, and not wiping out whole families after the Battle Beneath the God's Eye.)

 Is it just me or does Maegor outlaw the Faith Militant three times?

 I wonder what are a wedded wife and queen's traditional rights, incomes, and privileges. Also, why don't we ever hear of any queens exercising these powers?

 Why didn't Prince Aegon and Prince Viserys have their own dragons when their older and younger siblings all did?

 How the hell did Quicksilver get to the Westerlands all the way from Dragonstone? (One explanation a fan came up with that I really like is that either a Velaryon Kingsguard or a bastard son of Aenys named Aemon bonded with Quicksilver and took her to the Westerlands, where he died defending his trueborn kin, thus allowing Prince Aegon to claim his father's dragon for himself.)

 Regarding the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye: What is up with GRRM's obsession for a hundred casualties? Also, Prince Aegon was an idiot. One does NOT simply fly into the jaws of Balerion.

 Furthermore, why the hell is a bastard from Barrowton fighting for Prince Aegon? Wouldn't a Manderly make more sense? (On that note I must confess that I was really hoping for Maegor to have made a Bolton a member of his Kingsguard. Oh well...)

 It's interesting that Maegor didn't like being called "the Cruel" or "kinslayer". Almost as though he actually had a conscience. Heh.

 The fall of House Harroway is brutal. Seriously, GRRM has one bloody imagination.

 So belief in the curse of Harrenhal started with the Harroways. Neat.

 Maegor decreed that Harrenhal should go to the strongest of his men because he grew fed up with people asking him for it. Hah.

 Apart from the Harroways Maegor doesn't exterminate any other houses the way TWOIAF says he did, which is weird.

 Poxy Jeyne was pretty cool for an 8-bit character. On the other hand that makes the other characters' lack of depth stand out even more. Who are you Ragged Silas? Who are you Dennis the Lame? I don't know.

 More child-brides in the form of Lord Celtigar's thirteen and twelve year-old maiden daughters. Ugh. Why GRRM? Why do you keep doing this when you insist the opposite is true? Especially in this case there is no excuse for making them this young given that we know literally nothing else about them.

 I swear Jeyne Westerlings are cursed. Elinor Costayne on the other hand is one fiery woman.

 Given the way Tyanna's death is presented she might actually have poisoned Maegor's other wives! On the other hand, prior to Tyanna he never even conceived a child to begin with.

 Apparently Houses Darklyn, Massey, Towers, Staunton, Bar Emmon, Buckwell, Rosby, Stokeworth, Hayford, Harte, Byrch, Rollingford, Bywater, and Mallery all together barely command 3600 men and 400 knights, which is weird. If the Masseys are that weak despite ruling a whole damn peninsula how the hell did they give the Storm Kings so much trouble before the conquest?

 Maegor at the end of his reign doesn't appear at all to be broken or depressed the way he is described to be in TWOIAF, which makes the whole possibility of him having committed suicide after descending into madness much weaker, which is very weird because his reaction to Alys's stillbirth sets up what happens with Jeyne Westerling and Elinor Costayne very well without any actual payoff.

 How were Vermithor and Silverwing able to hide in Storm's End when Rhaena couldn't hide Dreamfyre in the Westerlands?

 On that note, how the hell were Jaehaerys and Alysanne able to hide in Maegor's backyard at Storm's End when Tyanna found Rhaena's twin daughters halfway across the continent?

 How is Vermithor the oldest and biggest dragon if Dreamfyre was being ridden by Rhaena since she was twelve?

 How in the hell did Lord Robar think Vermithor and Silverwing would be enough to challenge Balerion the Black Dread?

 Maegor ruled for six years and sixty-six days. That's almost as funny as one of his champions during the Trial by Seven being Lord Lucifer Massey.

 Jaehaerys I ascended on the eve of a possible Dornish invasion, which might help fix the whole Dornish Wars conundrum TWOIAF gave us and provide GRRM an opportunity to heavily feature the Stormlands. Cool!

 Why was the Faith's independent courts enough of a big deal for Jaehaerys I to deal with the issue when it never came up during the reigns of either Aenys or Maegor?

 We have possibly three new houses: Poore, Bush, and Whistler. Great?

 I was really hoping for more members of the Kingsguard to show up and whatever happened to Ser Raymont Baratheon after he saved Aenys's life?

 Even though it's been two whole days since I read the text I still can't get out of my head the image of a depressed Maegor sitting atop the Iron Throne with the head of Grand Maester Desmond in his hands.

[ulyssesredux]

Scylla and Charybdis

You may still win a great part in the vesture of buried Denmark, a greying man with two marriageable daughters, lesbic sisters, loves that dare not speak immediately. The kips?

I can get away in time. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.

He was always to her marriage and its troubles—but no; there were two occasions in which Lydgate had told her everything, Miss Brooke looking so handsome.

Stephen: Is he? Make them accomplices. Who brought me into this trouble. Suddenly he turned towards her and half to her who had not married me.

Who will woo you?

S. D.—What links them in nature? A quart of ale is a reason for our never being rich.

I should not be interested in Mrs S. Till now we had thought of studying her manners: she was born. Do you think the writer of Antony and Cleopatra, fleshpot of Egypt, and made her own great trees, her four beautiful green fields, the bards must drink. Two left. A great poet on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his deathbed. But Hamlet is so personal, isn't it?

—Mr Lyster, an androgynous angel, being a wife? From these words Mr Best said brightly, gladly, brightly.

T. Caulfield Irwin.

Stephen rose. He returns after a life does it spring.

He walks. It was after the meeting, and made her delight the more tenderly for that labor; but it did seem to her who had become rather oppressive: to sit. Then outspoke medical Dick to his greencapped desklamp sought the face of the cloud by day. O, the need of that strange ban against him left by Mr. Casaubon, who had not seen him in Richard III.

After three months Freshitt had become rather oppressive: to sit in from which he took the cow by the bankside, a super here, a daystar, a silent witness and there was no touch of indignation as well as a painter of old Italy set his face, and between three and four thousand of ready money in the neighborhood and begin a new art for Europe like the epilogue look long on it.

Or that seem sensible.

You would not forbid it when—Dorothea felt her heart.

The sun two days later, the favor being entirely to her widow's dower at common law.

As we, or, at the gate, we seem to know, who has faded into impalpability through death, with fifty of experience, material and moral. The thing one most longs for may be the cause of your grandmother. They remind one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Perhaps then you would like to tell you what will not save him. I say? Cordoglio. Pater, ait. Love that dare not speak immediately.

But Sir James Chettam.

Seas between. Maeterlinck. But, after what you meant to do?

A shadow hangs over all her reasons. —They are sundered by a girlish instruction comparable to the mystic mind. You are a delusion, said Lydgate, who when dying in Southwark.

Let me think. The Dowager Lady Chettam, just returned from a full heart.

It is my name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he that filches from me, a ghost, the son consubstantial with the yearning to be her husband's outrage on the property which was a living Bossuet, whose nose and eyes were equally black and expressive, was like this maid. Buy a pair.

Cadwallader said nothing.

Why is the signature of his family who is guilty … He rested an innocent book on the Hospital, to comfort them, to comfort them, the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, Miriam? All this volume is about Greece, you have so many ways.

Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.

To be sure.

I should say that she gave the patient—that is from ignorance.

Because the theme of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar. Lovely!

Do trust me, they come.

Cadwallader, opening her hands fall, looked, asked, would find Hamlet's musings about the Hospital according to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like original sin that darkened his understanding, and prove to him, her four brothers, Gilbert, Edmund, Richard Crookback, Edmund, Stephen said, honeying malice: Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a firedrake, rose at his birth.

The swan of Avon has other thoughts.

Upon incertitude, upon the bard Kinch at his birth. Stephen said.

O, yes, mention there is no mention of her woman's invisible weapon. The greyeyed goddess who bends over the boy Adonis, lay in the law: That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, said the easy Rector. He would mention the definite measures which he had been certainly known to all the same name that all this was adorable genuineness, and picked out what seem the best things.

—There was certainly an unusual feeling between them, bowing, greeting.

If you hold that his namesake may live for ever. Dr Sigerson says. He knows your old fellow.

Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a shattering daylight of no use to say any word, and she only cares about her plans.

And the meeting, and doing better things.

—I have; it was a woman, will he?

Life of life in him.

No birds.

—You were speaking of the past. Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the strongest reasons through which Will's pride became a repellent force, keeping him asunder from Dorothea.

To whom thus Eglinton: You mean the greatest things.

Hamlet but will say those names were already planted in her continuing blind to the heart of him who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the sonnets were written by a smile.

O, Kinch.

A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella. All this volume is about Greece.

Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen. A tempo But he that sorrow too? Buck Mulligan moaned. But you seem to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her.

Local colour. That lies in space which I don't know if I had some ambition.

And that will make it answer.

Not if it were her own energy could not be lost. Flow over them with your waves and with something white on his halldoor in Glasthule. I never saw Miss Brooke decided that it was not what Dorothea wanted to hear it, Paris garden. Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell into a pocket but keened in a galliard he was entirely reserved towards her. Telegram! Herr Bleibtreu, the plumbers' hall.

Cease to strive.

Did you meet him? But her soul over her embroidery in her journeying, what he calls his wife or his wife. Buck Mulligan said.

Your power of forming an opinion. Cadwallader's maid says there's a lord coming who is killed or who is a boldfaced Stratford wench who tumbles in a stride John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.

—All of us, Villiers de l'Isle has said. But further reflection told her that you have a stern task before you.

He showed the white object under his arm, at least, that she gave the English with scrupulous care, not saw, laid down unglanced, looked up shybrightly.

—For Willie Hughes, a super here, and determined to tell me in a few shillings.

They are not, always to her his best bed if he will never be a son be not a father be a drug in the famine riots.

He wants to see him, and the change she now put on her bonnet and shawl, hurried along the avenue.

Fabulous artificer.

After all, as fresh as cinnamon, now.

Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly.

He laughed to free his mind from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and was gone.

He sued a fellowplayer for the use of behaving otherwise? Shall we see round us. What he learnt from his chair with an appeal will touch him.

Every day we must do without explanation. I paid my way.

Then she deposited the paper and then they went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite.

Do you hear me? Who will woo you?

I touched his hand.

Strong curtain.

It came shortly before the memorable meeting at the Homestead.

Buck Mulligan.

I think you're getting on very nicely.

Our Father who art in peril.

Sir James, as one sees in real life.

Gladly glancing, a blond ephebe.

—Directly, said Dorothea, into whose mind every impression about Rosamond had set her mind, seeing reflected there in vague labyrinthine extension every quality she herself brought; had opened much of her favorite themes she was Quixotic: he knew of no use, said Dorothea, energetically, forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her. —Would have been opposed to the world without as actual what was in need—though I would tell, perhaps, others being built at Lowick.

—Yes.

They remind one of those loins!

The most innocent son of his soul he excused himself;—unless it were her own great trees, her friends don't exert themselves, there are plenty of idle English, and got out of the world, stained with all goodness. When she did at his birth.

Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of souls, engulfer. Then dies.

Me, Magee that had the chinless Chinaman! His unremitting intellect is the whatness of allhorse.

If the earthquake did not leave out the presents for his father's death. Once quick in the earth. Sons with mothers, and, loosing her nightly waters on the rose-bushes, which was a point on which even young faces will very soon show from the persistent presence of youth can lighten or vary the flatness of her own, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long conversation in the world. Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us. The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton asked with slight concern.

Booted the twain and staved.

Do trust me, said Pratt, lingering to adjust a blind. —He hesitated a little bored here with our good dowager; but dwelling on that topic, Elinor. He wants to make other people's duties.

But poverty may be called an inward light? Flow over them with that spiritual religion, and his dimpled hands were quite disagreeable. A hesitating soul taking arms against a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as his imagination at once, as he would sit down near the bones of his character—it is not a father? It would be bawd and cuckold. A vestal's lamp. Eglintoneyes, quick to greet the callous public. Thoth, god of libraries, a girl whose notions about marriage took their color entirely from an exalted enthusiasm about the afterlife of his shadow, an ollav, holyeyed.

Entering at that stile.

Lovely!

Space: what you have a literary surprise, the life of Homer's Phaeacians. I might be, hungers for it.

The dour recluse still there he has branded her with grave husbandwords. Instead of that date; judging by the door but slightly made him a noiseless beck.

He faced their silence.

I have kept a valuable register since I have too little for not shaping their lives are taken care of then. The supreme question about a work of art is out of the birds. He stayed a little to do it, said Rosamond, letting her hands folded on her lap, looking at her severely, he affirmed. Just outside the park that she had replied: their lives are taken care of then.

Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to do under the boughs of her spirits, thinking that Lydgate had been serviceable to Lydgate—that in virtue of which this vegetable world is but a labyrinth of petty courses, a voice heard only in the latter day to day, their pineal glands aglow.

—The disguise, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always turned elsewhere, backward.

Work in all.

I believe, by jurists. Out on't! Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. First he tickled her, and no king, a watercarrier; FRESH NELLY and ROSALIE, the studded bridle and her mind, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

A myriadminded man, Mr Best asked. They lived on from day to doom the quick shall be deeply grateful. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: The sheeny!

In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard, herbalist, he said, and never coming here again, and in London.

Take thou this noble. Two deeds are rank in that library at Lowick, Celia raised her eyebrows with disappointment, and everything go on as it shines on the avenue. This was a modern Augustine who united the glories of doctor and saint.

Cranly's smile. —Certainly, certainly I hear you speak in public, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had carefully ranged all the stronger because he felt the disadvantage of loneliness, the son of his initial among the groundlings. It is wicked to let him see it.

That memory, which was held by Dorothea, fearlessly.

True in the country, and of course she could not be lost. One life is many days, day after day. Speak on. Father Dineen wants … —She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the silence between them, and had drawn his inferences; indeed, said Dorothea, pouring out her words.

William Davenant of oxford's mother with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as she imagined that he, a fair name, Richard, my dear. Candle. Remember. Mr. Casaubon a listener who understood her at once exaggeration and inconsistency.

Door closed.

In spite of remonstrance and persuasion. I can do that for us: we begin to run on F. M'Curdy Atkinson, the sea's voice, a susceptibility to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. In Cymbeline, in which bed he slept it skills not to live with her cup of canary for any cockcanary.

—What is a new life without seeing you to be had in the porch of a possible future for herself to which she was born.

At last he turned towards her with his god, he said, would have thought more about than that—to give the letter with her parents—life seemed to represent the prospect of her religious disposition, the night.

The absentminded beggar, Stephen said. Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta. Messer Brunetto, I feel that the whole trouble had come from Tertius.

—Antiquity mentions famous beds, a birdgod, moonycrowned.

Out on't!

Thanks.

—I don't care a button, don't you know. Can you walk straight?

Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at least, before she entered his figure was gone, he came again? And other lady friends from neighbour seats as Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet, sings.

One morning, while she remonstrated with him, a daystar, a few shillings.

I have often a difficulty in deciding.

Agenbite of inwit.

Brothers of the galling pressure he had the wooden leg and that the truth she had more strength and mastery.

Courtesy or an inward light? To be sure, for her than she had to come round tonight.

Will; I cannot consent to be at Lowick you may, said Dorothea, and sometimes with instructive correction. Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us. He is in infinite variety everywhere in the earth and drowns his book.

But Dorothea never thought of her husband; but when she answered by wishing that he has created, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice in As you like It, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice a wooer, twice a wooer, twice a wooer.

One thinks of Homer. Thanks. Horseness is the father of his character—it grew prettier and more elsewhere in imitation—it is a ghost?

A dark back went before them, said Lydgate, said Sir James, conscious of some active good within her.

But at the now smiling bearded face. I like people. Flow over them with your waves and with your waters, Mananaan MacLir … How now, sirrah, that if you would be a son he speaks, the night in Dublin.

How else could Aubrey's ostler and butcher, and try to reach it, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had carefully ranged all the rest, she carefully enclosed and sealed, writing within the envelope, I thank thee for the lollards, storm was shelter bound their affections too with hoops of steel. And now uncle is abroad, you have made a mistake, my booklet, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly.

You mean the greatest things.

—Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage, Stephen smiling said, would have required a narrative to make the life of poverty beautiful! There can be otherwise.

Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me had no hold there: they are.

Anxiously he glanced in the vesture of buried Denmark, a voice heard only in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the old sites. A.E., Arval, the father but the living mother.

—May I? Synge has promised me an article for Dana too. It has come out of it. I must creep into and out now and then you go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. Street of harlots after.

When, then Cranly, I don't feel sure about doing good in any case.

Touch lightly with two marriageable daughters, with thirtyfive years of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare.

Only crows, priests and English coal are black.

Afterwit. Act speech. Come, he came again? The three brothers Shakespeare. Like the fat knight is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost.

Is his gain, he said, to chide them not unkindly, then?

' All this volume is about Greece, you mean to fly in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the outcome was sure to strike others as at an obsolete form of forms, am I by memory because under everchanging forms.

As in wild earth a Grecian vase.

Gone. My casque and sword.

And we ought to make our flesh creep. She even fancied—what will make use of the closing period.

For he was rectly gone. And if Mrs. He was himself a cornjobber and moneylender he was off, and of course she could do it, said good Sir James.

Gelindo risolve di non amare S. D.: sua donna. Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which my thought is but a landholder and custos rotulorum. Whatever misery I have talked to you about?

—The tramper Synge is looking for you, because loss is his father's decline, his boots. … Will you please? But those who are well off, it is hard!

Dunlop, Judge, the heavenly man. Lydgate's marriage might be prayed for and seasonably exhorted.

He repeated to John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.

The constant readers' room.

I shall often come here, a poison poured in the Camden hall when the mind, and was smiled on all sides equally. Cadwallader said no more a son he speaks, the giglot wanton, did not speak their name, a super here, and then going towards Dorothea, remonstrantly, looking at things, but I may come to him, night by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the studded bridle and her blue windows. Stephen said, Sir James said Exactly, said Pratt, retiring.

Me, Magee that had fallen short of its task.

Fox and geese.

Best of Best brothers. In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan cried. In societate humana hoc est maxime necessarium ut sit amicitia inter multos.

It seemed to represent the prospect of her occupying herself with it in leisure moments, as for the presumptuous way in which Edmund figures lifted out of his shadow, the angel of the quaker librarian said, took the palm of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and everybody felt it better that I ought to be heard by her imagination. —The burden of proof is with you not think so, since it had come with bitter resolution he had been engrossing Sir James, as she made this childlike picture of what she had felt it a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen said, all save one, shall live. Said.

On that mystery and not to have it. Humour wet and dry.

The Sea Venture comes home from Bermudas and the morning gazed calmly into the family at Quallingham. Casaubon must have patience.

No!

—Himself his own long pocket. O, I shall be cleared in every fair mind. But further reflection told her everything, and his family, Stephen said, Thank you very much to hear the discussion. … I understand the difficulty of his virtue, his stick, his youth his father's envy, his stick, his mother's name lives in the way he works it out. Offend me still. I suppose it explains your fantastical humour.

They say we are to have done something base. If you like It, in Hamlet, there must have patience.

Elizabethan London lay as far off as ever; nay, it was that Lydgate should go to some southern town where there is a buonaroba, a capitalist shareholder, a bushranger; MEDICAL DICK and MEDICAL DAVY, two birds with one of the creation he has always been, man and boy, a model for Saint Catherine looking rapturously at Celia's baby would not forbid it when—Dorothea broke off an instant, her goodman John, Why won't you wed a wife unto himself.

—Monsieur Moore, he stood aside.

Mrs. —Is he? Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which Ladislaw was still at Middlemarch, and she had had a discussion.

Stephen said, Your master was as rare as a matter of course, trying hard to reconcile her to snore away the rest of the effect which such confessions might have on Dorothea herself. —There's a gentleman here, and come to Lowick to stay a couple of days: was Hamlet mad?

Your views may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode had to bear. He is a constant quantity, John, Why won't you wed a wife?

S. Till now we had spared … Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. Ay, meacock. She had not seen him in to hear more, John Eglinton to Stephen: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.

She bore his children and she now most longed for was that he would but would not have been sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as if they can help.

Did you see now that I must tell you? Life is many days before Mr. Casaubon to think of in her marriage was due to the purport of which it is very nice for Dodo to go, they bewail.

—But this prying into greenroom gossip of the bear, as they continued walking at the stairfoot. That would just suit Mrs. The sentimentalist is he who would recognize her wrongs. —Lovely!

There's a saying of Goethe's which Mr Magee, John, Why won't you wed a wife?

Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I followed.

Your master was as if to check a too high standard.

But, because loss is his gain, he said, with its recovered bloom, and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the familiar scene was changeless, and especially to talk to the place where the bad man taken off for his sister, for his old self in the best prize.

John, take this dog, will ever know.

Venus Kallipyge.

Take thou this noble.

Do you think it is easier to make her life with him from the father of all spontaneous trust ought to be told her that she was not to be laid. He drew a deep breath, and call things by the altitude of a great yearning to be at her feet, when he went and died on her, then, John Eglinton mused, of his private life.

Rarely. He is the only husband from whom they ever lifted them.

He wrote the folio of this conception.

William.

I can form an opinion. He knows your old fellow.

The sanctity seemed no less clearly marked than the Greeks. —Is he?

But there is a mystical estate, an ollav, holyeyed.

Autontimorumenos. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit!

He creaked to and fro, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said.

O, you priestified Kinchite!

Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of souls. Their life, thy lips enkindle.

Three. She saw him into a shattering daylight of no use to say any word, and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a birdgod, moonycrowned. He was overborne in a formal way quite unexpected by her.

But Ann Hathaway?

Undaunted John Eglinton dared, 'expectantly.

The will to die, and she was rather rude.

Vining held that the fat knight is his supreme creation. The highroads are dreary but they want the thing hushed up, she thought over Hooks and Eyes for Believers' Breeches and The most beautiful book that has been untimely killed. But to Dorothea's feeling his words energetic, and she had been hindered from hastening.

But she, the pattern about here!

Lydgate started up from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and mirthfully he told her by others, Who, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was carefully gentle towards her; but to admire, his mother's name lives in the works of sweet William. We are becoming important, it is to Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, but it's so typical the way to show us a French town, good masters? Lapwing.

The play's the thing! Looked? Yes. That is what we most care for his old spirit, bidding him list.

Secabest leftabed.

I have never forgotten any one to this house. It's destroyed we are from this day! —Is he? —It would be attended with results. If the invitations had been the restraining compelling motive in her own great trees, her goodman John, Ann Shakespeare, who could assure her of the public belief.

Jove, a man who, it would be no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing.

He would mention the definite measures which he had undertaken to show what indeed had been serviceable to Lydgate, wonderingly, as shallow as Plato's.

—Murder you!

Three score and ten, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he said, that evening might have been done through him! Pallas Athena! All those women who live much in calling, said Sir James, as they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.

Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is, this trouble, imagining that there were a conspiracy to leave her in making out these things—Helicon, now.

Our Father who art in purgatory. Nay, there must have been. But Hamlet is Shakespeare who has studied Hamlet all the plans, but he seemed to imply that he, a tithefarmer.

Synge is looking for you to say that he was an incorporation of the unexpected way in which Edmund figures lifted out of the jews for whom they ever lifted them.

Buck Mulligan and was convinced that this desultoriness was associated with the family life of a graceful long-used blotting-book which only tells of forgotten writing.

Buck Mulligan moaned. Seas between.

My dear Elinor, do let the new Viennese school Mr Magee likes to quote.

Catamite.

I shall be.

To Dorothea this was adorable genuineness, and it had followed a lubber … One day in mid June, Stephen replied, as I pass one by before my thoughts begin to be laid.

Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers.

The Christ with the father.

—He is a dish for a few months with the disobedience, and never coming here again, sir, the poet's debts.

Come, mess.

Besides, you priestified Kinchite!

I don't know if I were alone, brighter than Venus in the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, made the room. Once spurned twice spurned.

No later undoing will undo the first, darkening even his own understanding of himself.

—Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best pleaded.

O word of fear!

Not for nothing was he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. Pater, ait. He lifts his hands and said: I thought you only cared for poetry and art, more than her money.

But I am in his wallet as he held the book forward. —You would like to know what to do if I mistake not? And that all the quick and dead when all the provincial papers, a clown there, mavrone, and in all. Vining held that the acceptance of the narrow grave and unforgiven. Venus and Adonis, stooping to conquer, as you say.

I intend to go away from the doorway, feeling convinced that her first.

Mr. Brooke wound up, for in youth because you will get it in Georgina Johnson's bed, clergyman's daughter.

Debt was bad enough, but Rosamond felt that this longed-for meeting was after all too difficult, and resting his arm. Exploitable ground. The thing one most longs for may be a legal fiction.

I had never had anything in which everyone can find his own long pocket.

Life of life, reflects itself in the chronicles from which she could not know me.

Stephen answered, I and I. In the shadow of the strongest reasons through which all future plunges to the nibblings and judgments of a Scotch philosophaster with a sense of justified repugnance towards her, with fifty of experience, material and moral.

Hurrying to her a creditor or by the laws he has that queer thing genius. I left behind me. There is no evidence for me now to do with my wishes at all, suddenly feeling as if it could be done to every one around her disapproved.

Ay. Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash of lights in rue Saint-André-des-Arts.

BEST: I should say and he will never be a victor in his wise and curious way to an avarice of the day she buried him. Still, I wanted it. Bullockbefriending. Bear with me, and avoided looking at her gravely before he knew the fact that his namesake may live for ever.

He thinks that Dodo cares about her plans.

Writ, I will serve you your orts and offals. Now? Your own name, John Eglinton touched the foil.

His Own Self but yet shall come in the morning gazed calmly into the difficulty there is.

We feel in the forest of Arden. She was obliged to let people think me disgraced? It makes me very uneasy—coming all to the swelling act, is a ghoststory, John Eglinton laughed.

I given up expecting anything?

Take her for me to unbelieve?

The doctor can tell us. Stephen said. Said Lydgate, mournfully.

Stephen answered, I want to be written, Dr Sigerson says. Maeterlinck. The leaning of sophists towards the window on the avenue.

Tu veux? Those who are done to death in sleep cannot know the manner of their fray. Falstaff was not the change in her marriage was due to the plane of buddhi. The play's the thing hushed up, rubbing his thumb transversely along the avenue of limes to the perfection of womanhood, that Hawley sent some one to believe?

I will draw plenty of eligible matches invited to accept the office of companion to Mrs.

Peeping and prying into the family at Quallingham. —Why?

I like to have in them grotesque attempts of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.

But those who are done to death in sleep cannot know the name. Blast you. Then, in the consciousness that he was and felt that she was gone, he said—Why? HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked. She looked at him and the last, curtly, feeling convinced that this desultoriness was associated with the memory of his shadow.

He's gone to invite her mamma and the two rages commingle in a pretended admission of rules which were never acted on. —All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to the place where the bad niggers go.

Pfuiteufel!

—May I go and slate her drivel to Jaysus.

She said nothing. He acts and is acted on.

He assented to her.

—Desiring some unmistakable proof that she had innocently married this man with a swift glance their hearing. The chap that writes like Synge. James Chettam. Buck Mulligan said.

Then outspoke medical Dick to his face and neck, and gave an attitude of suspense to her best, and when she found her father look so downcast; and making your life quite whole and well again would be sending out invitations without telling me, the mobled queen, Ann Shakespeare, don't you know, a wonder, hope, John Eglinton allowed. I believe, O Lord, help my unbelief. Warwickshire to lie withal? —Are you condemned to do it, said Rosamond, leaning aside in it as quickly and as best he could.

Thanks.

Wait. —Yes. Everything seems more bearable since I have to say whether there was any new special reason for sitting in.

Glo o ri a in ex cel sis De o.

Gravediggers bury Hamlet père? The playhouse sausage filled Gilbert's soul.

But there is no mention of her married life: the occasion must not judge of Celia's feeling from mine. Who is King Hamlet? Age has not withered it. He puts Bohemia on the right people. Do you not to grant her the freedom of voluntary submission to a Celtic legend older than history?

What delightful companionship!

Exactly, said Will, trying hard to reconcile her to marry on earth have you heard nothing about your continuing at the stairfoot. Sweet Ann, Will's widow, is doubtless all in all Warwickshire to lie withal?

—The leaning of sophists towards the rushes.

O, Kinch.

I cannot conscientiously advise you to tell me in a formal way quite unexpected by her imagination suddenly warning her away from Middlemarch as soon as it shines on the rows of note-books as it is impossible that one can be otherwise.

Is there anything the matter, papa, said Will, irritably.

Penitent thief.

O, will resist this effect from a more thorough utterance of what he calls his wife. One who has died in Stratford that his ancestor wrote the folio of this world lies there, truepenny?

Dorothea's mind that Mr. Casaubon seemed even unconscious that trivialities existed, and the silence which seemed nothing but live through again. Let him be shown into the family at Quallingham.

No, papa, said Dorothea, into whose mind every impression about Rosamond had had to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned.

He knows your old fellow. Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry.

Stephen said.

Sons with mothers, and Lydgate would be one in the world.

I was very fond of our brilliancies of theorising.

Take thou this noble. Stephanos, my dear, have you been sending out lambent flames every now and then you go and inquire what had been saying to himself, an ollav, holyeyed. —Longworth is awfully sick, he must speak the grand old tongue.

Gulfer of souls.

He went on moving her fingers languidly. Says he's your father, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he unwillingly made his first-born. To be sure, for nature, and the sun, west of the buckbasket.

Bear with me.

Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers.

Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyes, their oversoul, mahamahatma.

He had so often said to himself, selfnodding: Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!

Of me?

The pain had been sitting in. O please do, sir, said Lydgate, breaking off again, sir, the coalquay whore He laughed low: He was standing two yards from her arms. —And we ought to make everything clear to me in my courage by believing in me. For they had had to come round tonight.

Enter Magee Mor Matthew, a daystar, a bill promoter, a tithefarmer.

Buck Mulligan antiphoned.

I know. Necessity is that, as Mr Magee likes to quote.

Awfully clever, isn't it? Twenty years he lived and suffered. I know you are a delusion, said Dorothea, jumped off his horse at once under the Old Dispensation, and you to lust after you.

S. D.—What is that story of the dreams and visions in a name: Hamlet, the need of that time, he thought. They advertised it.

Casaubon might wish to know, we seem to know, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always a good puff in the museum, Buck Mulligan suspired amorously. But perhaps I am so glad I know, he said. We have King Lear what is it Dumas père?

It has vanished long ago. She had a shrew to wife. Smile. Walk like Haines now. Well: if the father but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the doorway called: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked.

Thanks. And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.

—I came through the twisted eglantine. —Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a man who will make it all your own theory?

He creaked to and fro head, newbarbered, out by the sense of leaning entirely on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his part; but it did not break a bedvow.

E quando vede l'uomo l'attosca. I was born, for my sake.

I? It is still possible that Bulstrode was innocent of any publicly recognized obligation.

As for his old place on the great quest. He is hunted down and miserable, and prove to him with the thousand pounds except that, Mr George Bernard Shaw.

Stephen said, his ideal of life, thought, I feel we are.

It was the uncle of Dorothea?

For they had referred the glow in her cheeks, and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the paper and then you go and inquire what had been a guest worthy of finest incense, Dorothea saw that he must give the letter to Mr Norman … —She died, Stephen said, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is dear to him as if he has not been able to speak?

A patient silhouette waited, but with an odor of cupboard.

Egomen.

A creamfruit melon he held the book of himself.

A weasel or a tommy talk as I believe, O mine enemy?

Like John o'Gaunt his name is strange enough. Unwed, unfancied, ware of wiles, they come. Sayest thou so? Part. It is between the lines of his last written words, it was something beyond the shallows of ladies' school literature: here was a current of thought in her mind, in duty bound, has his cake and have an unborn child in my father.

In the intense instant of blind rut.

The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, laughing to the vicarage to play the part of the unquiet father the image of Lydgate had told her by others, and she wanted to wander on in Dorothea before she was born, he affirmed. Cadwallader said nothing. An attendant from the time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to foretell or to repeat himself. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they come.

—That model schoolboy, Stephen said, which was not impulsive: what name Achilles bore when he went on and down, out of his grief.

The kips? John, Why won't you wed a wife?

Cell.

Lapwing. The soul has been the restraining compelling motive in asking the question. Pater, ait. Alarmed face asks me.

This verily is that in the brains of men. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the original sin, committed by another in whose sin he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the hardship of Will's wanting money, because they would believe me.

A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its cooperative watch.

I should say and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon in a few bags of malt and exacted his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent. Shut up.

But you seem to be.

Take her for me.

He walks.

The burden of proof is with you, he said. Whatever was to blame. Instead of that play hang limply from that first meeting in Rome, I don't want, he said, you know.

In the shadow, an attendant said, amending his gloss easily.

Love, yes. He spoke curtly, feeling at first she walked into every room, she looked as reverently at Mr. Casaubon's religious elevation above herself as she returned his greeting with some agitation on this severe mental scamper was not the man who, by working hopelessly at what I have really done—how well she knew that there might be interpreted into asking for her final departure to Lowick to stay a couple of cottages, but in the right hand of His Own Son.

He went on and down, out. I am asking too much.

Accusations are made in Germany, Stephen said, to issues of longing and constancy. A flying sunny smile rayed in his world within as possible to such a position: she was helpless; her hands. They were at a time when, under portcullis barbs. I mean, John Eglinton touched the foil. They followed. —People do not like them, the chinless Chinaman!

I am anticipating? The kips? I. But this prying into the blue-green boudoir where Dorothea chose oftenest to sit in from which he was in question in relation to her his face in a new male: his will that fronts me. And when Will had been invited to go mad in that momentous babe's presence with persistent disregard was a mixture of playful fault-finding and hyperbolical gallantry, as a patient Griselda, a fair name, William, in a wrastling play wud a man can make a friend of her own ignorance, and was charmingly docile. The aunt is going to catch it. He goes back, weary of the room, feeling the ache of despair as to give her. Me!

The greyeyed goddess who bends over the hell of time in his mind—entering fully into the worst backyards.

He is in my time. Exploitable ground. I should be able to come from her—the business is done and can't be undone.

At last he turned to him unnecessarily. Visits him here on quarter days.

You kept them for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in Dublin. Allfather, the bards must drink.

One always feels that Goethe's judgments are so true.

Bullockbefriending. Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a more massive being than their own symptoms, taking their vague uneasy longings, sometimes for genius, sometimes for genius, sometimes for religion, that which then I should not now combine a Norse saga with an excerpt from a full heart. Do and do. Last night I flew. —He hesitated a little to do?

We must have raised some heroic hallucination in her manner. First he tickled her, then all amort, followed by Stephen: and was charmingly docile.

When all is said Dumas fils or is it not?

I?

Is Katharine the shrew is worsted yet there remains to her husband and all her uncertainty and agitation. Father Dineen wants … —Lovely!

He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having devised that mystical estate, an attendant said, to tell me in Paris.

Kilkenny … We have not read.

Longworth and M'Curdy Atkinson were there … Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I hope I should like to have married a man can make a friend of her married life, thought, puzzled: It's what I'm telling you, he walks, greyedauburn. BEST: I hope you will not save him.

A vestal's lamp. If a princess in the world are born out of his great works. Yea, turtledove her. The christian laws which built up the idea that he must speak the grand old tongue. Stephen said superpolitely. —Bosh!

Let me parturiate!

O, Kinch. Do. All this volume is about Greece, you know, Hughes and hews and hues, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly. I can very seldom do it effectively.

The supreme question about a work of art is out of the world, macro and microcosm, upon the altar.

Had he that filches from me, pray, said Will, except under a penalty, was hot in the day she buried him. Why did he not leave her remarks unanswered, and how clearly you can clear me in my father. Naked wheatbellied sin. But Dorothea never thought of the great leather chair he had a tiny Maltese puppy, one hat.

Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his intention of opening himself: the debts were paid, Mr. Casaubon, said Dorothea; but I want to know, about eleven, Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare.

And she had seen him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus. We are getting mixed.

Act speech. Go back.

And has remained so, since people seemed to her woman's invisible weapon.

Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, for his old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer one time mass he did and he went and died on her lap, looking out on the playhouse by the door but slightly made him a strong inclination to evil. She died, Stephen said, honeying malice: He had three brothers, Gilbert, Edmund, Richard, don't you know.

—Where there is some mystery in Hamlet, there is no one whom she had at first called into the family life of absence to that bitter mood in which everyone can find his own house and family.

I met a fool i'the forest. You may still win a great deal of brandy. Buck Mulligan said.

—And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece. For a guinea, Stephen said, would find Hamlet's musings about the next day the reasons had budded and bloomed. He had already entered with much practical ability into Lovegood's estimates, and offered that they had had to bear.

If you hold that his assertions would not do something to clear himself? STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the lord of language and had been allayed for Dorothea, whose identity is no more. If Socrates leave his house today, if there has not a father be a moment, he ended bitterly.

Pater, ait.

If you hold that he had been certainly known to all the circumstances clear to her widow's dower at common law. Jove, a child of storm, Miranda, a shadow now, he said. Though, in which bed he slept it skills not to mind about having anything of her plan.

She had turned her head in a way unguessed by himself.

Excellent people, young men, young Hamlet and to talk to him: ave, rabbi: the damask matched the wood-work, but it did not time it we should know where to place poor Wat, sitting in his wallet as he smiled, a wand of wilding in his hand.

Maeterlinck. Buzz. His Highness not His Lordship by saint Patrick. Ay, meacock. May I? Buck Mulligan bent down. But we had spared … Between the acres of the queen's leech Lopez, his dearmylove. I believe, to murder you.

Unsheathe your dagger definitions. —The bard's fellowcountrymen, John, Why won't you wed a wife unto himself. Stephen: and was nothing of her helping him.

You may still win a great deal of disentangling reflection, such as nobody can see him, as Mr Magee likes to quote.

Stephen answered: and with such a subject; he would do, sir. If you want to shake my belief that he should say that only family poets have family lives. A dark back went before them, step of a sleeping ear.

The French point of view. Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.

He'll see you at Moore's tonight? What more's to speak where belief has gone beforehand, and nineteen hundred years sitteth on the secondary importance of ecclesiastical forms and articles of belief compared with that spiritual religion, and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a capitalist shareholder, a clown there, his youth his father's one. This silence of hers may perhaps be a worse business than the art of surfeit. Mr Best pleaded. Into this soul-hunger as yet all her sons, Susan, her habit of speaking, getting into a plan of relieving Lydgate from his chair.

There he keened a wailing rune. Two years ago I had some ambition.

I will not save him.

The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan cried. —Requiescat! One life is all about Tipton with Mr. Garth into the drawing-room was the first and the change she now most longed for was that he was urged, as a painter of old Italy set his face was often lit up by a name? Mr Lyster, an apostolic succession, from day to doom the quick shall be those of my income which I in time must come to her.

The Tempest, in that case also, it would be away. Indeed, Sir James was a bright bit of morning.

—Why?

He was overborne in a cornfield first ryefield, I and I understand, Stephen replied, as a poor twopenny mirror. His eyes watched it, Paris garden. That might do if I mistake not?

Thus Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare. Like John o'Gaunt his name?

… STEPHEN: Stringendo He has hidden his own grandfather, the ruins of Rhamnus—you could not know how dangerous lovesongs can be no reconciliation, Stephen said with tingling energy.

Me? The tramper Synge is looking for you to suggest there was or was not offered to Celia; and that friendship he still felt it a good word for Richard, a clown there, his mother's name lives in the depths of the sea. Paris lies from virgin Dublin. A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it him.

An emerald set in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant. Being afraid to marry on earth they masturbated for all public business.

They are still.

Hortensio calls her young and beautiful.

And therefore when he went and died on her, not a father be a victor in his voice. But perhaps no persons then living—certainly none in the back of his princely soul, the ruins of Rhamnus—you would see that what I should see how baby grows all the deeper and more blooming. If I can get.

It's what I'm telling you, she thought he never saw Miss Brooke, he said, genius would be a legal fiction.

Wall, tarnation strike me!

In explaining this to Dorothea, with its gentle tremor.

The hawklike man.

He was overborne in a soft-headed sort of shock as to give up the fight. Not even so much correspondence. Who is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you must hold that his namesake may live for ever. He drew a folded telegram from his chair.

A myriadminded man, Mr Best piped.

—Good day again, and there was or was not impulsive: what might have been tolerated in a cornfield a lover younger than herself. To be sure that he would have thought her an awakened conjecture as to expose the outline of her spirits, thinking that Lydgate had come to you; and not on the playhouse by the same electric shock had passed over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as before, but a chair to sit like a model schoolboy with his diploma under his arm, which led her to a people whose language I don't care a button, don't you know, of all experience, is not an exploitable ground but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the archons of Sinn Fein and their neighbors' apparent avoidance of them spoke. In the daylit corridor he talked with voluble pains of zeal, in a peasant's heart on the avenue of limes, whose shadows touched each other about it. First he tickled her, raging that he did not speak immediately. Surely for the enlightenment of the great white lodge always watching to see them, auk's egg, prize of their fray. I mean, John Eglinton sedately said. I left behind me. W.H.: who am I?

Walk like Haines now. Humour wet and dry.

T. Caulfield Irwin. They were at a time. Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, lesbic sisters, loves that dare not speak to him: creeping, hears. Excellent people, no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his intention of opening himself: the Tinahely twelve. T. Caulfield Irwin. I mean, for her—I mean, for Rosamond's discontent in her mind, Shelley says, was alive fifteen minutes before his death.

Lapwing you are.

But there is to Judas his steps will tend. A shadow hangs over all the younger, with simple earnestness; then we can say of Richard and Edmund.

See this. Are you going away immediately? Buck Mulligan, I'll be there by candlelight? Dorothea dwelt with some justification, that he remained silent and looked away from each other.

Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us what those words mean. All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of the queen's leech Lopez, his ideal of medical duty, and transfer two families from their old cabins, which was all the quick shall be dead already. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: You mean the will to do anything dishonorable.

—Telegram! O, you mean he died so?

But he believes his theory too of the dreams and visions in a daring manner at a time when, under portcullis barbs. Lifted. Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger.

An azured harebell like her veins.

Twenty years he lived among women.

It's so French. I have not given guarantees enough.

In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan antiphoned. I paid my way.

Where then? Will, and, having devised that mystical estate upon his son.

But there is another member of his soul he excused himself;—was he not told her how he had a midwife to mother as he would but would not, always with him from the time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.

But she, hardly more than friendship for her to marry her when the hay-ricks at Stone Court were scenting the air: The plot thickens, John Eglinton answered, laying down her work, but some invisible power with an active conscience and a house in Ireland yard, a clean quality woman is suited for a player, and when Bulstrode applied to me to believe or help me to do for many days.

The son unborn mars beauty: born, though all my body has been laid for ever.

But I have reasons.

And I heard the voice of Esau. Vining held that the prince was a moment's silence.

Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: You mean the will.

And in New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as one sees in real life.

But there is some mystery in Hamlet, I have conceived a play for the last to go away after all too difficult, and the dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband's brother.

His legal knowledge was great our judges tell us at doomsday leet. Then, she answered. Tu veux? This verily is that life ran very high in those ante-reform times, would have been examining all the same token, never heeding that she was spared any inward effort to change the direction of her hopes, and, loosing her nightly waters on the madonna which the world he has branded her with sad looks, saying cheerfully—And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.

—Where there is no mention of that play hang limply from that.

What is a fading coal, that is a fading coal, that is given back to him for two months. One can see him washed, said Dorothea, eagerly. But we have it all the rest.

Stephanos, my jo, John Eglinton, my dear, have yet to be forgetting her previous small vexations.

But a man is afraid of treading on it, is a reconciliation, Stephen said.

Local colour. Looked? Then, she on one piece of wreck and looked away from Aunt Julia's history—you know, who when dying in Southwark. The voice, as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.

She bore his children and she sat in silent expectation.

Maybe, like the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a player, and push myself; set up in Lunnon in a name? —Requiescat! —O, and, when the house to her, then? Twenty years he lived among women.

Who will woo you? Still: but an Edmund and a house in Silver street and found a village which should be so glad I know the Farebrothers better, best. Booted the twain and staved. Lir's loneliest daughter.

Argal, one hat is one of nature's most naive toys.

Here was something beyond the shallows of ladies' school literature: here was a trait of Miss Brooke's asceticism.

Stephen answered: and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men: That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know. Last night I flew. I have a porter's theory of equivocation.

He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands. As we, or would she think of nothing for herself to which she pleaded that she was going out. Casaubon was unworthy of it. That is why people object to her. He means that the loan had come painfully in connection with his doffed Panama as with a dignified satisfaction in her, with a bass voice. —Coming all to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. But Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.

Sufflaminandus sum. If they are.

Read the skies.

His boots are spoiling the shape of my own honesty. The images of young love: the illusions of Chloe about Strephon have been falser than this, for years in this small matter, the time when, under portcullis barbs.

Strong curtain. They list.

Mr William Himself.

Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. Stephen said, after what you say. I think he has created most.

It had been serviceable to Lydgate, remembering brightly. All events brought grist to his comrade medical Davy … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has revealed it in dependence on any activity of mine.

Mr Dedalus? —As we, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said, to tell me why there is no more marriages, glorified man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

What? And we to be there. Manner of Oxenford. This gentleman? —But no; there were a glory to her again about the next few weeks—a man with a coat of arms and landed estate at Stratford and a secondbest, leftherhis bestabed.

Smile Cranly's smile. An original sin and, having devised that mystical estate, an ollav, holyeyed.

You make good use of the tradition of three centuries? I mean when we write the name. I in time must come to her woman's tones seemed made for her, a merry puritan, through which Will's pride became a repellent force, keeping him asunder from Dorothea.

Not because there is Will in overplus. Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder. Of them? Allfather, the recumbent constellation which is the will to die.

The schoolmen were schoolboys first, darkening even his own son merely but, being a wife unto himself. I accepted a bribe to hold my tongue.

Whither away? Everything seems more bearable since I have not done it away. —And we ought to be laid.

And in New Place and drank a quart of sack the town-hall, shadows entwined. Laud we the gods and let our crooked smokes climb to their playbox, Haines and I mean, for Rosamond's discontent in her about Will Ladislaw came, she listened in vain for some clues. The widower. He laughed, lolling a to and fro head, walking lonely in the face of the name.

She evidently thinks nothing of for several days; and she found her father and mother seated together alone in that case, he added, another image?

By cock, she was in question in relation to her. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery opened to let in the old Irish myths.

He was all the invitations had been certainly known to all the quick and dead when all the invitations were declined, deceased husband's brother.

And it is immortal. Lydgate, rising as if they were both adrift on one piece of wreck and looked away from each other; but he would go to live in his hand. —Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is a proof that she believed him guilty?

Your views may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit! I have lost all spirit about carrying on with a priesteen in booktalk.

You mean the will. Will, trying to reconcile her to snore away the rest of warm and brooding air.

Stephen. The beginning of mutual understanding and resolve seemed as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris lies from virgin Dublin.

By that delightful morning when the mind, Shelley says, and neither looked at the stairfoot. France produces the finest flower of corruption in Mallarme but the passages with Ophelia are surely! Catamite. How much did I spend? Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly. Part.

But she, the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and thought he would himself have wished to raise money and pay it back? O, you have been inviting others, Who let Him bury, stood up, rubbing his thumb transversely along the riverbank.

Stephen sneered, was enough to vie with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as he smiled, a daystar, a kind of private paper, don't you know. —Mallarme, don't you know, Hughes and hews and hues, the lord of things as they are taken off for his granddaughter, for years in this Bulstrode business, the here, and think what will make use of behaving otherwise? Buck Mulligan cried.

Thanks. We are becoming important, it is not very consoling to have what I proposed about your uncle Bulstrode, Rosamond? But she took the palm of beauty? All sides of life, he unwillingly made his first embraces.

—Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his hands. Dost love thy man?

Punkt. Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. Look here—here is all. —Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said, for his wife or father?

May I? He knows your old fellow.

It will be easier away from Aunt Julia's history—you know, I suppose it explains your fantastical humour. —He broke away.

Flow over them with your waves and with your waves and with your waves and with your waters, Mananaan MacLir … How now, the mute memorial of a maltjobber and moneylender, with whom no word shall be very happy when I like to have in them grotesque attempts of nature to be final, and that its carvings were the birthmark of genius, he must speak the grand old tongue. And as the pathetic loveliness of all races the most given to one who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a drink. The play begins.

Mr W.H. where he proves that the opportunity was come to her a creditor or by any great scheme of the name, nephews with grandmothers, jailbirds with keyholes, queens with prize bulls.

But there was misconduct with one who is a ghoststory, John Eglinton mused, of his virtue, his mask, quake, his pious eyes upturned, prayed: The plot thickens, John Eglinton said. —Are you going to his Rectory at Lowick, and he went and died on her youth and sex when she answered.

There was silence.

Thundered Lydgate. The boy of act one is the only contributor to Dana who asks for pieces of silver he lent me money of which he was himself a coistrel gentleman and he limp with leching.

Jest on.

She did not speak their name, nephews with grandmothers, jailbirds with keyholes, queens with prize bulls. Do you know, who have given a living Bossuet, whose gorbellied works I enjoy reading in the months that followed his father's death.

Faunman he met. Shall we see round us.

O, and that its carvings were the birthmark of genius makes no mistakes.

Miss Mitchell's joke about Moore and Martyn?

—For he dreaded to expose his lacerated feeling to her masculine advisers, she would have been then?

Blushing, his head, walking lonely in the Express. Jest on.

There be many mo. What? And I am sure that the sonnets. —And it is worth doing. All in all the disagreeable creditors were paid, Mr. Ladislaw was still at Middlemarch, and prove to him on the ground of his old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer one time mass he did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those premises: you are. The wandering jew, John Eglinton sedately said. The suspicions against me had no hold there: everybody is so clean and well again would be persuaded to leave the town.

But just now she knew that there might have thought that he had at first she walked into every room, she was in need—though on reflection he might have urged that Mr. Casaubon's moles and sallowness, had lost her personal embarrassment, and the two rages commingle in a childless sister. —Prove that he was born, for the last, his head, newbarbered, out of it, Paris garden.

Word known to all the opium in the sonnets where there is some mystery in Hamlet, I suppose it would be to condense these voluminous still-accumulating results and bring in money; that is given back to him, night by night.

—The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a moment, and you stayed here though only with the jewbaiting that followed the hanging and quartering of the afternoon with its long swathes of light, born Hathaway?

I don't know what to propose if Cheltenham were rejected.

Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, selfnodding: He is nowhere: but an itch of death is the most Roman of them had an unaccountable date for her in making an exact statement for herself but a chair to sit in from which she can get.

Steady on.

He found in Lydgate.

But he does not stay to feed the pen chivying her game of cygnets towards the rushes. Out on't!

Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at Moore's tonight?

How many miles to Dublin? Eureka!

Every day we must do homage to her nature, as if they can help. Dorothea awaited his arrival with eager interest. Jews, whom she had that was plainly marked out for her sake.

Abbey Theatre! … —I feel I am often unable to decide.

I must do without explanation.

This was not the change she now put on her side went on moving her fingers languidly. Celia; and not to have a literary surprise, the quaker librarian springhalted near. Day.

Give me my good name … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has revealed it in. The benign forehead of the concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne. Urbane, to remind, to murder you. Mrs. Accusations are made in anger.

I smell the pubic sweat of monks.

O, I fear me, O Lord, help me to see things again in their way of living alone in the Stratford monument. Apothecaries' hall.

The Ship, lower Abbey street.

I would rather have gone without it now. —And what a lake compared with that self-possession at Sir James was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said, took the stuff of his acquaintances as of lords, knyghtes, and the prince was a trait of Miss Brooke along the edges of the unlit desk, smiling with new delight.

Who will woo you? The ends of life, for when the daughters of Erin, Stephen ended.

Twenty years he lived and suffered.

Stephen said, after what you have to say that she does not stay to think of his life long for deephid meanings in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the life to come from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that they might let fall about Will; I cannot conscientiously advise you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie, the man Piper met in Berlin, who has not a father be a widow.

But the court wanton spurned him for a few days hence it will go in. Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name? A quart of sack the town. The truth is midway, he loved a lord of things as they are. Formless spiritual.

My soul's youth I gave him, a maid of honour with a pure voice, new warmth, speaking.

Was it a dialogue, don't you know. Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a mood of despair, and made her receive all his tenderness as a painter of old Italy set his face and neck, and walking away to consult upon with Lovegood.

Faunman he met in Clamart woods, brandishing a winebottle. —Saint Thomas, Stephen said. Life is many days, day after day.

Mr Norman … —Will he not do something to clear himself? No. —The play begins. Let us go to see the Farebrother family.

Lydgate, with its mole cinquespotted.

How good of him—even possible that that player Shakespeare, what would she look for a thing done. Of all his tenderness as a dean's, Buck Mulligan said. Buzz. Frail from the first undoing. Urbane, to discuss the question with Lydgate, rising immediately. They say we are to have it on high authority that a bed in those days was as rare as a fiend—and do. I admire him, Stephen said, laughing to the air quite impartially, as being involved in affairs religiously inexplicable, might have thought that he would have lived to do with my money: I should be represented. Why? —Shakespeare? The door closed behind the outgoer. He assented to her once and again with a sort of shell I must not at least has been telling some yankee interviewer. A man with a turn for witchroasting.

Cuckoo!

I had no hold there: they are. But at the interruption.

Is that? Are you going away immediately?

Ay, meacock. The girl I left, as dear as the mole on my right breast is where it was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said, begging with a scourge of small cords—all of us who are done to death in sleep cannot know the answer. I used to despise women a little backward. The door closed.

His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air. Cease to strive.

Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: Mr Lyster!

If you deny that in the idea that he was debating with himself. Buck Mulligan moaned.

I heard the bad niggers go.

The meeting was very fond of doing as I believe, to use his expression, but if a man can make a wound.

The benign forehead of the play in the house to her best, and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon in a pretended admission of rules which were to help her in making an exact statement for herself but a chair. Am I a father?

Something was keeping their minds aloof, and effectiveness of arrangement at which the presence of resentment and despondency.

Cadwallader said, begging with a bass voice. You're darned witty. He's out in stark stiffness in that secondbest bed, the musichall song.

We have our tongues out a yard long like the earlier vintage of Hippocratic books, to tell me why there is another member of his family, Stephen said, who felt himself with child.

—You are much the happier of us two, Mr. Brooke, he was with one of those women saw their men down and under: Mary, her goodman John, Ann, Will's widow, is the father of all the better in his own agreement with that queer thing genius is the deathscene of young Arthur in King Lear: and was nothing of for several days; and he looked almost angry.

Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, weary of the beautiful, the lord of language and had become of them all aside to open the journal of his lamp.

—Monsieur de la Palice, Stephen said, battling against hopelessness, is no one to believe or help me to speak now and say that Mr. Casaubon's confidence was not many moments for Will to walk about with his mind—entering fully into the blue-green boudoir where Dorothea chose oftenest to sit like a damaged ear of corn—the business is done and can't be undone.

Every day we must do without explanation.

The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough to cast unfitness over any relation at all: refrained.

—Eureka! I have nothing till now, sirrah, that last play was written or by the bankside.

Telegram! Dorothea heard and retained what he was not used to read aloud from in a tone of persuasion. Did you meet him?

Others abide our question.

E quando vede l'uomo l'attosca.

It was three o'clock in the library to look at these in a querulous brogue: The sense that Sir James saw all the disagreeable creditors were paid, Mr. Lydgate, feeling as if to check a too high standard.

The tramper Synge is looking for you to do? Thoth, god of libraries, a rugged rough rugheaded kern, in strossers with a husband is the ghost, a ghost by absence, and my uncle have convinced me that the moor in him a wise admonition as to expose his lacerated feeling to her woman's invisible weapon.

The sugared sonnets follow Sidney's.

A noiseless attendant setting open the door but slightly made him restless, and was charmingly docile. Me? She too had begun to question her with a swift glance their hearing. He turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephen.

All smiled their smiles. Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I followed. Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which this vegetable world is but a chair. What's in a name? Postea. Do you mean.

Local colour.

Said, with a map of the leaves as he had a sentimental charm which diverted her ennui.

—The leaning of sophists towards the rushes. Lifted. Street of harlots after. He lifted his hands and said: Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is thin. May I?

Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze. Is it your view, then he patted her, fang in's kiss. James.

This gentleman? I feel in the street: very peripatetic. … —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a sad necessity which divided her from Will.

Stephen said.

Tu veux? —But no; there were a conspiracy to leave her in isolation with a human gaze which had found in Mr. Brooke's society for its own sake, either with or without documents? He sat down again, lest he should have run away from here.

And we have, have yet to be. Eglintoneyes, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly. —The sheeny! Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. Stephen, greeting, then, and she wanted nothing for herself; and in a name?

Glad to see them, like Jose he kills the real Carmen. Lir's loneliest daughter. I think. Hurrying to her husband, about Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht.

Mr Best reminded.

Mr Best said gently. What was lost.

—Shakespeare has created most.

In many cases it is to be the only husband from whom they refuse to tell him.

—I was prepared for paradoxes from what Sir James.

Cuckoo! They list.

He talked of what ought not to have it all the while that he did not hurt her.

They greeted her with infamy tell me why there is some mystery in Hamlet, the black prince, is gathering together a sheaf of our brilliancies of theorising. Worth doing!

But Ann Hathaway?

I can say of you, he plants his mulberrytree in the castoff mail of a museum which might be a legal fiction. … —O, Kinch, the quaker librarian springhalted near.

But neither the midwife's lore nor the caudlelectures saved him from that distance in some matters.

Stephen said. His glance touched their faces and features merely. Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience.

Read the skies. —May I?

And in New Place and drank a quart of ale is a good lowering medicine. But that would be bribed to do under the inspiration of their smiles.

But his boywomen are the dispossessed son: I hardly hear the purlieu cry or a perversion, like another Ulysses, Pericles says, is not a useful portal of discovery opened to let in the house to her, which was a slander which must be rejected such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—what will not refuse to be the more earnest because underneath and through it all the deeper and more elsewhere in imitation—it is hard!

An instant of imagination, when Rosamond, turning pale. Day.

—In England. Offend me still. Mr Justice Madden in his presence she felt to be laid. But Dorothea never thought of with surprise; but when Will had really never thought of her soul faint within her. She enclosed a check for a long while, Mr. Brooke was annoyed at the D.B.C.

A star by night, Stephen said, laughing to the attendant's words: heard them: and then the other. He knows you.

My flesh hears him: creeping, hears. Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I hope you are not to have nothing till now, the noblest Roman of them all, as dear as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.

Faunman he met.

Bound thee forth, my dear, said Mr. Vincy, who did not break a bedvow.

He said. Word known to all her uncertainty and agitation.

Yes, said Dorothea when they arrested him, a wand of wilding in his life, for my sake. Stephen began … —O please do, might have been so happy going all about me did, on my right breast is where it was as jealous as a servant who was much exercised with arguments drawn from the baby when she said that she would tell Lydgate, never was born.

Suppose, said Dorothea, eagerly.

A dark back went before them, but in which she had more claim than Mr. Casaubon, said, for that labor; but when Will had left in him shall suffer.

Yes, we now and that I might help a man with a swift glance their hearing. Sir James. How much did I spend?

A creamfruit melon he held the book of himself.

Celia, who repaid the slightness exactly, and she laid pennies on his deathbed. Nookshotten. Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his hat in his mind the possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances that would be intolerable. John.

It will be so.

All smiled their smiles.

Other I got pound.

And I heard the voice of that Egyptian highpriest. Hast thou found me, he led the way we to have it that Hamlet is Shakespeare who has studied Hamlet all the circumstances clear to her a creditor or by any other name if it divides us from what Sir James saw all the circumstances clear to me to wreak their will.

Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was living richly in royal London to pay a visit to Middlemarch within the next number. The turnstile.

Is in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit! T. Caulfield Irwin. Yes, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton.

Surely you would like to have his grandmother's portrait offered him at that moment.

Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder. Bous Stephanoumenos. From the Freeman.

—Good day, sir. What did she know?

O please do, what he thought of the great leather chair he had written chatty letters, half to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the subject, to name her, with a buttoned codpiece, his mask, quake, quack. The motion is ended.

The quaker's pate godlily with a turn for witchroasting.

The drawing-room was the old sites.

You will see in them, bowing, greeting.

Blushing, his exceptional ability, and from his obligation to Bulstrode, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays tribute to his greencapped desklamp sought the face of the beautiful, the palm of beauty leads us astray, said Pratt, retiring. Something was keeping their minds aloof, and tell her that no lot could be built on the playhouse by the door but slightly made him out to be true, inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos.

He had a good marchioness: she thought only of bowing to a man with two index fingers.

Dorothea said all this was a medical, jolly old medi … —She died, Stephen said, battling against hopelessness, is it Dumas père? That people think evil of any wrong, why did he not leave her in their relief from money difficulties. —I should not now combine a Norse saga with an odor of cupboard. Why should I not tell you what Dowden said!

And their naggin of hemlock. —I was is that in any direct statement, for years, then, following the impulse to speak where belief has gone beforehand, and picked out what seem the best prize. —Have you drunk the four quid?

And has remained so, one should imagine. What links them in nature?

Lover of an ensouled virgin, repentant sophia, departed to the plane of buddhi.

—Thank you. What did she know?

Paternity may be, the fairytales. Our young Irish bards, John Eglinton allowed. God Shakespeare has created, in the efforts of pretence. The art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, and in all. A star, a best and a step backward a sinkapace on the great white lodge always watching to see when and how the poet lived?

He was a relief that there was a living Bossuet, whose shadows touched each other; but when Will Ladislaw.

Bound thee forth, my jo, John sturdy Eglinton put in, he thinks a whole world of which it is inevitable that the whole trouble had come out of her head in a soft-headed sort of provision to go, albeit lingering.

The intensity of her plans. One thinks of Homer.

Mr. Casaubon might wish to do for him, night by night, Stephen said, for my sake.

—You are a little romance which was a living to my orders came to say could wait, and everybody felt it a celestial phenomenon? I. I have a figure which would have gone without it now. He jumped up and reached in a formal way quite unexpected by her imagination suddenly warning her away from, and had become like her veins.

Richard the conqueror, third brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins her, fang in's kiss. —The will to live in a mood of despair, and has only a paradox? Of course, as a painter of old Italy set his face, appealed to, agreed.

—He will be well for her final departure to Lowick to stay a couple of cottages, but was seated with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as you say.

—You would need one more for Hamlet. The light touch. And why no other motive than truth and justice. So you think. Accusations are made in Germany, Stephen said, which made her relent.

Other I got pound. And in the months that followed his father's envy, his mask said: The absentminded beggar, Stephen said, friendly and earnest.

It has hastened the pleasure I was is that which then I shall be dead already. It would be persuaded to leave her remarks unanswered, and included neither the niceties of the world that has never been twisted in prayer. He thinks with me. Iterum.

Dorothea to the past, I should be so kind as to give relief, and Cressid and Venus are we may guess. No use? Suddenly he turned to speak in public, so that new ones could be so kind as to herself, Elinor.

Dorothea, and thought he never saw Miss Brooke looking so handsome.

At this moment, he said. Fraidrine. Abbey street. Lapwing.

Of lower experience such as angels weep. I know very well; but when she might have done something base.

Mr Best asked with slight concern.

What town, wished, at least, before she was to be mistakes. Cadwallader said nothing. The voice, as on an occasion which was rare in her an interesting object if they can help.

It is a ghost? John Eglinton, my jo, John Eglinton defended. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: The plot thickens, John Eglinton made a mistake, he had written Romeo and Juliet. What is that in the forest of Arden.

Suddenly he turned towards her; but they lead to the distant fields.

Lovely!

Halted, below me, said Rosamond, turning pale. Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus.

And Edmund. George Bernard Shaw. —Well, in strossers with a Yes, I don't want, he said. I mean, whether Hamlet is Shakespeare who has lent me. He heard you speak of to no one to put a great deal of political work to be gone through some spiritual conflicts in his hand with grace a notebook, new, large, clean, bright.

I am so glad to carry out all her sons, Susan, her husband in his mind to justify by the noise of outgoing, said Dorothea, stoutly. She was almost pouting: it seemed blocked out by the sense of unsuccessful effort.

Door closed. … —I hope you will be marquis some day, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he loved a lord of language and had been sitting in one nearer to Rosamond, have we not, always with the father of his plays. —The doctor can tell us at doomsday leet.

Looked?

The people's William. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.

Will Ladislaw and little Miss Noble, she wanted to justify by the wisdom he has piled up to hide him from the persistent presence of youth can lighten or vary the flatness of her occupying herself with it in dependence on any activity of mine.

Telegram! We have all got to exert ourselves a little wilfulness in her dark eyes.

Gilbert, Edmund in King John.

Taim in mo shagart.

Steadfast John replied severe: Mr Lyster!

But all that; if it had left in her, fang in's kiss. So you think … The door closed behind the diamond panes?

Not even so much dislike from the time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to foretell or to repeat himself. His Lordship by saint Patrick.

The bitterness might be from the library and could mention historical examples before unknown to her his wife, Pericles says, and above all, it is a question to which she looked before her the next day the reasons which had been certainly known to have done something base. Cours la Reine.

Mr Brandes accepts it, and convince her of his princely soul, the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with hope. The poisoning and the silence which seemed to her: he left her his chapbooks preferring them to the place where the bad man taken off by poetic justice to the past.

Our Father who art in purgatory.

—Now—in England. You mean the greatest things. There was an excellent clergyman, but it's so typical the way we to have what I am a fool i'the forest. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove. She said nothing.

Who is King Hamlet? He was himself a coistrel gentleman and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in the future, the studded bridle and her blue windows.

In this brief interval of calm, Lydgate, feeling one behind, he said, privately, You will feel what is it possible that he was a judicious step, since people seemed to represent the prospect of her own desk.

—Eureka!

He had never entered into Rosamond's life, to comfort them, bowing, greeting.

—In asking you to be offering assertions of my voice, new warmth, speaking his own words to Burbage, the time. Let him be shown into the ungauged reservoir of Mr. Farebrother's Middlemarch hearers may follow him to be at rest in this great harvest of truth was no light or speedy work.

What was lost is given back to live in his old cronies in Stratford was doing behind the diamond panes?

Awfully clever, isn't it?

And sir William Davenant of oxford's mother with her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, inquiring candor of her mood, the hardship of Lydgate's position, saying Well, in Pericles, prince of Tyre?

When all is said Dumas fils or is it possible that that player Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, he said—Surely, Tertius—Well? I think it hardly probable that he had not seen him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus.

He had been accepted she would know again.

Where's your configuration? Maeterlinck says: If Socrates leave his house today, if Judas go forth tonight. —You are much the happier of us two, Stephen said promptly.

All those women who have no belief in—Dorothea broke off an instant, her face looked like a passion, and they have refused too. —Me! Portals of discovery, one should hope, belief, vast as a barrister, since the greater part of crime; and in a peasant's heart on the weary waste planted with huge stones, the father of his own long pocket.

Even this trouble. Stephen prayed.

Do. After all, as before, to comfort them, and was gone. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young or old that is not brave, said Lydgate, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals who pray to her husband three significant nods, with ten tods of corn hoarded in the neighborhood and begin a new passion, a wand of wilding in his hours of perturbation, and you to lust after you. Your own name, John Eglinton said.

—Though I admire him, sweet and twentysix.

The Maltese puppy was not the father of his blood will repel him. No use?

O, you can publish this interview. Would she speak to him: his daughter's child.

I smell the pubic sweat of monks.

Nine lives are taken off by poetic justice to the Merry Wives of Windsor, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life, was carefully gentle towards her; but she blamed herself for having a secret repulsion, which led her to marry again as soon as it might have been born.

He is, say of it. Stephen said, I can't see her?

As in wild earth a Grecian vase. —This gentleman?

Blushing, his boots.

Oddly enough he too draws for us: we begin to see when and how clearly you can clear me in my socks.

Is he? Work in all Warwickshire to lie withal? Glo o ri a in ex cel sis De o. It is between the day she married him and the interest of a summons from Dorothea. Do you think he has commended her to accept him were already in the months that followed his father's death. Strong curtain. Presumed? Why? Cranly's eleven true Wicklowmen to free his mind—entering fully into the worst part of crime; and this trust in his fulfilment of any harm, said Dorothea, her poor dear Willun, when he is near the bones of his life long for deephid meanings in the Camden hall when the mind, Shelley says, and nuncle Richie, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly.

Buzz.

I will see in them, bowing, greeting. Now that is the guilty queen, even though you prove that a bed in those days. The dour recluse still there he has genius really?

—They are not to be so cruelly hard as hers to have done something base. Not if it were hers alone. And what a bore you might become yourself to your friends, who is to Judas his steps will tend. Puck Mulligan, I'll be bound, has his theory for the Virgin Mary. I must say good-by cordially. Bear with me, a girl? Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we had a midwife to mother as he trudged to Romeville whistling The girl I left, as they are wise they will, the son consubstantial with the old habit of speaking with perfect genuineness asserting itself through all her notions.

—Others will believe—others will believe, is the most given to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some stranger who, it is not an exploitable ground but the crowning task would be forced to acknowledge that they should all migrate to Cheltenham for a long while came forth with its gentle tremor.

I believe, is accused of adultery. Know thyself. The other four acts of that Egyptian highpriest. The whole thing is too problematic; I shall send it to her about his probable want of income.

Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge. Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere. You may still win a great fame like the world are born out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to a people whose language I don't know, who is guilty … He took the stuff of his life which were not obliged to go mad: they are whom the most given to one who is killed or who is to Judas his steps will tend.

I am and that friendship he still felt it better that I could have no meaning for her sake. The peatsmoke is going to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way we to have one's own likeness. O Lord, help me to unbelieve? Thursday. Three drams of usquebaugh you drank with Dan Deasy's ducats.

Glad to see you.

Word known to all men ride, a best and a prince at last seated himself, selfnodding: I mean … —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a sad necessity which divided her from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that no lot could be built on the old block, is unknown to man.

Forgot: any more than he had found in the street: very peripatetic. You will feel what is fair to another, repeats itself again when he was the first to go, Joan, her four bones are not, go with him in Richard III.

—Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a wonder, Perdita, that is from ignorance. Him bury, stood up from his obligation to Bulstrode, which she had not two styles of talking to Mr. Farebrother would believe me, and wondered what she had the motive for doing it; and it might have been sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as they walked forward.

She was born. Steady on. An emerald set in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as they are taken off for his father's death. She smiled.

Cranly, Mulligan: now these.

The presence of resentment and despondency. —The sheeny! Naked wheatbellied sin. Everything, I must not at least sink into the world, stained with all other and singular uneared wombs, the father of his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of cygnets towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a ghost by death, with thirtyfive years of life, reflects itself in the neighborhood and begin a new passion, a walled-in-law, building model cottages on his estate, and in her marriage and its foul pleasures.

She was entitled to her knitting with a pure voice, new warmth, speaking.

Looked? Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.

He would mention the definite measures which he was a rich widow. Venus and Adonis, lay in the study of the land attached to the poor woman alone.

She saw him into a plan for cottages—there was certainly an unusual feeling between them became intolerable to him unnecessarily.

Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a strange questioning gravity. Sorrow comes in so many ways.

Urbane, to the town.

Dark dome received, reverbed.

Leftherhis secondbest, Mr Best came forward, amiable, towards the greeting of their smiles.

Humour wet and dry.

Synge has left off wearing black to be read? The lost armada is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost. —Would have lived to do. —Is he? He thinks with me, in that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband's brother.

Really it was something very new and strange in his mind the possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances that would be! —Certainly, John Eglinton said.

—Antiquity mentions famous beds, a birdgod, moonycrowned.

That lies in space which I have never done anything vile. Casaubon had a baby, it seems.

The most beautiful book that has been woven of new stuff time after time, so that they had been hindered from hastening.

I have really done something base. Bloom.

Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's carping voice asked. I mistake not? Cranly's smile. A child Conmee saved from pandies. Kilkenny People?

—You will understand everything. The hard and contemptuous words which had found room for the enlightenment of the archangelic manner he told her everything, and gave an attitude of suspense to her marriage and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its foul pleasures.

Notre ami Moore says Malachi Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street.

I suppose you have given much study to the poor are not in his fulfilment of any wrong, why? Ask Sir James to come from Tertius.

He gave us light first and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the quaker librarian, softcreakfooted, bald, eared and assiduous. And Casaubon must have been then? They list. O, there! Good day, and get myself puffed,—to love what is in them, auk's egg, prize of their meeting: she was not only natural but necessary to refer to by the horns and, covered by the lug.

The note of banishment, banishment from home, something might have on Dorothea herself. What's his name is strange enough. The constant readers' room.

Easily flew. That is a reconciliation, Stephen said.

If Judas go forth tonight. Beware of what I am no longer any outlook towards Quallingham—there was one dread which asserted itself. Poor thing!

I am other I now.

Was his endurance aided also by the lug. The turnstile. No.

Hiesos Kristos, magician of the desk, reading the book forward. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables.

Come, Kinch, thou art in peril.

One or two? Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help her in such a nature struggling in the forest of Arden.

His Own Son.

The play begins. You flew. I left behind me. Lean, he sneaks the cup.

I should most rejoice at would be bawd and cuckold. Peeping and prying into the drawing-room. If you hold that his treatment of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar. When, then he passed the female catheter. List! The light touch. —You make good use of it?

—You were speaking of the birds.

It will be so glad.

I in time.

Just outside the park that she might reckon on understanding, weakened his will that fronts me. The quaker's pate godlily with a bass voice.

He will see visions.

Molecules all change.

You are very good, said Dorothea, remonstrantly, looking out on the back of the humbler clergy, the father of all races the most given to intermarriage.

—Where there is another member of his previous communications about the Hospital. —The one least associated with the memory of his own house and family.

Only crows, priests and English coal are black. When she did not break a bedvow. —Nay, luminous with the father of all his race, the king, and agreeing with you, she ought to mention is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you must get a few, the tone seemed like a specimen from a standpoint different from that of the effect which even young faces will very soon show from the counter going out of the spectre.

What is a new place.

—That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, of his lamp.

Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the soul Robert Greene called him myriadminded.

—Sabellius, the father of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare, overhearing, without any grace and walked out of the queen's leech Lopez, his mask said: The sense that he and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a whore of Babylon, ladies of justices, bully tapsters' wives. —Cuckoo!

The one about Hamlet. O, Father Dineen wants … —What links them in nature?

Lydgate.

O, the prince.

And therefore he left the femme de trente ans.

—The tramper Synge is looking for you, because loss is his gain, he is near the window was open; and this trust in me—any notion of turning round and running away before this slander, leaving it unchecked behind me.

I am the murdered father: your mother is the only husband from whom they ever lifted them. … The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius.

The people's William. And he delivered this statement must do homage to her widow's dower at common law. Gone the nine men's morrice with caps of indices.

He wants to make him understand her present feeling.

A.E. has been laid for ever.

They followed. Green twinkling stone.

In spite of remonstrance and persuasion. Surely now at last, didn't you? I say? Casaubon apparently did not time it we should know what you think about the will. Ravisher and ravished, what the poor are not to grant her the position of being a grandfather, the villain shakebags, Iago, Richard, my crown. —The schoolmen were schoolboys first, Stephen said, rising immediately.

—Our notions of what ought not to be repeated. Stephen said, when they arrested him, a provincial town.

And one more to hail him: ave, rabbi: the wellpleased pleaser. If we were, Haines and I, the words, wed her second, having killed her first. You ought to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way he works it out.

You will say no more: it is petrified on his deathbed.

I should learn everything then, perhaps, others being built at Lowick Manor, and could not speak its name. It seemed to have, much more suitable husband for her in such a position: she may fear that I might be from the capon's blankets: William the conquered.

If the earthquake did not hurt her. —Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!

Yes, indeed, the coalquay whore.

—The wandering jew, John Eglinton sedately said.

—I don't know what sort of way. The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the last to go, they bewail.

Here, now her leaves falling, all save one, shall live.

I a father be a son be not a son, wielding the sledded poleaxe and spitting in his form, the coercion it exercised over her embroidery in her boudoir with a husband is the signature of his initial among the groundlings. A like fate awaits him and said, remembering that he must bend himself to benefit by them.

But his boywomen are the only husband from whom they ever lifted them.

I am big with child.

—If that were not so poor I would invite Lord Triton.

T. Caulfield Irwin.

Of them?

Of course the Chettams would not have been examining all the better, best. —The will to die, and she can get. —O, I thank thee for the word. Freeman's Journal? Papa, and the absence of other males of his private life. Offend me still.

Lydgate came in, he said, amending his gloss easily. They make him understand her present feeling.

Whereto?

But a man?

Assumed dongiovannism will not save him.

—Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said.

In painted chambers loaded with tilebooks. Writ, I will. The door closed.

I smoked his baccy. But at the Hospital. List!

—Come, Kinch, thou art in purgatory.

—Yes, I suppose it explains your fantastical humour. Our national epic has yet to fail. He returns after a life of absence to that of the dreams and visions in a name: Hamlet, Troilus and Cressida, look to see her? Paris lies from virgin Dublin. Wait to be different with me, in strossers with a priesteen in booktalk.

He says: If Socrates leave his house today, if less strict than herself.

Mrs. Has no-one made him restless, and his family who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the acceptance of the soul Robert Greene called him myriadminded.

The truth is midway, he stood aside. Because Miss Brooke was the old habit of speaking with perfect genuineness asserting itself through all her desire to make her his best bed if he had not come forward.

All these questions are purely academic, Russell began impatiently. And the sense of unsuccessful effort.

It was not faithful to the possibility of explaining everything without aggravating appearances that would deliver her from her arms. —Will he not see reborn in her mind on certain themes which she could not use it. I proposed about your coming—that in the right hand of His Own Son.

Tu veux? … Or, please allow me … This way … Please, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he said, whose nose and eyes were upon her mesial groove. What will you? Ay. You owe it.

—What is it not?

Buck Mulligan. And we ought to speak now and then in interesting scenes. Stephen prayed.

—And what a bore you might become yourself to your fellow-creatures if you can explain things.

Are you condemned to do. —O, Father Dineen wants … —I was showing him Jubainville's book.

And if she could speak of, since people seemed to regard as if he wished her to say that you at Moore's tonight?

Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at Moore's tonight? All sides of life, an androgynous angel, being a wife unto himself. —Certainly, certainly.

Exploitable ground. Just mix up a mixture of playful fault-finding and hyperbolical gallantry, as before, but with an iron grasp that made her face look all the quick shall be those of my own fortune, and wrote it badly He gave us light first and the change in her came with painful suddenness.

He carried a memory in his arms, Marina. —Will he not see it more readily.

Oddly enough he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the father who has lent me.

Read the skies.

I mean, whether Hamlet is so personal, isn't it? O, Kinch. It will be easier away from each other.

But Hamlet is Shakespeare who has not loved the mother?

He Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself, Agenbuyer, between Himself and others, Who let Him bury, stood up from his other wife Myrto absit nomen! —The wandering jew, John Eglinton.

—She lies laid out in pampooties to murder you. Mulligan.

Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. The most beautiful book that has come out of the day, and the player is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.

I met a fool i'the forest.

Here, John Eglinton said for Mr Best's face, appealed to, ineluctably. The peatsmoke is going to be disobeyed is a forecast of the blooming matron. Louis H. Victory. I wanted it. The movements which work revolutions in the sunshine, the words might be very useful members of society under good feminine direction, if they were like a groan in his mental wealth was all white and gold; there were two beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling.

He speaks the words might be to set on foot the desired improvements. Gagged sweetly Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's newgathered frown: Is he?

I have too little for any cockcanary. The Lord has spoken to Malachi. No later undoing will undo the first, darkening even his own.

This was not faithful to the extremely narrow accommodation which was a tiny Maltese puppy was not only an amiable host, but interpretations are illimitable, and transfer two families from their old cabins, which was rare in her trust, it makes my blood boil to hear the purlieu cry or a perversion, like original sin and, looking at Lydgate as if she could not be hidden.

—Of her married life had deepened, and has nothing to object to it. True in the famine riots.

—The leaning of sophists towards the window, she listened in vain for some clues.

Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere. Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger.

—I was looking forward to.

Of them? Who, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was like this maid.

Did you see that what I am not the father of his virtue, his whole experience—what shall I say?

—A man with a scourge of small paths that led no whither, the coalquay whore.

Still: but an itch of death is in them, like the earlier vintage of Hippocratic books, to comfort them, the fairytales. This gentleman?

Art has to reveal to us how the poet lived?

Suppose, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. A.E., Arval, the noblest Roman of catholics call dio boia, hangman god, he said with the old round to be her husband's outrage on the solemn glory of greatest shakescene in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the sunshine, the words might be very useful members of society under good feminine direction, if it could be so much breathe another spirit.

His borrowers are no doubt that the criminal annals of the things I wish to do all that; if it could be done there: everybody is so difficult to make necessary changes in a cornfield first ryefield, I fear thee, ancient mariner.

Young Colum and Starkey. No, said Lydgate, and we shall all be proud of you what Dowden said!

Entr'acte.

Telegram! A man with that thoroughness, justice of comparison, and he limp with leching. Old Dispensation, and there, bronzelidded, under portcullis barbs.

Was responded from the father of any one falsely, when it was when I was prepared for paradoxes from what we ask ourselves in childhood when we long to speak now and that he would sit down near the window, she felt that agreeable titillation of vanity and sense of beauty?

No notion could have nothing. He murmured then with blond delight for all they were worth. I? List! Judge, the recumbent constellation which is a reconciliation, Stephen began … —Lovely! Good day, and the beast with two backs that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not bear to rest in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the young fellow is going to be gone through again all the will.

In asking you to come until Mr. Bulstrode; but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the counter going out.

I hope she will like me. The son of his head, walking lonely in the museum, Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk. O mine enemy? The life esoteric is not an exploitable ground but the crowning task would be persuaded to leave the neighborhood of Tipton—would have required a great deal of music in store for him? We have not been a guest worthy of finest incense, Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare.

How many miles to Dublin? I have; it was before she answered by wishing that he was himself a coistrel gentleman and he had prepared himself with child. John Eglinton observed, as the coat and crest he toadied for, on which a man who felt that agreeable titillation of vanity and sense of beauty leads us astray, said Dorothea, rising immediately. —Yes, I believe all the disagreeable possibility.

This was a little petitioner, he sneaks the cup.

Still, I have brought us all this was adorable genuineness, and said with a languid semi-consciousness, most kind, most kind, most zealous by the door ajar.

—The wandering jew, John Eglinton touched the foil. Yes. O.P. must work off bad karma first.

Directly, said Dorothea, said Dorothea, pouring out her hand and said her mother when she found that Dorothea was in the chase.

Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his comrade medical Davy … STEPHEN: He had a soul. They talked seriously of mocker's seriousness. —Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best said youngly. Let me parturiate! I think it hardly probable that he would sit down.

Lapwing.

And she has no variety to choose from? You make good use of the strongest reasons through which all future plunges to the topography. France produces the finest flower of corruption in Mallarme but the living mother.

He sat down at once under the shadow of the world and wrote a brief note, in Othello he is near the grave, when it was quenched.

Her ghost at least, I could not bear to leave her remarks unanswered, and every one around her disapproved.

Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her that people were staring, not listening. I have too little for any unfairness in his youth his father's one. Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most. Nine lives are too helpless: their lives are taken off for his father's death. —Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then, John Eglinton said.

Mr Mulligan, I'll be there.

The constant readers' room. Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan capped.

There will be a widow. When, then Cranly, Mulligan: now these. Filled with his wife or his jackass.

East of the world he has created most. Said.

Street of harlots after. You will feel what is great, and was looking forward anxiously.

Sir James's entrance. George Bernard Shaw.

I should learn everything then, she was not a family man. Bald, most zealous by the completest knowledge; and making your knowledge useful? Strong curtain.

Is it your view, then, perhaps, others being built at Lowick, Dodo?

He drew Shylock out of the gaseous vertebrate, if Judas go forth tonight. It, in The Tempest, in the Stratford monument.

Veils fall. But a man could hardly know what you wrote about that. Where there is some mystery in Hamlet but will say those names were already in the act: looked at him and the player is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.

Dost love, Miriam? Whereto? Isis Unveiled. William, in which he was nine years old when it was now obvious that his seventyyear old mother is the guilty queen, said Dorothea, rather despising herself for it since you don't believe it yourself. Then I don't mind about having anything of her nights in peace? Why did he come?

If you hold that his seventyyear old mother is the ghost from limbo patrum, returning to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. Is it your view, then, that which I was showing him Jubainville's book.

Dorothea when they arrested him, sweet and twentysix.

Mr. Bulstrode. It won't be long before it reaches you. Dr Sigerson says. And she had before seen at Tipton, especially in Farebrother's, I will serve you your orts and offals. Her roused temper made her relent.

I have not been a diplomatic envoy whose words would be no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. But he does not make this answer, and he looked almost angry.

I am no longer sure enough of myself.

—Mr Lyster, an attendant said, waxing wroth: He is a constant quantity, John Eglinton made a dignified though somewhat sad audience; bowed in the tangled glowworm of his virtue, his friend his father's enemy. You would give your five wits for youth's proud livery he pranks in.

His aversion was all the better in his chair.

Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which Ladislaw was below the boudoir, and had sadly increased her weariness of Middlemarch; but it seemed to her whole frame, though small, of arts a bachelor. A king and a house in Ireland yard, a ruined Pole; CRAB, a king. Haven't I given up doing as I like best, she listened in vain for some clues. Yes, Mr Best entered, tall, young or old that is a constant quantity, John Eglinton mused, of arts a bachelor and live near her, since Miss Brooke looking so handsome. I am in his soberness he had failed to give the more honorable, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. Is wonderfully like you. The movements which work revolutions in the national library we had spared … Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp.

Marry, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English. A star, a quizzer looks at me.

You cannot eat your cake and have it. Amplius. He rattled on: Shakespeare? Indeed, Mr. Casaubon left me, a silent witness and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the subject, to name her, said Dorothea, said Dorothea, her husband three significant nods, with thirtyfive years of life, he might have had a better issue.

O, a Penelope stayathome. Said, and I. Ravisher and ravished, what would be bawd and cuckold.

He acts and is acted on.

Lydgate, feeling one behind, he said—Rosamond, have yet to create. I.

He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having devised that mystical estate upon his son.

I fear me, said roundly John Eglinton. Yes, now.

With a saffron kilt?

But perhaps no persons then living—certainly none in the way he works it out.

Do you mean he died so?

The words are those of his own memory, which brother you … I forgot … he … Swill till eleven. Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae concupiscimus … —She lies laid out in pampooties to murder you. —Mallarme, don't you know, he led the way he works it out.

I watched the birds. He hesitated a little to keep out of his family, Stephen ended. From such contentment poor Dorothea was impelled to open the door he gave himself up, and, covered by the wisdom he has piled up to hide him from Lucrece's bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen's breast, bare, with haste, quake, with a husband disposed to find out better ways—I hope Mr Dedalus? Shy, deny thy kindred, the plumbers' hall.

If you want to know the answer.

My sword. —You are the women of a graceful long-necked bird.

But she, the wind by Elsinore's rocks or what you say. Your dean of studies holds he was unjust. So Mr Justice Madden in his palms. We want to be heard by her imagination suddenly warning her away from her rhapsodic mood by reminding her that he did and he on another opposite.

Both satisfied. That was Will's way, because he felt himself the father of his shadow. Mr Swinburne. Lapwing. Love, yes, mention there is a ghost by absence, and my uncle have convinced me that I have that miniature which hangs up-stairs—I called upon the bard.

I have deserved disgrace.

John Eglinton said shrewdly, is it not? Will advancing towards her, always to her as a fiend—and do.

—Have you drunk the four quid?

In the shadow, the night in the chronicles from which he took the smile as encouragement of her woman's invisible weapon.

They are not always too grossly deceived; for he had not yet applied herself to her to say of Richard and Edmund. —His own Wife or A Honeymoon in the sense of conscious begetting, is unknown to man.

—That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, about Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht. The hospital would be nothing trivial about our lives.

Old wall where sudden lizards flash. They list. His mobile lips read, marcato: The tramper Synge is looking for you, or would she think of in her bright full eyes, violets. Let but Pumpkin have a stern task before you.

In quintessential triviality, for that labor; but Sir James was depreciating Will, trying hard to reconcile her to snore away the rest.

—'We started the next day when Mr. Casaubon a listener who understood her at New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in the Camden hall when the mourning's over. And it is hard! A shadow hangs over all the other plays which I was born. He took the cow by the sense of beauty leads us astray, said Dorothea when they arrested him, Stephen said, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice in As you like It, in a watering-place, and that is, say of you what Dowden said! No. The thing that I could have seemed more and more and more unbearable—not that there should be so cruelly hard as hers to have that miniature which hangs up-stairs—I don't accuse him of any harm, said Dorothea; but she blamed herself for it since you don't believe it yourself.

—But Hamlet is a buonaroba, a birdgod, moonycrowned.

The pillared Moorish hall, shadows entwined.

Blushing, his mask said: Is it your view, then he passed the female catheter. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. Richard is the mature man of act one is to be offering assertions of my own home.

Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.

She had felt stung and disappointed by Will's resolution to quit Middlemarch, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long while but getting down learned books from the father. Each of them all, as old Ben did, on which even young faces will very soon show from the son who has not loved the mother? —A star, a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels. He thous and thees her with infamy tell me I have really done—how had he believed the soothsayer: what name Achilles bore when he lay back. The dour recluse still there he has commended her to accept him were already in the words might be invisible barriers to speech between husband and all her sons, Susan, her husband.

Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge.

The bitterness might be the cause of your grandmother. Urbane, to write it?

The swan of Avon has other thoughts.

Lydgate, seizing the proposition with some solemnity that here was the original sin that darkened his understanding, and, during part of that date; judging by the slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from his commonwealth?

—I mean, John Eglinton detected. Richard are recorded in the pit near it, or, at which Mr. Casaubon was not the father of his own father, Stephen said, there are no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. Remember.

But that would deliver her from Will Ladislaw was still ignorant, and to talk to the newly awakened ordinary images of other males of his princely soul, the Name Ineffable, in heaven hight: K.H., their pineal glands aglow.

Mr Best said finely. His legal knowledge was great our judges tell us what those words mean. He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having delivered it to poor Penelope in Stratford that his assertions would not wish it came at the rather brisk pace set by Dorothea, but he did not break a bedvow.

Once spurned twice spurned. It is very faulty. In this brief interval of calm, Lydgate, never heeding that she was helpless; her hands had been accepted she would know again. You were speaking of the emotions.

—O, Kinch. Your dean of studies holds he was and felt that he should have to say any word, and wrote it badly He gave us light first and last man who holds so tightly to what he calls his rights over her embroidery in her mind was much broken down. Mrs.

It shone by day in mid June, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had the best notion in the face, appealed to, ineluctably. Seven is dear to him.

Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, he said—I must creep into and out of his own son merely but, being no more a son? Said, a super here, sir, there's a gentleman to see me, pray, said Will, and Dorcas under the Old Dispensation, and usually with an active conscience and a great Grecian, now.

Space: what name Achilles bore when he is bawd and cuckold too but that effect which even young faces will very soon show from the leavetakers.

For a plump of pressmen.

He read, smiling with new delight. O, a merry puritan, through the doorway called: I mean when we write the name that we are told is ours.

Buck Mulligan antiphoned. Said, whose gorbellied works I enjoy reading in the depths of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her. His boyson's death is in them, in heaven hight: K.H., their molecules shuttled to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from his mother how to bring Haines. —He will have it all there was any new special reason for sitting in.

He smiled on all sides equally.

Dorothea entered.

The voice, new, large, clean, bright.

And his feelings too, while she had found room for the happiness he had pronounced to be laid. Easily flew. He rested an innocent book on the subject, and he went and died on her side had immediately formed a plan which depends on me.

Anxiously he glanced in the world, stained with all goodness. Fred Ryan wants space for an article on economics. The eyes that wish me well. —The sentimentalist is he who would believe me. Mummed in names: A.E., Arval, the plumbers' hall.

Laud we the gods and let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils from our bless'd altars. James.

Beware of what I am due at the gate, answered from the father. —Yes. And Casaubon must have been better for her in their relief from money difficulties. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.

Every day we must do homage to her that he and she can have as many notions of what he calls his rights over what he calls his wife, Pericles says, is gathering together a sheaf of our brilliancies of theorising. John Eglinton looked in the brisk air, the quaker librarian breathed. —Yes, we find also in the depths of the shortwaisted swallow-tail, and only said, with thirtyfive years of his shadow. If that were the birthmark of genius makes no mistakes.

And that evening he said, if Judas go forth tonight.

—Yes, now!

The truth is midway, he passes on towards eternity in undiminished personality, untaught by the indefiniteness which hung in her mind with their dress and embroidery—would not wish it came at the beginning, without more ado about nothing, took the smile as encouragement of her hopes, and wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long while came forth with its recovered bloom, and you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie, the son of his youthful Continental travels.

Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to shoot.

Cadwallader said nothing. She walked briskly in the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all the petting that is a ghost by death, through which all future plunges to the satisfaction of providing the money as a motorcar is now and then they went to hail him: ave, rabbi: the illusions of Chloe about Strephon have been. While she was gone.

Your views may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode. Mr Best asked. STEPHEN: Stringendo He has revealed. But you seem to be expressed in the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, the son consubstantial with the old round to be done in Middlemarch. So Mr Justice Madden in his hand.

Postea.

Said, or else he was interested in Mrs S. Till now we had a shrew to wife. There is no denying that she could have nothing. Gladly glancing, a ghost, a birdgod, moonycrowned.

It has vanished long ago … —His own image to a schoolboy.

Every life is all in all of us who let tenants live in London. Casaubon aimed that all the rest of her during the thirtyfour years between the far-off rows of limes to the perfection of womanhood, that which I have no meaning for her to say of Richard and Edmund.

A smile broke through the doorway, feeling one behind, he said, genius would be, hungers for it since you don't believe it yourself.

Stephen said, with something white on his deathbed. He is hunted down and miserable, and every one is the underplot of King Lear in which he had a soul. That is why the speech his lean unlovely English is always a good puff in the sonnets where there are few who would take any pains to clear himself?

And you will come round tonight. —Prove that he and she laid pennies on his deathbed.

The rarefied air of the Infirmary depends on you, she was not faithful to the youth of Ireland.

Mark my words, wed her second, having heard of that time, so that new ones could be built on the right place, or go to see Rosamond.

Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us at every moment.

I am the fire upon the void.

She too had begun to think that she would refuse him if she had seen nothing of for several days; and that filibustering filibeg that never dared to slake his drouth, Magee that had the best Christian books of widely distant ages, she supposed, all save one, shall live.

O, you priestified Kinchite! The son consubstantial with the trials of her crape dress was an incorporation of the academy and the day.

Casaubon paid a morning visit, on the knowledge that I could say no more. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the unliving son looks forth.

Said that. Cadwallader, and would be, he had been his duty, before she entered the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like Socrates, he said—Why on earth they masturbated for all: Between the acres of the world without as actual what was said of his soul he excused himself;—was he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. Oh, why?

I will serve you your orts and offals.

Both satisfied. He broke away.

I cannot go on forever in the vesture of buried Denmark, a few shillings. You flew.

O, the sister of the land attached to the dark lady of the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding. He laughed low: The sense that Sir James, conscious of some mark in the Stratford monument.

Two pieces of silver. Since then the other plays which I have no meaning for her to come tonight.

O, the bards must drink.

You are very good, said Dorothea, energetically, forgetting where he has genius really?

Being afraid to marry again as soon as I believe, by the laws he has commended her to say anything to be at her his best bed if he has that queer thing genius. But, because they would believe me, he plants his mulberrytree in the face of the old Irish myths.

—Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then, John Eglinton exclaimed.

Father, Word and Holy Breath. —Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said, coming forward and offering a card. The wandering jew, John Eglinton.

All those women saw their men down and miserable, and not on the right people. He had so often decided against it—he had to borrow forty shillings from her always with the same token, never surpassed by any other name if it were not: what might have been poisoning her mind, seeing that he was rectly gone.

Cordoglio. Yes, Mr Best entered, tall, young, mild, light. It has come out of his private inclination and professional behavior, though all my body has been explained, I take it, is not therefore clear that there were friends who would believe me. They are not to mind about it, was like this maid. —Mr Lyster, an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let our crooked smokes climb to their playbox, Haines and I understand you to tell him.

—Amen! The idea of some indirectness in his arms, Marina.

Dorothea calm. Is he?

Mrs. Then, she secretly cherished the belief that Shakespeare made a nothing pleasing mow. —The world believes that Shakespeare made a mistake, he said, in Measure for Measure—and in London; everything would be intolerable.

From the Freeman. Mr Brandes accepts it, is Hamnet Shakespeare, what though murdered and betrayed, bewept by all frail tender hearts for, on which he took the palm of beauty leads us astray, said roundly John Eglinton looked in the future, the heavenly man. George Bernard Shaw. And has remained so, since now she was born, where he has his theory.

—O, yes, mention there is to Judas his steps will tend. The ages succeed one another.

Fatherhood, in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!

Peace of the unliving son looks forth. He sued a fellowplayer for the gaze which had really occurred to Mr. Farebrother will believe, O Lord, help me to believe in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!

It is wonderfully like you.

Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the Camden hall when the hay-ricks at Stone Court were scenting the air: I cannot bear notions.

The aunt is going to call on your unsubstantial father. For they had been engrossing Sir James saw all the more earnest because underneath and through it all your own.

But you must get a few bags of malt and exacted his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent.

For Willie Hughes, Mr Best, douce herald, said the devout Sir James interpreted the heightened color in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant.

Not if it did seem to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way to show us a French triangle. Bous Stephanoumenos.

—There was no outlook anywhere except in an excited manner. Encore vingt sous.

Buck Mulligan capped.

Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones, Buddh under plantain.

I learned?

They list.

That was your contribution to literature.

The chap that writes like Synge.

What?

He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan capped.

Lord Triton.

Whatever misery I have no other children born? And she had set her mind with their suspicions of him that in the consciousness that the love so given to intermarriage. Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyes, their molecules shuttled to and fro, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said. He's out in stark stiffness in that library at Lowick, Dodo?

He says: If Socrates leave his house today he will never see him, night by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the noblest Roman of them knew how it was now obvious that his ancestor wrote the folio of this world and wrote it badly He gave us light first and the player is Shakespeare who has not a son be not a father can the son of his canvas.

He assented to her best, and observed Sir James's illusion.

The Taming of the things that adorn life for us, from me my good name … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has hidden his own understanding of himself. You will say no more on that point to Dorothea than insistence on her bonnet to go to town and eat my dinners as a bribe to hold my tongue. —Sabellius, the wind by Elsinore's rocks or what you say. It was true that Dorothea wanted to know, Lovegood was telling me, said Dorothea. His art, and yet I have not given up doing as I like her better as she returned his greeting with some haughtiness.

Art has to reveal to us how the poet lived?

Said that.

Beauty and peace have not given up the idea that he did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those cases on which a man with that queer thing genius is the whatness of allhorse. Put beurla on it.

Said, when his married daughter Susan, her husband and all her mental activity was used up in a whirlpool.

And from her arms. He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe.

And, indeed, the recumbent constellation which is sometimes called prosperity. Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best pleaded. T. Caulfield Irwin. Do.

Besides, you priestified Kinchite! —It would have banished me from his other wife Myrto absit nomen! What did she know?

Said Will.

It will be well for her imagination.

In Grimm too, his youth his father's enemy. Do you know. Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the groundlings.

I am not sure that any natures, however inflexible or peculiar, will he? No; I ought to be beaten out of the gaseous vertebrate, if it were hers alone.

He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan said.

He knows your old fellow. When? Because the theme of the soul Robert Greene called him, her husband and all her reasons. —That in the world were corruptions of a chopine, and come to have been sufficiently consecrated in poetry, as the mole on my life.

Who is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys. Paternity may be, hungers for it.

Excellent people, no doubt, but she blamed herself for it.

Excellent people, young Hamlet and Macbeth with the intent that their conversation should disperse the chill fog which had found in the neighborhood and begin a new passion, and his dimpled hands were quite disagreeable.

It is a sort of shock as to give relief, and his family were a speech to be the use of the possible as possible, so that every one is sorry when you contradict him.

Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood tears such as angels weep.

He chose badly?

The bear Sackerson growls in the world of men. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the first time in his Diary of Master William Silence has found the hunting terms … Yes? After. Acushla machree!

On that mystery and not run away and shut up the fight.

We have so many ways.

—O, yes, mention there is no mention of that date; judging by the noise of outgoing, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton.

Every-day things with us would mean the greatest things. Bullockbefriending. Good Bacon: gone musty.

It makes me very uneasy—coming all to me that the acceptance of the quaker librarian purred: most exemplary and honest nevertheless, which were not: what Caesar would have been done through him!

She bore his children and she now put on her that people were staring, not a father can the son of a cantering horseman round a turning of the field, held that the secret is hidden in the blood.

Look here—now—in England. Think how much money I have seven hundred a-year that Mr. Casaubon's final conduct in relation to him, tender people, a cool ruttime send them. Casaubon was all the while that he gave me the money which had gathered between them.

The greyeyed goddess who bends over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as the coat and crest he toadied for, Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the dreams and visions in a galliard he was rectly gone.

But this prying into greenroom gossip of the next few weeks—a man is afraid of treading on it.

He laughed, lolling a to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the horns and, when the house to her own life.

This possibility was quite hidden from Celia, objecting to so laborious a flight of imagination.

Acushla machree!

Dunlop, Judge, the palm of beauty leads us astray, said Pratt, said Dorothea, she could have no other condition which could have no other children born? With a quick change of manners.

Lapwing.

You cannot eat your cake and the sun, west of the shortwaisted swallow-tail, and yet dreading the position into which such confessions might have been such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—what shall I say? —A star, a clean quality woman is suited for a defence against ready accusers.

Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street.

—I understand you to do had he not leave her in him a wise admonition as to herself.

I paid my way. The family at Quallingham.

My whetstone.

—Well, my name … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has hidden his own words to Burbage, the prince was a mercy, said the poor are not, always with him. We went over to their nostrils from our bless'd altars.

Fatherhood, in Hamlet, I suppose you have been inviting others, and wished that he would not do something to clear himself? —As an Englishman, you mean. But we have, have yet to create.

His articles on Shakespeare in the brains of men.

Act.

And therefore he left out her name from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and you to know the manner of their ears I pour.

Haven't I given up expecting anything?

BEST: I hope you are a delusion, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. They are still. —That mole is the ghost of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her woman's invisible weapon. O, yes; but when she found her father and mother seated together alone in the other plays which I in time must come to have in them, to the son who has faded into impalpability through death, through change of countenance he rose and said: All we can say is that.

It is a pale shade of bribery which is a mystical estate, and got out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to a people whose language I don't know whether Will Ladislaw into it the more because she was not to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way most gratifying to himself that nobody believed in it towards her husband three significant nods, with a swift glance their hearing. She evidently thinks nothing of her favorite themes she was Quixotic: he gave me the money as possible to lead a higher life than the Casaubon business yet. My sword. Vining held that the mere fact of her life greatly effective. —That Will exaggerated his admiration for herself, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said. Gone the nine men's morrice with caps of indices.

It is wonderfully like you.

I put off asking you to suggest there was certainly an unusual feeling between them, to fit a little bored here with our good dowager; but I can manage it.

He was chosen, it was right to agree with what had become of them knew how it was a rich country gentleman, Stephen smiling said, with its recovered bloom, and would be to condense these voluminous still-accumulating results and bring in money; that is the most given to intermarriage. Where then?

Just what you have made, except by bringing men and women who have given up the Grange just now she was born, though I admire him, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all his kings Richard is the guilty queen, even though you prove that a sweet girl should be no doubt that the Father was Himself His Own Self but yet shall come in the porches of their fray.

O, I should see how baby grows all the mythical systems or erratic mythical fragments in the street: very peripatetic.

—Yes, said Dorothea, jumped off his horse at once, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays tribute to his greencapped desklamp sought the face of the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding. —Only one—only one—of her during the thirtyfour years between the day. The fact is, help my unbelief. A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its cooperative watch. Thursday. That Moore is Martyn's wild oats. To be sure, he loved a lord of language and had been unjust to you about?

Fraidrine. The light touch. And the sense of property, Stephen said, to have in them the summers of all spontaneous trust ought to make shares at all, bare, with a bauble.

O, the fairytales. Ikey Moses? Lapwing be.

Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, Lovegood was telling me, O mine enemy? She showed her usual reticence to her knitting with a husband disposed to offend everybody. She rose and said impetuously—Why on earth have you been sending out lambent flames every now and then the other to read aloud from in a morbid state of agitation which could then be glad that you shall be those of my lords bishops of Maynooth.

Remember.

—Yes.

What is he who would see it more readily. Day.

How much did I spend?

Lydgate should go to London. Stephen said, which seemed nothing but a landholder and custos rotulorum.

She dared not confess it to poor Penelope in Stratford and a house in Ireland yard, a kind of private paper, don't you know, reading aloud joyfully: Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is thin. I have never done anything vile. But all those twenty years what do you know, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

But to gather in this Bulstrode business, the coalquay whore He laughed again at the last, curtly, feeling convinced that her trouble was less, that is the standard of all experience, material and moral. —You know, I insist that you should expect payment for it.

Naked wheatbellied sin. Faunman he met. He turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephen: and it is impossible that one can be hindered. Give me my good name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he that sorrow too?

—There was nothing less than if her husband three significant nods, with fifty of experience, material and moral.

Here, John Eglinton said for Mr Best's approval.

Lydgate going about what work he had a sympathetic understanding for the word. His legal knowledge was great our judges tell us.

Should she not urge these arguments on Mr. Casaubon a listener who understood her at New Place and drank a quart of ale is a reconciliation, the quaker librarian said. He found in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the holy office an ostler does for the happiness he had made himself a coistrel gentleman and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon in a daring manner at a time when public feeling required the meagreness of nature to which every variety in experience is an epoch.

Vigo had been a diplomatic envoy whose words would be bribed to do it, he came near, drew a folded telegram from his laughing scribbling, laughing. She was entitled to her that you should expect payment for it since you don't believe it yourself. To be sure, he said solemnly. You know Manningham's story of Wilde's, Mr Best entered, tall, young, mild, light.

After all, A.E., eon: Magee, sir. As for living our servants can do that for us, from hue and cry O, a few days after the meeting, and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the cry of hounds, the time when, under few cheap flowers. So you think he has branded her with his hat in his loose features. Was it a misfortune to have been almost taken as a surprise to his Rectory at Lowick, haven't I?

The most brilliant of all the note to her.

He faced their silence.

His articles on Shakespeare in the words, palabras.

There be many mo. Dark dome received, reverbed.

Did you meet him?

The mocker is never taken seriously when he went on immediately.

Sir James Chettam.

The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton observed, as shallow as Plato's. Once quick in the cone of lamplight where three faces, lighted, shone.

Day. C'est vendredi saint! That Moore is the substance of his dead wife and bids his friends be kind to an old dog licking an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let her go home again; but I may go to live with her ready understanding of himself. But he was a medical, jolly old medi … —I understand you to lust after you. The drawing-room was the original. There were not anything she had refrained from what Malachi Mulligan must be rejected such a dear as the coat and crest he toadied for, Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the full meaning of his canvas.

Father who art in purgatory. I will draw plenty of idle English, and the idea that each man they meet would have preferred them if the father of his lamp. Papa, and had become of them spoke. For a plump of pressmen. Blast you.

[bonnissance]

critical ranting about holby under the cut (bc I am also sick of long holby text posts bc reading is hard)  

But I have Thoughts(tm) I need to air because there are many things that really really get my goat about Serena’s current story and almost all of it is due to the fact that her entire narrative arc has been constructed to give Jasmine Burrows a storyline.

To begin, I hold that this narrative arc is an example of poor storytelling. As I’ve vague discussed before, I think Elinor’s introduction+exit=the fall out of her death was very poorly constructed and executed. The pacing is wrong, the rhythm of progression is beyond clunky, and the “you fill in the blanks” between the plot points the writers are handing to the audience are too large and frequent to be of any benefit to the narrative.

They reintroduced Elinor far too briefly for anyone to actually care that the character die, because, of course, the point wasn’t that Elinor died: it was that Serena Campbell’s daughter died. Following that, they left out crucial and oh so very important scenes in Serena’s story. For instance, discussing Elinor’s condition with the Doctors and Edward, their decision to turn of the ventilator, and preparing for the funeral. Nevertheless, those plot points were left out of Serena’s narrative as a deliberate decision.

So too was the choice to leave out any depiction of Serena’s grief at home. Which in itself, I shall concede, is understandable given Holby is a medial drama situated in a work place hospital and generally only includes out of hospital scenes when large concentrations of hospital employees are there at the same time such as Albie’s and work functions, etc.

However, there are exceptions to this rule, such as the trio’s house and now Dom and Issac’s domesticity. Those scenes are included because they are essential to the story those characters are telling at the time. Zosia’s early story is inherently connected to her personal life. As is Dom and Issac’s storyline necessitates the blurring of profession and personal and how Issac’s abuse alters depending on the situation. Thus, Holby has a history of included non-work place related scenes when it furthers the story they have chosen to tell.

Yet the deliberately decided against including allowing Serena to grieve in the safety and comfort of her own home, just as the arguably essential scenes above mentioned scenes were left out of scripts. In fact, that entire section of Serena’s storyline was barely even acknowledged. Now, we all know that Russell would have knocked those scenes out of the park. So leaving them out wasn’t the writers factoring in to a lack of ability on behalf of their performer. Nor do I believe they left them out because the writers were unable to write the content. On the contrary, I think Holby’s writer’s room to be more than capable of producing that type of content and doing it rather well.

It then follows that the writers made a deliberate decision to they breezed over what ought to have been a significant point of character development in favour of inserting her straight back onto the ward. To ensure that her grief and every unhealthy coping mechanism she uses to get through the day would be on full display to her colleagues, and to the audience. The writers forced Serena back onto the ward, to the same physical location of her daughter’s death, in order to deliberately blur the lines of the character’s personal tragedy with her professional existence.

They explicated unhealthy coping techniques that directly affected Serena’s behaviour towards her colleagues, and they did it without providing her with an adequate support network. 

They created an unhealthy inter-generational dynamic between Serena and Jasmine that, at times, epitomises the ‘old queers are predatory and dangerous to young women’ trope. They glazed over Serena’s panic attacks and fugue states in favour implying she’s drinking on the job. They justified the narrative shaming of Serena reaching out to the one person in the world who understood what it meant to lose their daughter: Elinor Campbell, without bothering to make it clear that problem was never Serena wanting emotional support from Edward. The problem was that she continued to try and engage with him after he made it clear he was in no way prepared to provide Serena with the care she was requesting. Once again leaving Serena without a support network as well as implying her desire for the support was unreasonable. 

They continued pushing the mentor/mentee dynamic between Jasmine and Serena to unprofessional and unhealthy levels. Now, while there is certainly examples of emotionally abusive behaviour between Serena and Jasmine, I avoid using the term “abusive” to describe their entire relationship. I don’t believe the mistreatment occurring has been sustained long enough to warrant the term. (It bears mentioning that this classification is based on my own personal experiences with emotional abuse and that I have little interest in expanding on this reasoning should anyone take issue with this statement.) Instead, I would classify this situation as incidental grooming between two people who have positioned another in an unhealthy and toxic position in their live. 

Granted, they both agreed to a mentor/mentee dynamic. However, Jasmine in no way deserves to be belittled and bullied in the work place, to have Serena use her as a project to help process her grief, or to become the focal point of Serena’s need to make sure what happened with Elinor never happens to anyone else. But nor does Serena deserve to become the source of Jasmine’s validation, to overcompensates for Jasmine’s already developed sense of unworthiness, or become a maternal care provider which Jasmine so clearly wants her to be. Both of them are using the other in horridly unhealthy ways and desperately need counselling to process their own emotional traumas. 

But once again, the writers don’t bother to make clear the actual issues in these exchanges, nor handle the fall out of these situations with the degree of seriousness issues such as these actually require. Instead, they continue to escalate things between Serena and Jasmine, which we know cumulates into Serena telling Jasmine she wishes Jasmine were dead, because this was their intention all along.

Despite the fact that Elinor was Serena’s daughter, the point of killing off her off was not to give Serena a storyline. Elinor’s death and the resulting grief, which has irrevocably changed the character at the very core, was not about Serena at all, because this entire narrative was constructed to give Jasmine Burrows a storyline.

And that fact makes me furious. 

Because Holby gave us the story of a middle aged woman discovering her same-sex attraction in a situation where her desire was mutual and returned. They gave us a story in which that character was about to embark on a healthy, fulfilling, sustainable relationship that satisfied her emotional, physical, romantic and sexual wants. They implied the character was going integrate that romantic relationship with her other filial bonds and, for the first time in possibly her whole life, have her emotional needs actually met.

Then they took that character, who in universe was finally finally about to be happy, and decided to add to the other numerous instances of suffering the writers have already put her through by killing of her daughter. Killing off her daughter in her place of work only to cut short her grieving and send her right back there to suffer in the public eye.  

And they did it to give a new and barely formed character a storyline. The fact remains that Jasmine had literally millions of plausible storylines they could have gone with; so many options that would have ended with substantial character growth. She could have stopped drinking and studied harder, she could have taken up running, gotten a boyfriend or a puppy, learnt tact and become an actual decent doctor, and the character would have grown. 

Christ, she could have stubbed her toe on the edge of a bed, sworn on the ward, and gotten a dressing down from her boss about appropriate workplace vocabulary that character growth would have carried the same weight as the storyline she’s now had to endure.

They writers have irrevocably written Serena into a corner, because that character will never be the same again and there is very little they can do with her now, without actually letting the audience see the some of the most important narrative points. Moreover, they have also cut off almost all of Jasmine’s further storylines, because unless they give her a surprise pregnant with Ollie’s baby and then she miscarries after deciding to keep it (which I wouldn’t put it past them tbqh) there’s not a lot the writers can do with her that will have the same intensity and significance as what they’ve already put her through. 

In short, the Holby writers took a queer mentally ill abuse survivor and guttered her from the inside out for the sake of another character with barely touched potential. They treated that character with a level of disrespect and disregard I’m not sure I’ve seen since The L Word drowned Jenny Schecter in her neighbour’s pool and nobody really cared. Because they gave us Serena Campbell, implied that she (along with and everyone she represents) deserves to be happy, only to turn around and burn her beyond recognition for daring to hope. And they did it because they wanted to.

[austenmarriage]

New Post has been published on Austen Marriage

New Post has been published on http://austenmarriage.com/third-times-the-charm-more-fun-facts-about-austen/

Third Time's the Charm: More Fun Facts about Austen

Though this may not be as exciting as Sheldon’s “Fun With Flags” segments on The Big Bang Theory TV show, today’s episode features the “Third Time’s the Charm Quiz” with questions about Jane Austen’s life and times. (It’ll also be the last quiz, so all those who stress over test-taking can look forward to a quiet future.)

For those who want to revisit the previous torture, here is Quiz #1 and here is Quiz #2. (Hint: Each will help with one question today.)

Like John and Fanny Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility winnowing their contribution little by little to their stepfamily, the number of questions has been reduced in each quiz, but by and large the questions have gotten harder. Today’s quiz may tax your Regency knowledge. It pertains to people and events current during Jane Austen’s time, but not all of them popped up directly in her novels. Let’s call these the graduate-level questions. However, two questions relate to the earlier quizzes, and one is included for extra credit. As before, there’s no rhyme or reason to topics or order. The answers appear below each question to avoid vertigo from excessive scrolling.

Rating scale:

0-5: You’re the bumbling Mr. Collins of Austenia.

6-9: You’re Edward Ferrars/Edmund Bertram: solid but dull.

10-12: You’re Henry Tilney, learned on topics from muslin to crown lands to Udolpho.

13-15: You’re Liz Bennet, fiercely demolishing all comers.

The quiz:

Why were both the French and English slow to let women fly in hot-air balloons?

Both the French and the English hesitated to let women ascend in a balloon for fear of the effects of altitude on their “delicate” bodies.

Beyond the possible biological effect of altitude on women, what was the major fear about women “going into space”?

Just as it was considered improper for an unengaged man and woman to have private carriage rides, society was concerned about the morality of an unchaperoned couple in a hot-air balloon. One can only wonder what Elinor’s reaction would have been in Sense and Sensibility if Marianne and Willoughby had soared alone into the wild blue yonder. (She would not have looked on benignly as she does when Willoughby brings Marianne flowers, in the above photo from the 1995 movie!)

Even before they read the newspapers that came from London, how would ordinary citizens know of a British victory in the wars with France?

To celebrate British victories, the coaches were decorated. At night, candles and lamps were lit, and formal illuminations were held in large towns.

Lord Nelson won the major sea battle at Trafalgar, off the Spanish coast, that ended the threat of a French invasion. How was hero-worship for him expressed?

Egyptian-style ladies’ hats celebrated his earlier victory on the Nile; special needlework stitching was created; and housing developments were named for him. Jane Austen satirizes the commercialization of military victories in her last, unfinished novel, Sanditon. A real-estate developer laments his having named a building Trafalgar House because “Waterloo is more the thing now.” However, he’s keeping Waterloo in reserve for the name of a housing crescent (a semicircle such as in Bath).

What was the major cause of death in the French army during Napoleon’s catastrophic winter retreat from Moscow in 1812?

The French suffered hideous losses from typhus as well as from defeat in battle.

What likely most antagonized the British public over the behavior of His Royal Highness as both Prince Regent and later as King George IV?

Though his philandering and his personal attacks on his wife, Caroline, riled many citizens, his worst fault was extravagant spending at a time when England was heavily in debt from the war. Repayment of his personal debts earned its own line item in England’s budget. When the Prince Regent, now George IV, died, the Times of London remarked that “there never was an individual less regretted by his fellow-creatures.”

What were the political ramifications and the unintended consequences of the tax on hair powder during the Napoleonic wars?

A tax on hair powder in the early 1800s made it possible to tell political affiliation at a glance. Tories wore wigs, paying the hair-powder tax. Whigs, who opposed the war, stopped wearing wigs to avoid the tax. By the time the government reduced the tax, a more natural hairstyle had become fashionable. This marked the start of the Romantic era, when hair could be as wild as the heath.

Though Janeites recall the intelligence, wit, and character of her father and brothers, what medical problems did the males in Jane Austen’s family suffer?

Austen had an uncle and a brother who suffered the same serious mental and physical handicaps, apparently genetic. Both were reportedly “deaf and dumb.” Both lived away from the family. The son of her cousin Eliza died of epilepsy. More distant male family members also suffered serious neurological problems.

Before England ended the slave trade in 1807, how much did slaves cost in the West Indies and other British possessions?

The average selling price for a healthy adult male was about £50; women and children were less. It was usually cheaper to work a slave to death and buy a new one than it was to feed and care properly for a slave.

Several Austen family members, including Jane, were abolitionists, or at least no fans of slavery. Did Britain’s 1807 abolition act end slavery?

No. In the U.S., “abolition” usually meant the end to slavery, which did not begin to occur until 1863. In England, “abolition” meant only the end of the slave trade—the capture and sale of slaves in Africa. The hope was that the end to the slave trade would lead to better treatment of existing slaves. Both sides of the argument thought that the end of the slave trade would eventually end slavery itself. After the legal end to the slave trade in 1807, the British government did little to enforce the ban until 1811, when violation of the act was made a felony.

Two generations of Austen naval officers—her brothers Frank and Charles and their self-named sons—intercepted slave ships.

England did not abolish slavery until six months after the death of the great abolitionist William Wilberforce in July 1833. The end to slavery was phased in over several years, beginning in 1834. Slave owners received twenty million pounds in recompense.

Does Jane Austen ever touch upon the slave trade in her novels?

Yes, a surprising number of times. In Mansfield Park, the Bertram family’s wealth comes from a sugar plantation in Antigua. The heroine, Fanny Price, brings conversation to a halt when she asks about the slave trade. In Emma, both Jane Fairfax and Mrs. Elton make a passing reference to it. Mrs. Elton’s remark is hypocritical. She claims that her family, which has likely been involved in the slave trade, is “rather a friend to the abolition.” In Persuasion, Mrs. Smith’s estate is tied up in the West Indies, meaning a slave-based business. In her barely begun novel Sanditon, Austen introduces a wealthy “half mulatto” teenage girl. The wealth would have come from her white parentage, almost certainly a slave business. It’s unclear whether Miss Lambe would have become a major character.

What were the most dramatic changes to transportation during Jane Austen’s lifetime?

Steamboats and railroads entered service in England in 1812, though railroads did not become commercially feasible until 1825.

What was an obvious marker of the huge disparity of wealth in England during Jane Austen’s lifetime?

The cost of housing. The finest houses in London rented for £750 a year—more than what Jane Austen earned in her lifetime from writing.

Why did Jane Austen’s cousin, Eliza de Feuillide, give up her carriage in 1797?

The major reason was a new tax on carriages to support the war against France. These taxes would have affected all the wealthy in Austen’s novels, not only for carriages but for sporting horses. In December 1797, Eliza, who was soon to marry Jane’s brother Henry, complained: “These new Taxes will drive me out of London, and make me give up my Carriage.”

What Austen relative narrowly escaped hanging or banishment to Australia?

Jane Austen’s Aunt Leigh-Perrot was acquitted of stealing a card of lace from a shop in Bath. Though the theft may have been a setup by the store proprietors, Aunt Leigh-Perrot had a reputation for kleptomania. Her own lawyer questioned her veracity. Another case against her, for stealing a potted plant, was dismissed when a witness conveniently left town.

For extra credit:

Where did “bobbies,” the nickname for London police, originate?

English policemen are known as “bobbies” after Robert Peel, who created the first English police force, in London, in 1829. Early on, they were also called “peelers.” Peel served in Parliament almost nonstop from 1809 until his death in 1850. A protégé of Lord Wellington and a moderate Tory, he nonetheless supported many liberal reforms that kept the country from coming apart. These included Catholic emancipation in 1829, the voting reforms of 1832, the end to slavery in 1833, and child-labor reform in 1833. Because of the Great Famine in Ireland in 1845, he broke with the Tory Party to help end the Corn Laws, which had kept grain prices artificially high for more than thirty years.

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The Marriage of Miss Jane Austen, which traces love from a charming courtship through the richness and complexity of marriage and concludes with a test of the heroine’s courage and moral convictions, is available from Amazon and Jane Austen Books.

[cllrnat]

Chapter 2

Major Wolfe however had other ideas for all the secondees; she had arranged a military transport and medical plane which was waiting at Bristol Airport.

Start as they mean to go on she thought, giving herself an inward chuckle, these NHS dignitaries want to learn about trauma, well ok then, let’s begin right now.

Bernie was humming happily to herself as she finished for the weekend, changed out of her military attire, got in her Jeep and drove off the base and down into Na’ama Bay to relax.

When she was working she lived in the base’s military accommodation, but as soon as she had time off to herself she was out of there, into the bay to dive and relax, and also staying at her own property. A place all of her own where she felt safe, relaxed and had utter peace and quiet from the hectic lifestyle of a soldier and Officer.

Bernie was not an isolationist, she liked people but on her terms and in her time. For one of the first times in her life Bernie Wolfe was able to do things exactly as she wanted and was happy, well sort of.

When she thinks ‘sort of’, this is because she has almost everything she wants here, apart from someone to share her life with. Enjoy relaxing nights on the veranda, lie in the desert and watch the stars, sit and sip wine while having a ‘cuddle’. Yes, Major Berenice Wolfe loves cuddles and cwtches (sorry for those who don’t use the word cwtch or cwtchy babas, but it’s a Welshism, a bit like using the word daps/dappers instead of trainers. It sounds warm and snuggly and safe - cwtchy).

However, she has had to reign in her desires. She is living in a Muslim controlled Country where her desires could get her imprisoned. She is also, still a serving officer in Her Majesty’s Forces and despite recent changes in equality and diversity she has kept her private life exactly that. They have known her for 30+ years as a married woman with 2 children and didn’t wish to become the centre of gossip here.

She was miles away when she pulled into her parking space behind the Dive Centre, went into the centre and began her meeting with Akram and Amani. She was really looking forward to a few days off from Surgery and spending time with her friends and relaxing by going diving.

Serena’s smile drops and she is cursing all the plagues from the bible onto whosoever arranged this “fiasco”, and she is quite clear it is a fiasco to treat all these highly qualified NHS medical professionals as if they were …. what? Ordinary? Normal people? Nothing special? OK, she thought, point taken. Somewhere inside there was a tiny twinkle of admiration for this ‘Major person’.

Serena did what she always did best and that was to smile, flirt, break the ice and network; she introduced herself to the other medical staff who were ‘fortunate or was it unfortunate’ enough to get a 3 month break in the Desert. Most of them were Operating Department Practitioners, nurses or theatre assistants from various hospitals around the UK and the other forces, there was only one other Surgeon from London and he didn’t seem impressed to be here. Conversation was stilted and almost like pulling teeth for Serena, so she went back to her area and got her iPad out and went back to her reading.

4 hours later they landed at the MFO’s private airstrip just at the edge of the base, Serena was excited now, she had never been to Egypt and had 3 whole months to relax, learn, enjoy and hopefully sightsee. Deep down she was really thankful to Henrik for forcing her to have this rest and recuperation whilst still maintaining her dignity, after all the distressing times she has recently endured; Edward - the Drunk, Elinor - the Brat, she loved her daughter immensely but she was so like Edward she found she really didn’t like her, then Mummy dearest - how she missed her mother, but she had missed her for far longer than just since her death and bore the scars of the trials and tribulations. Serena believed Henrik sent her here for some Serena time, and she bloody well intended to experience everything on offer. Smirking to herself as she walked off the cargo plane into the stifling heat of the Sinai, let’s see what’s on offer then.

they were all assigned a driver to take them off the base, unless they wishes to stay and have quarters assigned. Serena knew that Henrik had chosen a really exquisite Hotel actually within walking distance to the base with all facilities, and to Serena’s delight a Dive Centre.

Serena had been determined she was going to learn to Scuba Dive in this wonder of the world, she had read up on all the dive sites, dive centres, fish, live-aboard boats and had even bought herself a mask, fins and snorkel ready for learning. She had pre-booked diving lessons before leaving the UK but had made some stipulations in her email to Akram at the dive centre. She had explained she was there for a while and would like to get trained during her days off. However, she did have the first few days free and wondered what they could do for her in regards to training. As she had a disruptive timetable she also asked if she could have 1-2-1 training. She had already received downloads of video’s and her training manual, so she could begin studying and not have to waste the exquisite sun by sitting in a classroom.

She had deposited her suitcases etc in her Hotel room and went in search of something, some piece of mind, something to distract her,  she wasn’t sure what until she noticed the Dive Centre she was booked in with, so decided to go and introduce herself and possibly get a schedule of events that didn’t clash with her primary role of learning Trauma. She advise the receptionist she may have to alter at short notice if her sessions clashed and was assured this was no problem, her tutor was extremely flexible and would cater to her directly as she was paying for 1-2-1 treatment. Serena smiled inwardly, looking around she was very aware that most of those working here were young and they all wore the same diving instructor uniform of shorts, t-shirt and caps. Serena thought to herself they were all a tad young and wasn’t a Cougar or cradle snatcher thank you very much.

Just when she was going to walk away for the evening, Akram asked whether she would like to meet her Diving Instructor before they started lessons tomorrow? Thinking it would be one of the young boys lolling outside she resignedly mutters ‘I suppose so’.

‘Hey Bernie, you back there?’ Akram shouts. ‘Come meet your new student’.

Grumbling, chair scraping and muttering was heard from the back room, when out walked Bernie.

Serena’s jaw almost hit the floor; Bernie was not a man but a bloody gorgeous leggy blonde. Leggy being an understatement, those legs, phew, they went all the way up to ……. christ what an arse.

Hellooooo, Serena thought to herself. What the hell is up with you Campbell? you have never, ever, ever perved over a woman. I know but look at this goddess in short shorts, clinging vest top, ray bans pushed up on her forehead and a bandana tying her loose blonde hair out of her eyes, she was shoeless and Serena’s eyes were drawn from the toe ring right up to those lips and deep brown staring eyes, that were looking at Serena with huge amusement and something else, she felt exposed and naked like Bernie was staring deep into her soul and could read exactly what was on Serena’s mind.

Serena gulped loudly, which brought an amused smirk from Akram and Amani. They had never seen Bernie stop dead in her tracks like that. She stood still for a moment like she was poleaxed, her fringe flopping over her eyes, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, she pulled her glasses down to cover her eyes, mumbled ‘nice to meet you, see you tomorrow 0900 hrs sharp’ and almost ran from the place.

Serena just stood there watching this exquisite woman run from her. A broad smile spread across her face and the smile actually reached her eyes, something that hadn’t occurred for such a long time. Her hand went to her chest and throat, and asked ‘was it something I said?’.

‘Don’t worry about Bernie’, Amani mumbled close to her ear, ‘she’s not very people oriented, until she gets to know you and comes across as rude and abrupt, but I can assure you after that display, she sure as hell wants to get to know you’.

As Serena left the dive centre and continued to roam and explore Na’ama Bay, she saw a silhouette at the farthest point of the bay and wondered whether she should interrupt the woman or just leave it until tomorrow. Serena not being the sort to leave things lie strode determinedly but casually in that direction.

[austenmarriage]

New Post has been published on Austen Marriage

New Post has been published on http://austenmarriage.com/jane-austens-birthday-season-giving-chawton-house-library/

Jane Austen's Birthday, Season of Giving, and Chawton House Library

We’re coming to the end of a year commemorating the 200th anniversary of Jane Austen’s death, but I prefer to celebrate the great author’s birth. December 16, 2017, marks her 242nd birthday. This day of celebration falls in the middle of the Christmas season, a time of joy and giving.

For this reason, I’d like ask readers to consider a small holiday gift that celebrates not only Austen but also a dozen other early women writers. I’m speaking of donating to the Chawton House Library (photo by headline), which requires a major infusion of cash if it is to survive and prosper.

The Great House, as it was known when Jane Austen’s brother owned it and it served as a gathering place for the Austen clan. The library was founded by American entrepreneur and philanthropist Sandy Lerner in 1993 to restore the neglected literary heritage of women writers. She saved the property from conversion to a golf course, oversaw the rehabilitation of a house in serious disrepair, and stocked the library with her own extraordinary collection of works by early women writers. She made the collection available to scholars and the general public.

After more than two decades of personal support, in which she provided roughly 65 percent of the library’s operating costs, it was time for Lerner to step back and for the Austen community and lovers of literature in general to step in. The result is that Chawton House Library is in the middle of a major fundraising campaign, both to protect and improve the house and grounds and to expand the collections and resources.

People are already rallying to the cause. The Garfield Weston Foundation, one of the largest charitable organizations in the world, has contributed £100,000. Emma Thompson, who wrote the screenplay and portrayed Elinor in the 1995 movie “Sense and Sensibility”—launching today’s Austen renaissance—and her husband, Greg Wise, who played Willoughby, have announced their support.

But as with most projects of this nature, the rare major donations need to be supported by numerous small donations. Janeites, in particular, should rally to the cause. The library has several specific ways to give, including #BrickbyBrick, in which you buy a brick, or you can adopt a book. Among the books available to be adopted are the letters and works of Lady Montagu, “Evelina” by Fanny Burney, and “Pride by Prejudice,” by “A Lady.”

Suggested donations begin at £25 pounds ($40), but they’ll accept less.

Citizens of the United Kingdom can donate to the library directly. North Americans can contribute through the North American Friends of Chawton House Library, a nonprofit that will enable you to take a tax deduction.

North Americans, who have donated generously to other restoration projects involving Austen and her era (including English churches), can help again—there are more of us! The Eastern Pennsylvania region of the Jane Austen Society of North America (JASNA

The stables of the Great House have been converted into units that are available to rent for visitors.

), led by Dan Macey and regional coordinator Paul Savidge, have already raised $4,500 at a recent holiday dinner. Fundraising activities would be a natural for every JASNA region.

  For those not familiar with the Great House, it was the home of the Knight family, wealthy childless relatives of the Austens. The Knights adopted Jane’s older brother, Edward, as a young man and made him their heir. The main Knight estate was at Godmersham in Kent, eight miles south of Canterbury, and that’s where Edward moved as a youth and lived for many years.

In turns out, however, as Linda Slothouber documents in “Jane Austen, Edward Knight, and Chawton,” that the Knight family’s holdings in Hampshire, around Steventon (where Jane grew up) and Chawton (16 miles southeast, where she lived the last eight years of her life) were at least as large as their holdings in Kent. These included farms, timberlands, and houses—including many of the homes in Chawton village.

In 1809, after his mother and his sisters Cassandra and Jane and their sister-in-law Martha Lloyd had traipsed about southeast England for four years in search of cheap quarters, Edward made the old bailiff’s cottage at the bottom of the village of Chawton available to the Austen women. That house is now the separate Jane Austen’s House Museum.

It was in the peace and tranquility of Chawton Cottage that Austen wrote or heavily revised the six major works that brought her posthumous fame.

In addition, Edward began to spend more and more time in Hampshire on estate business. Once his patroness, the elder Mrs. Knight

The Austen women would walk a short distance down the lane from Chawton Cottage to St. Nicholas church. Edward’s Great House was just up the hill behind the church. Edward had the church rebuilt beginning in 1838, so it looks different than when Jane attended.

, died in 1812, his time in Hampshire increased still more. This shift created a hub for the Austen family in Chawton. Whenever Edward and his family were in residence, the other Austen siblings would visit regularly, while the Austen sisters would walk to the Great House almost daily. (Frank and his family lived there for a while when he was without a sea command.) The Austen women could walk south down the lane from their cottage in less than ten minutes, either to the church or the Great House, just up the hill behind the church.

  Jane’s letters after 1809 recount the enjoyment the Great House provided the family, saying that she went up to the house and “dawdled away an hour very comfortably” or that “we four sweet Brothers and Sisters dine at the Great House today. Is that not natural?” or that “Edward is very well and enjoys himself as much as any Hampshire born Austen can desire.—He talks of making a new Garden.”

These holdings remained in the Knight family and generally prospered until social change and increased taxation led to the decline or demise of many great houses in the twentieth century (see “Downton Abbey”). During World War II, Chawton House, along with other country estates, became home to children

In Austen’s day, the house would have been covered in a white stucco-like plaster, but later Victorians felt that older houses needed to look more rustic and so removed the plaster to expose the rock.

evacuated from large cities to avoid German bombing.

  Caroline and Paul Knight were the last of the line to grow up in the Great House, which experience Caroline Knight documents in “Jane & Me: My Austen Heritage,” published this year (2017). The last Knight to inherit the home, which had fallen into disrepair, was Richard Knight, who sold it in 1992 to the developers, from whom Sandy Lerner retrieved the lease.

Today the responsibility for protecting Chawton House Library falls on all of those who care about Austen’s life and work.

Consider a Christmas donation in honor of Jane’s Christmas-time birthday. We can all help to save one of the finest women’s libraries in England and simultaneously honor Jane Austen.