#no but for real we need 'same in Englis'

[darkerthanblack-666]

#.videos #käärijä #arrested for being too hot 🥵 #no but for real we need 'same in Englis' #anyone?

[svyat0s]

Okay, we got the flash mob, I like to be called out on them. Okay, it's fm #singingbooks.

Bring up book excerpts, where your characters sing.

I'll post pieces separately, probably today, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow))))

I won't call to flashmob anyone, but who will join - I will gladly read everyone))) just poke me.

Well. I have the singing in three books at a glance.

In "Extra puzzles.To where you are waited" (a strait to the portrait of the hero, to confirm the psychtype), in "I am here" (plot-forming), well, and in "#Bottomless" of course, my averche sings, the book is all about him, and he sings. For me, of course, he does it the best. Well, because he sings for me)))

- Sing! Sing![1] - the passing Germans shout sun-drunkly.

It's a sunny day. Averche smiles at me, I sit so that he can see me with his side vision.

"What are they shouting?" Asen asks.

"Sing," I translate.

He shakes his head. He plays very well, but no one notices, as I said, usually, because people only see Mariyan, come up to shake Mariyan's hand, thank Mariyan, ask Mariyan questions. They want to touch the beauty. And Mariyan accustomed. Accustomed to the admiration that everyone needs. So much so that he stopped appreciating it.

I was surprised at first, because where he and I come from, we are taught the laws of life, we are taught to be grateful, we are taught not to push away an outstretched hand and to give it to the one who has fallen, we are taught to appreciate the attention given to us, and even more so, admiration. And so I looked at the way Mariyan behaves with people and thought - why are you so queen, my boy! I wondered for a long time. And then I realized, after Munich, already. All my life I have been yelling at every corner with a stream of admiration that he is the most beautiful. And all the garbage stuck, wanting to suck on the stream itself. Like, if they're near, maybe they'll get part of admiration addressed to him, or maybe it'll just taste good. Because for all eternity my averche was not needed by anyone but me. And suddenly all need him, furore tsatsa[7]. Although, of course, as a person, with all the flaws, doubts, fears and failures, he is still only needed by me. Pay attention, if someone suddenly begins to be liked by everyone, it means he has someone who needs him sincerely, and everyone else already likes someone's love for him itself. Because we love admiration so much and want to relate to it in any way we can.

"Sing something," I say, still smiling.

He nods and starts "Bella ciao[2]" for some reason. I marvel, I didn't realize the guys knew that song. I nod approvingly and smile. Well of course, as you would expect, Averche doesn't know the lyrics. He only sings the chorus, but they know how to play the melody, and the Germans gather, start singing along, someone knows the lyrics, the crowd sings along, someone dances. Seeing the anti-fascist joy in the center of Munich, couples dancing in front of the Feldherrnhalle[3], is very gratifying. Remembering the terrible and precise words of Ilya Ehrenburg[4], it is always a joy to see the celebration of life.

There is a song by Yaroslav Yevdokimov, "May Waltz," a dizzying royal voice, words by Mikhail Yasen. The author of the words was there, in Vienna in the forty-fifth year, so when you listen to the song, you can perfectly imagine how it was. And now, in Munich, to "Goodbye, Beautiful", I saw May of the forty-fifth for real.

Of course, we can hold any mood we want, I and he. Sometimes we schlep the hell out of that game at the Elephant[5] Café, stealing moments of our joy from the physical universe. Mariyan looks at me, smiles, stops repeating "Bella ciao" and spills out the anti-fascist, only Bulgarian, song "Nikola"[6]. The Germans, as if realizing that the idea of the song is the same, they smile and continue dancing. Someone wipes their tears. After the song, everyone claps. Someone comes up to him, says something, he answers in English. Someone switches to English. Someone comes to me, I smile, explain and answer in German. The Germans are joyful, they ask me questions. We laugh. Mariyan, periodically, warily and angrily looks in my direction.

A German woman comes up and starts speaking in Russian. She has a nice accent, it's obvious that she hasn't spoken it for a long time, but she speaks well. Mariyan also switches to Russian. He wonders how she knows the language so well. She's from East Germany. She was an intern in Moscow, studied Russian at the University. She has been living in Munich for many years now, and has a rich husband. She tells us with longing how good it was in East Germany, there was sense, she says, there was friendship, there was hope that there would be no hostility.

"But now everything is fake and there's nothing to live for," she waves her hand. "But let's live, maybe we'll live to time, eh?"

"Of course we will. Eternity is long," I say in German.

She laughs, shakes my hand, buys a disk.

We do not have such a culture, for a hundred years of human life, the desire to humiliate another has been etched out of people who stand farthest from the monkey. In the young USSR there were signs: "don't insult a catering worker with a tip". I'm ashamed to tip street musicians. I'm ashamed to tip waiters. I get, I get everything, that the shame should not be on me and not on the person I am tipping, the shame should be on the governments under which people are forced to rely on handouts. I get really well that under capitalism it is considered normal to humiliate a person with a handouts. I have watched in horror as people teach their children, barely able to walk, to handout. I'm not ashamed of myself, of course, I'm ashamed to humiliate a human being. I wouldn't want to get a handout for my labor. I would like to get payment for it. So, of course, I didn't handout Mariyan. I called him back into my life and told him he could use everything I had.

As she walks away, Mariyan looks at me in amazement.

"What kind of people... where do people like this come from? I mean, these are different people, completely different. It's like they're made differently."

"It's the red gene," I say. "Such people are the furthest along in evolutionary development from apes to human."

"Why are they like that? How did they get like that here?" Mariyan continued to smile with familiar admiration. It is our joyful surprise when we meet a human being with a spark of Human.

That's where our moment ends. His eyes are fading. "Don't go away..." - I turn away so he won't hear. Because otherwise he couldn't leave.

On the collage is the Feldhernhalle itself, and the place nearby where we played)) and the singer himself))))

[1] Sing. - sing (ger.)

[2]An Italian folk song of members of the Resistance movement in the Modena Mountains during World War II, which gained worldwide fame in the late 1940s.

[3]Hall of Bavarian warlords. The Feldherrnhalle carried considerable meaning under National Socialism.

[4]But among the fifty million victims of the Second World War there is not one: fascism. He survived May 1945, he ached, he moped, but he survived.

During the war years, I repeated day after day: we must come to Germany to destroy fascism. I was afraid that all the sacrifices, the exploits of the Soviet people, the bravery of the partisans of Poland, Yugoslavia, France, the grief and pride of London, the furnaces of Auschwitz, the rivers of blood - all this could remain the Bengal fire of victory, an episode of history, if low, impure politics prevailed again.

I wrote in 1944: "The French writer Georges Bernanos, a militant Catholic, rejecting with indignation the attempts of some democrats to stand up for fascism, wrote in "La Marseillaise": "Before the war, a large part of public opinion in England, in America, in France justified, supported, praised fascism. I repeat - not only allowed fascism, but promoted it in the hope, I say foolishly, of controlling this plague, of using it against its rivals and competitors... Munich was not mere foolishness. Munich was the dastardly denouement of a speculative scheme..." Unfortunately, there are still people who want to keep the contagion "in reserve", only diluting the broth in which the plague bacteria breed... We must remember: fascism was born from the greed and stupidity of some, from the cunning and cowardice of others. If humanity wants to end the bloody nightmare of these years, it must end fascism. If fascism is left somewhere to be divorced, rivers of blood will flow again in ten or twenty years... Fascism is a terrible cancerous tumor, it cannot be treated with mineral water, it must be removed. I do not believe in the good heart of people who cry over the executioners, these supposed do-gooders are preparing the death of millions of innocents."

Ilya Ehrenburg.

"People, Years, Life."

[5]A touching love scene from the movie 17 Moments of Spring, when the Soviet spy, undercover - Stirlitz meets his wife, they are not allowed to approach each other, cannot talk, can only look at each other. They haven't seen each other in a very long time.

[6]Nikola Kostadinov Parapunov was a member of the Bulgarian Communist Party, a partisan commander, and a figure in the anti-fascist movement.

[7] Russian slang, it means arrogant person, who express their arrogance brightly.

#Bottomless can be read here: https://albireo-mkg.com/product/bottomless

It's in Russian, but in English coming soon

[lu-undy]

Another one hehe, it's ok to take time 😅 Dell made some time traveling machine then he called Mundy to try it, Mundy decide to go back in in the day 1942 in France where Lucien was in a 20s-30years old. Mundy tried to talk the young Lucien 😁

Alright, this took the life and floof out of me. At first I didn’t like it but then I just couldn’t stop! Here it is, and I hope you enjoy it!! Also, I changed the year to be in the fifties or so ^^ Be warned, it’s more than 5k words ^^!

"You sure it works?" Sniper scratched his brow.

"Yeah." Engie answered confidently.

"And there's no danger?"

"Yeah, I saw Edison himself yesterday and Medic had a check-up on me. Nothing's wrong."

Sniper and Engineer were in the Texan's garage, in front of a tall box that looked like an old time telephone booth.

"So, where d'you wanna go? Or rather, when and where?" Engie asked with a proud smile. That telephone box was a time machine. 

Sniper frowned and tilted his head thinking hard. He could go back a decade or so, even a few decades, to see his parents again. Hell, he could go back and see real dinosaurs if he wanted to!

"Paris, 1953." Was his answer. Engie raised an eyebrow. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, Christmas day, wherever the French Ministry of Defense is." 

"Why?"

Sniper looked away. 

"There's a monument I want to see."

Engie half guessed where it was all going. 

"Alrighty then, get in, when you hear a beep, count to twenty and then open the door. Wherever you end up with that machine, you need to remember where it was, cause that's your only ticket back." 

"Anything I shouldn't do?" Sniper asked. 

"Like what?" Engie chuckled. 

"I don't know, to not change the past and stuff like that?" 

"Nah, it's fine. Unless you kill someone… Yeah, don't get your hands on a rifle and kill someone. And don't meet yourself. God knows what would happen… I guess that should do." 

"Right, kill no one and don't see any family, got it." Sniper repeated to himself and Engie opened the door for him to jump in. 

"And how long do I have?" Sniper asked. 

"Here, take this watch."

"Looks like Spy's." 

"Yeah, but it doesn't just turn you invisible. Press the button on the side three times and I'll know you're back in the machine and ready to make it back."

"Okay, I think I got it." Sniper took the watch and put it on. Then he stepped in the machine. Oddly enough, it looked slightly bigger on the inside than what it seemed at first. There wasn't much inside, its walls were all blue, the ceiling was white and there was a chair and a coat hanger. Sniper removed his hat and sleeveless jacket to put himself at ease before sitting on the chair. Engie gave him a smile and a thumbs up before shutting the door. Soon, Sniper heard a beep. 

"Right, here we go. One, two, three, four, five…"

When he reached twenty, he stood up and went to the door again. 

"Paris, 1953. He should be about thirty-odd years old now." 

Mundy put his hand on the door handle and pulled on it a bit. The door creaked slightly and he took a peek. Wherever he had landed was very dark. After making sure there was no one around he got out. 

"Ouch!" 

He bumped on something and heard wooden things tumble and fall on the floor. 

"Where the hell am I…?" 

He walked trying to grope for his way to any source of light while his back was hunched slightly. Sniper soon found the wall in front of him. His hands roamed on it until -

"Ah! Gotcha!" He flipped the switch and the lightbulb above his head lit up. 

"What the…? Engie, I think you got it wrong, mate…" He said, as if Englie could hear him. He realised he had landed in a broom closet. The wooden clinking sounds he had heard were the broomsticks falling to the floor. 

"Let's see." He pushed the door and looked left and right. "Bloody hell, he might have got it right after all." 

The walls were very tall and wooden. Portraits and oil paintings were hung there with elegant lamps with golden handles, that were decorated with tinsel and Christmas ornaments. The floor was wooden as well and as he looked at the ceiling, Sniper saw intricate white mouldings. 

"That's one hell of a posh building." Sniper exited the broom closet and walked around. His heels resonated on the wooden floor. Soon, he could hear the distant noise of incomprehensible chattering. 

"Where are you all…?" He followed the noises until he could see that he clearly was standing somewhere he shouldn't be. All the guests to the Christmas party were at the end of the corridor he was walking through. 

"Monsieur?" 

[Sir?]

A voice made him freeze. He turned and faced a waiter elegantly dressed in black and white. 

"Aucun invité n'est autorisé ici." 

Bloody hell they speak real French… Sniper thought. He blushed.

"Uh, you speak English?" 

"Yes, I was saying that no guests were allowed here." The waiter answered with an accent that made Spy look like he had none. 

"Ah, well, I-I uh… I was watching the paintings and I got carried away, my bad, really. Could you show me where the rest of the guests are? I'm afraid I got lost a bit." 

"But of course, pray follow me." 

Mundy stayed on the waiter's heels and soon entered a wide room with possibly more than a hundred people impeccably dressed, the sound of their chats rising in the air. There was a stage with some musicians playing in the background too, adding to the audible and visible Christmas atmosphere.

"There you are, Sir."

"Ah, thanks." 

Mundy looked at his attire and rolled his eyes. His Mann Co. red polo shirt and brown trousers wouldn't do. He looked right and left and quickly found the restroom. He headed there and slipped in. 

Sniper saw a man who happened to be roughly his height and build. He seemed already quite drunk judging by the way he struggled to maintain his balance, trying to redo his bowtie. Mundy made sure there was no one else in the cubicles before acting. 

"Bonjour." He tried his best to hide his accent but could almost hear Spy laugh at him for it… 

"Bonsoir." The man answered before squinting at his reflection on the mirror again.

[Good evening]

Mundy went to the restroom's main door and looked through the window. No one was immediately coming. He went for the poor drunk man trying to adjust his bowtie and knocked him unconscious before dragging him to one of the cubicles. He then swapped their clothes. Of course he kept his aviator glasses. 

When he emerged from the restroom again, he was wearing a black suit and bowtie with a white shirt. He even had kept the handkerchief in the jacket pocket. Now he could face it all and look for the man he had gone through all that trouble for. 

The main room with the guests was swarming with people. Men dressed sharp and ladies wearing colourful and elegant - albeit for him quite old-fashioned - dresses. 

"Right, now, time to hunt for him… Where are you?" He said to himself as he walked through people. He didn't know where to find him but Sniper knew he was wearing a black suit and tie… which didn't help at all because that was the case for most if not all of the male guests. 

"Argh, bugger, how the hell am I going to find you… If you were a panther, I'd know where to start but - oh, wait… You're a panther, you are a panther! I just need to hunt the same thing as you do and I'll find you. Pff, what the hell d'you hunt for…?"

Mundy pondered for a minute when he heard a group of women laugh on his right. He looked there and smiled to himself. 

"Of course, sheilas!" 

He headed in their direction and stopped walking when his eyes fell on a man, about a foot shorter than him, in a black suit and tie, a cigarette between his lips and his ice blue, almost grey eyes shining like he had rarely seen them before. His pitch black, silk hair was elegantly combed back except for a rebel front tuft that elegantly fell between his eyes. 

Mundy smiled. He had found him. He had found young Spy!

He stayed there and watched him from a safe distance, with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy smile on his lips. A waiter passed by and offered him some drinks but Mundy didn't even see him. All he could see was that elegant man, being what defined him best, the best womanizer on the face of Earth. 

Sometimes, a man would come and take a lady away from him but the man with the piercing eyes would wink at her and even if Mundy wasn't the one that this wink was destined to, he would blush.

"Almost fifteen years before and you still can't make the first step, hm?" 

Mundy's blood froze. He recognised the suave voice with the French accent. But how? He had his eyes on Spy right now, it couldn't be him talking and at the same time being five metres away, busy seducing any woman who happened to meet his gaze!

Mundy felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head. 

"What the hell are you doin' here?!" 

Spy, the real one - well, the old one - was standing next to him as elegantly dressed as his younger self. 

"I could ask you the same question, you early stalker." 

"Pff…" Mundy chuckled. 

"So, what are you up to, Sniper? And what is that suit? Does it belong to the unconscious man in the restroom?"

"Well…" 

"Next time, knock out someone who actually is the same size as you."

"What are you talkin' about?" Sniper looked down at himself. "It's my size!"

"Mon Dieu, the keenest and quickest eyes I have seen and yet you cannot spot a man that is built like you…" 

[My God]

"Oi, I could, I just didn't have much choice, alright?"

"Of course, blame it on fate." 

They both chuckled at their own banter. 

"But you didn't tell me," Spy turned his piercing eyes to his friend. "What brings the man in a van in Paris in the year of our Lord 1953, hm?"

"I don't know really… I just… I wanted to see it with my own eyes."

"The photograph I showed you wasn't enough?"

"N-no, that's not what I meant. I mean… It's better with colours, and for real." 

Spy smiled and handed him a glass of champagne, which he gladly accepted. But Sniper's eyes never left Spy, the young one.

"What do you see?"

"I… The picture didn't lie, you really looked like that."

Spy raised a confused eyebrow.

"Did you think I tampered with the picture to look different?"

"N-no, I… Argh, I can't speak sometimes, I just sound stupid."

Spy smirked. He knew why Sniper was losing his words. 

"Ah, look at me… Black hair, no lines on my face yet, and as proud as a peacock." Spy felt nostalgic.

"Not really different from you now, eh." 

"Very poor lie." Spy snickered. 

"Not for the proud bit." Sniper teased. 

"Tsk…" 

They chuckled and tipped their glasses before taking a sip. 

"Ah, the champagne from the Ministry's receptions…"

"Takes you back, eh?" Sniper asked.

"You have no idea." Spy answered, a bittersweet smile on his lips. "But tell me."

"What?" 

"Why here and now?" Spy asked. "You could have chosen any destination, any time. You could have seen wonderful things, met legendary people, and yet, you chose Paris in the winter of the year 1953."

Sniper stared at the champagne glass in his hand. 

"It's that picture you showed me the other day when we were chattin'."

"What about it?" 

"I don't know… It stayed stuck to my head and I kept wondering."

"What would it look like with colours?" Spy asked. 

"Yeah, well, that and, uh… I wanted to know how you were before. If you've always been like that." 

"Like what?" 

"Like the spooky bastard you are, obviously!" 

They chuckled. 

"Well, why don't you go and see for yourself?" Spy suggested. "Go on then, go and talk to me."

"W-what should I say?" 

"This is entirely up to you, but I cannot talk to myself so go ahead, I will just stay here and hope I can remember the content of that conversation, as I cannot partake in it or watch it from close enough.

"B-but I don't know what to say…"

"Do it like I would." Spy smirked. "Improvise."

"Thanks for the shit advice, eh." 

"Fine, then a true piece of advice from me to you, to go and talk to the younger me - Mon Dieu, how strange this sounds - is go and seduce me."

"What?!" 

Spy couldn't hold back his giggle.

"Stop messin' with me."

"That look on your face was worth it, mon ami."

[My friend.]

"Screw you, Spook."

Spy laughed further. Mundy took a deep breath and wiped his sweaty hands on his thighs. 

"R-right, I'll try something."

Spy smiled maliciously and followed Sniper with his eyes. When he saw Mundy started speaking, he clicked on his watch and turned invisible before getting closer. He wasn't going to miss Sniper taking the first step on him for anything in the world. Also, now that he thought about it, he had just acted like the wingman to… his younger self? 

"H-hey there." Mundy said, his back slightly hunched and his cheeks pink already.

"Bonsoir." The younger Spy turned to face him.

[Good evening.]

Spy's eyes had always been that impressive then, eh?

"Gosh, even your voice is the same…"

The Frenchman raised an eyebrow. 

"The same as what?" 

"And the accent! Bloody hell, it's really you!" 

"Do I know you, perhaps?" 

"Ah, uh, n-not yet."

"Obviously." The younger Spy answered. "What is your name?"

"Mundy, you?" 

"Lucien." 

"Really? Is that your name? Not one of those Jean-Pierre or other names like a train with loads of carts?"

The man with the black hair chuckled and Mundy saw his pearly white teeth.

"Oui, I can assure you that Lucien is my name. Does it not suit me?" He asked jokingly.

"Yeah, nah, sorry, I'm just a bit… confused." Mundy answered.

"I can see that." 

Mundy looked around. Only a few ladies were orbiting around Lucien now but it was still too much for him and he didn't seem comfortable talking in front of them. 

"D'you… D'you mind if we go somewhere a bit more calm?"

Lucien looked around him and smiled. There was something he liked about the strange man with the sideburns talking to him, something strangely attractive, or attractively strange.

"Follow me." 

Mundy nodded and after crossing the room and taking some stairs, they found an empty smoking room. 

"Do you smoke?" 

"Sometimes." 

"Here," Lucien flipped his cigarette case open, "Help yourself."

"Good Lord, even the case is the same… and the cigs too…!" Mundy said as he took a cigarette. 

Lucien smiled and lit them both before they took a seat. 

"You seem to compare me to someone else a lot." 

"Yeah, well, there's this bloke I know." Mundy started. "He uh… He looks like you quite a bit. He's just a bit older." 

"Mundy?" 

Mundy's heart skipped a beat. Hearing his name uttered by that man, in that voice, that accent… It was surreal. 

"Yeah?" 

"Who are you? No doubt you know me, but I don't think I have ever seen you before."

"Y-yeah, well, uhm…" Mundy scratched the back of his head.

"And you clearly are not on the guest list either. I know every single one of the guests today. None of them are called Mundy. Besides, you clearly didn't make much effort to prepare for this reception."

Mundy's jaw dropped and Lucien puffed on his cigarette.

"H-how d'you know?" 

"Your beard resembles more a messy stubble than anything else. It is clearly not taken care of, your hair either. And this suit…" Lucien's eyes were as piercing as Spy's. "You have never worn a proper suit before. You didn't adjust the bowtie or the cuffs properly and I think it is slightly too large for you, even though the fashion nowadays leans towards larger cuts, this is too much."

"Bloody hell, it's really you…" Mundy muttered under his breath. 

"If you are talking about the man who is the best intelligence agent France has ever seen, oui, c'est moi."

[Yes, it is me.]

Lucien put a proud hand on his chest and bowed his head with the most smug grin.

"And still arrogant at that!" 

"Still?" 

"Yeah, well, uh… Nevermind." 

"But please, tell me." Lucien insisted. 

"What?" 

"Who are you?" Lucien repeated. 

"You don't wanna know how a bloke like me ended up in the French Ministry of Defense's Christmas party?"

"I'll find it out soon enough." Lucien said confidently. "Besides, you don't seem to be a threat."

"Nah, I'm not."

"If you didn't come here to threaten the security of my country, then it is none of my concern. I am more intrigued by who you really are."

"I'm…" Mundy closed his eyes for a minute, just to gather his thoughts. "You don't know it but uh… You've changed my life. You've changed my life, my days and my nights."

Lucien frowned. 

"You've… Argh… Remember I told you you look like someone I know?"

Lucien chuckled. 

"You never really stopped saying so." 

"Yeah, sorry, it's just… Anyway, that bloke who really looks like you… He uh… You taught him everything and if he is my friend now, it's because of you. Bloody hell, I hope he is my friend. I see him like a friend but…"

Lucien puffed on his cigarette and listened carefully. Mundy shook his head as if to shoo away his thoughts.

"Anyway, he's just a friend, eh. But, uh…"

"You clearly have fallen for him." Lucien calmly said and Mundy bit his lip in embarrassment. "There is no shame to have."

"How d'you know?" Mundy asked. "How d'you know I…"

"It's the way you can't find your words. And trust me, I have seen more people possessed by love than my age lets you guess." 

Mundy rolled up his eyes. 

Oh I know… He thought. 

"But please, come back to the tale you were telling me." 

"Yeah, well, that bloke, he, uh… I really like him b-but he doesn't know it, nah."

"Can't you tell him?"

"No! Oh God, no… He's a magnet for sheilas, that bloke, a bit like you."

Lucien smiled proudly.

"That doesn't automatically prevent him from appreciating the company of men." He answered. 

"You think so?" 

"But of course. Personally, I don't mind much. Well, to be nearer the truth, I should say that I couldn't care less. Man, woman… Bah, same difference as you say in English." 

Mundy opened wide eyes. 

"Y-you like blokes?" 

"I can, oui." 

"Oh my God…" Mundy slapped his forehead. 

"What does it have to do with me, though?" Lucien asked. 

"Everything! I mean, no, I mean… See, I know the ladies run after you like bees after honey, I saw them back there. So I'm thinking that it's maybe the same for my friend, eh?" 

"Maybe, but to each their own." 

"C-can I ask you something?" Mundy hesitantly asked. 

"You just did." Lucien calmly answered. "But go ahead."

"If I told you that uh, ahem, somewhere, or sometime, you'd meet an Aussie and uh… He'd be about my height, he wouldn't have a clue how to dress up or do anything fancy, and uh… H-he'd be a hunter, he'd live in a van, going through the desert and hunting."

"Hunting what?" 

"Depends, he'd take contracts. Most of the time it's just pest control but occasionally, he'd take down a man… N-not because he wants to but because he's just good with a rifle and… And some people you can't let live like… Like some of the Nazis you caught." 

Lucien's eyebrows jumped.

"Hm, I see." 

"What would you think of that man?" Mundy asked, fumbling with his fingers on the dark brown leather armchair.

Lucien smirked. 

"I would want to know him." Mundy's eyebrows jumped. "I've always had a weakness for the exotic and foreign. An Australian man, you say? That sounds exciting. Besides, if he is as shy and clumsy as you are, then I would definitely go and talk to him."

"Really?" 

"Oui. You seem to doubt my words a lot, but I am sincere." Lucien smiled. "What profit would I get to not be honest?"

"Y-yeah, I guess you're right." 

"May I ask, this man your heart is worried about, he is here, in this reception, non?" 

"S-sort of, yeah." Mundy frowned. "But how did you guess?"

Lucien gave him that trademarked smile of his, the one where his eyes read him as if he was naked.

"For a man as shy as you seem to be, to manage to burst in a reception such as this, with a suit that you 'borrowed' and talking to a stranger like me, well, it's either a lot of money that you are after, or something utterly priceless." 

Mundy was flabbergasted. Spy's mind had always been that sharp then, it was insane. 

"And when I say something utterly priceless, I mean someone that you attached yourself so deeply that you cannot possibly think of anyone else. You, Monsieur Mundy, are quite the romantic type, despite the lack of self-care. Oui, romantic and very faithful."

"How the hell can you guess all that?" 

"It is no guess. As I said, despite your timid personality, you didn't hesitate to breach these extremely protected walls for just a glimpse maybe, of the man your heart is now racing for. That is for the romantic side. The faithful one I get from your glasses."

"My glasses?" 

"You went to the trouble of stealing this suit from someone, but you insist on wearing your own glasses, which could not match less well with the whole attire. Shy and romantic makes you as faithful in love as you are to your glasses." Lucien crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray as a professor would end the demonstration of a mathematical theorem.

"Bloody hell…" 

"Do I know him?" Lucien asked.

"Who?" 

"The man you love."

"Yeah… Yeah you know him very well actually."

"May I know who it is?" 

"N-nah, not yet… Not in the next fifteen-odd years, heh…" Mundy chuckled slightly. "Maybe one day I'll tell you."

"Should I then wait for a decade and a half?" 

"I'm afraid so." Mundy answered smiling. 

"I am way too impatient for that." 

"Oh I know…" 

"And if I really am like that friend of yours, then he surely knows that you love him." 

Mundy's smile vanished. 

"What?" 

"Mundy, you are atrociously easy to read."

"So you know who-?"

"Oui." Lucien stood up and went to the impressive dark wooden door. He looked back at Mundy who had lowered his head and was staring at his boots. They didn't match with the black suit trousers. "Mundy?" 

He raised his head. 

"See you in fifteen years." And Lucien exited the room, leaving Mundy alone. He looked down at his boots again, trying to understand what he should take from that conversation. 

"So, how did you find me?" 

Mundy got startled and put a hand on his chest as a silhouette emerged from a thin cloud.

"Bloody hell, Spook! I thought you were still downstairs!"

"You heard me say it here and now, I have always been awfully impatient." Spy joked as he sat down on the armchair that his younger self had used a minute ago.

"Yeah, well… Were you here all along?" 

"Oui."

"You heard everything?"

"And saw it too."

Mundy winced and looked away. He leaned back on his armchair and averted his gaze from Spy at all cost. 

"And now I have a vague memory of it as well. After all, you were talking to me. But tell me, how did you find me?" 

"Same as now." Mundy said. 

Spy felt his embarrassment. 

"So were you." He answered before silence fell. 

"Spook?" 

"Oui?"

"What he said about… The bloke I talked about. Is it true?"

"Oui." 

"So you know?"

"Oui." 

"Have you - have you known for a long time?"

"Quite a while." Spy answered simply. 

"How long?" 

"A few weeks now, roughly, but it strangely feels like decades." Spy scratched his head.

"Bugger…" Mundy hid his face in his hands. 

"Sniper?"

"What?" 

"Don't feel angry."

"I'm not, I'm just… I'm confused, alright? I don't know what to do, what to think anymore!"

"Why?" Spy asked calmly.

"Because you know!" Sniper stood up and headed away. He left the room and went down the stairs, rushing past people. He pushed them out of his way without apologising. He crossed the room when a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned and was about to roar at whoever dared stop him but his rage just vanished. 

"Mundy." 

He looked at his feet. 

"Look at me."

"Nah, mate, I-I can't." 

"Look at him." A voice whispered in his ear and Mundy yielded.

"Mundy," The young Lucien continued. "When I meet you again, in fifteen years, please remind me." 

"Of what?" 

"Remind me of the chat we had today." 

"You think you'll forget it?"

"Non. I won't ever forget the man who broke into the reception under the highest security just to have a chat with me." The younger Lucien tapped his shoulder. "Goodbye."

Mundy nodded and left. When he got in the time machine again, he clicked three times on his watch and counted to twenty...

That night, he spent it thinking in utter silence, in his van. Mundy needed to calm his racing brain but he couldn't help it, it was running as fast as a hamster in a wheel. 

Spy knew the truth. More than that, he had been knowing for the past fifteen-odd years now… 

A knock broke his train of thought. 

"Bugger off." 

The door opened against his expectations and his will. It revealed the silhouette of a man in a suit. Mundy sighed as Lucien entered and shut the door after him. He sat down on his worn out couch, next to him. 

"Mundy, we need to talk."

"I think I said everything already. You need to talk."

"Correct. I need to talk to you and ask you if you are upset or angry against me."

"No."

"But you still lock yourself up here because…?"

"Because I don't know what else to do." 

"Ah, I see." Lucien nodded. "May I tell you what I think?"

Mundy nodded, albeit still not looking at Lucien, who swiftly removed his mask. 

"We both know your side of the story. Aren't you curious to know mine?" 

Mundy shrugged. 

"Really? You don't want to know?" Lucien insisted. 

"What would it change?"

"You can't know if you don't know my version of the story." Lucien answered calmly and Mundy sighed. 

"Alright, go ahead."

Lucien cleared his throat. They were both sitting in the dark in the van and the small windows of it only let a very little amount of moonlight through. 

"You have impressed me today. Of all the places you could have gone to, of all the people… You could have chosen to visit your grandparents, your parents! And yet you chose Paris, 1953." 

Lucien paused. 

"I can only imagine how often you think of me, then; how obsessed you are with me. I don't take it strangely, countless people have before you. But you stand out, Mundy. There is one thing that that cohort of people do not share with you."

Mundy turned his head to ask why.

"Ever since I saw you at this reception, in 1953, your image never left me."

Mundy frowned. 

"The more I think about it, the more I think that in fact, you said it all in your first few words to me, in that smoking room. You said 'You have changed my life'. Did I? How so? Is it that I'm the first man you fall for?"

Lucien looked at Mundy's eyes. 

"Non, it's not that, I can see it in your eyes. What is it then?"

Mundy didn't answer. 

"Usually when I change people's lives, it is because I end it. But I didn't kill you and I never will, I can't. How did I change your life? Did you just mean that your mind was constantly busy with me? Was that it?" 

Again, Lucien looked for the answer in Mundy's eyes. 

"Non, it's not that." He sighed. "Whatever you meant by that is entirely up to you. I can but wonder. But I think you should know that I didn't tell you everything I thought back then, because I didn't know you as I do today."

Mundy raised a curious eyebrow. 

"When you asked me what I would think about an Australian man like you, I didn't tell you the entire truth. But it isn't because I wanted to lie. It is because back then, I didn't have all the truth. However, today, I do. Shall I tell you?" 

Mundy nodded slightly. 

"Bien." Lucien took a deep breath. "If I were to meet a man like you, I would first be curious as I naturally am. I would get to know you, through asking you directly, or digging around, on my own. But I confirm what I said fifteen years ago. I would definitely come and talk to you." 

Mundy was listening, his eyes riveted on the bit of sky through the window opposite them. 

"And what would I discover? I would confirm what I had guessed fifteen years ago already. You are shy and very faithful, but also passionate. And, growing older, I would realise that what lasts in life is what you have inside of you, not the shell outside. I would learn to accept the stubble and the sideburns, the hat and the glasses, the rifle and the van."

Lucien paused and smiled to himself. 

"More than that, I would fall for them all."

Mundy's heart jumped and his blood froze. 

"The van? I would try to spend more time there, if you are in. The rifle? Seeing it means that you are close by. The hat? Underneath it is a good man. The glasses? They hide beautiful, if shy, eyes. The sideburns? They are you as much as you are them. The hair? I would give a lot to feel it between my fingers."

Mundy's jaw had dropped as he stared at Lucien now, the shock of what he just said painted on his face. Lucien was still looking through the window. 

"I have fallen for you as much as you have for me. That is the difference between all these people who fell for me before you, and you. You, Mundy, and to put it bluntly... I find myself in love you."

Mundy put a hand on his mouth to cover his bewilderment. Silence fell. The Aussie was incapable of speech. 

"What you did today, or shall I say fifteen years ago, that is quite unlike you, Mundy. You behaved very bravely. Not to say that you are not courageous, non, I have seen you at work and you are remarkable. I mean for a man as shy as you to choose to tell me that you love me, even if it's fifteen years in advance… It takes some courage. Especially as I am sure that deep down you knew that however twisted you would make your story sound to me, I would understand that the message in its most essential form was 'I love you'."

Mundy sighed and Lucien wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

"I love you too, Mundy. You don't have to feel strange about it. You don't have to hold yourself back or think that whatever you feel for me is at best a dream or at worse, wasted." 

Lucien smiled before continuing. 

"And if you can accept the same man that you saw today but with fifteen more years, grey hair and lines on his face, then that poor old man would be delighted." 

Mundy looked at Lucien. 

"I…" He finally broke his silence. "I love you." 

"Thus fulfilling your promise." Lucien answered. 

"What promise?"

"You had said that in fifteen years you would tell me who was that man you kept in your heart." Lucien smiled. 

"Yeah, well… It's you."

"Likewise."

"But wait," Mundy frowned. "You knew I loved you and you waited fifteen years like that?"

"I didn't know if I would love you back. Even though, your clumsiness that night was absolutely charming and I did wish that I could find someone like you, someone spontaneous, almost naive, very raw in your emotions, very true to yourself."

"Your complete opposite, eh?" 

"Oui, indeed." They both chuckled. 

"But someone who is passionate, faithful and honest, someone who would be the reason I want to open my eyes every morning, if it is to spend the day with them."

"You're romantic too, eh?"

"Overly so. It is almost a curse." Lucien answered with a smile before looking back in Mundy's eyes. 

"I… I love that about you." Mundy said before leaning his head on Lucien's shoulder. "That, and all the rest actually."

"I am glad you do…" 

Mundy felt that the sentence was left hanging, as if Lucien wasn't sure how to end it. 

"...mon amour."

[...my love.]

Mundy closed his eyes and smiled. He blushed when he felt and heard Lucien kiss him on his hair.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #request 70

[moonprincemulti]

Suffering In Silence - Chapter 2

- 19 Sep 2020

- second chapter of a series (SIS)

- abused changbin x protective seungmin

- top seungmin x bottom changbin

- trigger!warning; violence, abuse

- creds to @monscastle for the edit

A few days passed and Changbin hadn't come to school like normal. His absence had definitely caught the attention of Seungmin, to the point he had even asked his friends if they had seen something suspicious. But Chan and Jisung hadn't seen something that was abnormal. "I think he had some kind of limp, maybe he sprained his ankle while running?" Jisung shrugged, looking at Chan to see if he knew something. Chan tilted his head. "A limp? I didn't see that.. I did see him rub his neck and back a few times, but when I asked him about it he just said he had slept in the wrong position." Seungmin sighed internally, getting worried about the smaller male. Seungmin didn't show his worry, however. His face staying just as emotionless as it normally was, and he nodded at his friends. "Could be he just caught a cold and he's throwing up like crazy." Jisung chuckled softly. "Ah, it's been a while since I had that." Chan looked at Jisung. "It sounds as if you like throwing up.." "No! I don't! I just- nevermind-" The boys turned their heads back to the books on their desks as the teacher walked inside. The teacher got their stuff ready, but Seungmin lifted his head slightly as he heard running footsteps in the hallway. Seconds later the bell rang, and at that moment the classroom door opened, revealing Changbin in a hurried mood. "I'm sorry I'm late!" The teacher looked up, frowning slightly at Changbin's sudden entrance. Changbin bowed multiple times, quickly walking to his seat and sitting down. The teacher took a deep breath and began the class. Changbin quietly got his books out, but he already felt people staring at him. He glanced around slightly, hoping the make-up he had used to cover up some marks didn't fade away because of his sweat. |××××××××××|××××××××××|

At their first break, Changbin sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair. He listened to the other students leaving the classroom, closing his eyes as he covered his face with his hands. He took a few deep breaths, trying to push away the pain in his lower back and thighs. He bit his lip, letting his hands down again and opening his eyes. "WHAT the hell-" Changbin jumped as Seungmin was standing right beside his desk. Changbin looked at the taller with disbelief. "You could've given me a warning." Changbin huffed and looked back at his desk. Seungmin just decided to say nothing and grab a chair, sitting down next to Changbin. "How have you been? Were you sick again?" "Yeah, yeah I was. Nausea, dizziness.. just the normal cold with some stomach flu." Changbin reacted plainly, making Seungmin doubt the truth of his words. Seungmin nodded and took a deep breath. "So uhm, you missed some stuff. We need to do a project for Engli-" "A project?!" Changbin looked at Seungmin with big eyes. Seungmin looked at him, not understanding his shock. "Yeah, a project. Don't worry, I said we would work together and did most of the stuff already." Seungmin gave Changbin a soft smile, something Changbin hadn't seen before. He just nodded and smiled back slightly. "Alright.. thanks I guess." Seungmin took a deep breath, not really good at handling a simpe thanks. "Yeah so, uhm, it's about what we think technology or families will be like in the next 10 years. We have to present it, either with a collage or poster, or presentation.. whatever we feel like." Changbin nodded as he listened, wondering why Seungmin would do all that hard work and still give him the credit as well. "And what did you.. uh, we choose? Technology or families?" Changbin bit his lip, Seungmin looking at him. "Families. I.. we thought it was an easier subject so.." Changbin chuckled fakely, shaking his head. "Yeah, easier huh.." Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows. "What? Is there something wrong with families?" "No not at all. It's just such a.. stereotypical concept." Changbin shrugged it off. Seungmin just let is slide and nodded. "I'll give you the text and if you study it and make sure you can present it without a cheat sheet, that would be great." Changbin sighed and ruffled through his hair. "I'll try that." Changbin stretched a bit and hissed very softly as he felt the pain in his lower back again. Seungmin noticed it and tilted his head. "Are you sure you're okay?" "Yeah I'm fine, don't worry. I slept on the couch for a while because I was sick so, it gave me some aches." Changbin smiled fakely, hearing the bell ring again. "Right, time for class. Bye for now." Seungmin wanted to say something, but just stood up and put the chair back. He walked back to his desk as the other students filled the classroom again. |××××××××××|××××××××××| Changbin sighed as he walked towards the school gates, hating that he had to go home already. He wished he could stay longer at school, but there was nothing to do for him anymore today. He put one hand in his pocket, just looking forward with a dreadful gaze. "Changbin!" Changbin slowed down slightly as he heard his name, turning his head to see who had called out to him. Seungmin jogged slightly to catch up with the smaller male, smiling gently at him. "Want me to walk you home?" Seungmin looked at Changbin, who instantly shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal. "No I'm fine. I can walk by myself. I don't live far." Changbin smiled fakely, hoping to reject Seungmin nicely. Seungmin kept walking next to him, tilting his head. "You sure? Where do you live?" Seungmin asked, curious if Changbin actually did live close or not. As they stepped out onto the street, Changbin pointed at neighbourhood to the left. "Just a few streets down from here. I swear, I'm fine on my own." Changbin said, hoping to make it clear that he didn't want anybody following him. He wasn't prepared to have Seungmin know where he lived. What if he came to his house uninvited and found out that.. No. Changbin could not have anybody snooping around. Seungmin smiled as the smaller pointed in the direction he had hoped it would be. "We live in the same neighbourhood. It's not an extra effort if we walk together then, we have to go into the same direction anyway." Changbin sighed and shook his head. "I told you, I don't need to have someone walk me home. I'm fine on my own." Changbin sped up a bit, hoping to lose the taller male. Seungmin frowned and sped up as well, finding Changbin's continuous rejectments a bit suspicious. "Changbin, honestly, it's not a big deal." "Don't follow me!" Changbin burst out, stopping his movements and turning to Seungmin. "I said no! Why won't you listen?" Seungmin looked at Changbin, taken aback by his sudden outburst.  "But.. We need to go the same way. I can't help but walk in this direction." Changbin felt his heartrate go up as he got nervous, trying to think of a solution. "Just.. ugh-" Changbin grunted and started walking again, annoyed by how anxious he felt. Seungmin sighed and walked after Changbin again. They were silent for a while, until they reached a crossing. Seungmin looked at Changbin, who was about to turn left. "Hey.. uh.. I need to go right here." Changbin just nodded, not slowing down his pace. "Uhm.. see you tomorrow? We can meet here at the stop sign to walk to school together..?" Seungmin just watched Changbin walk off, sighing deeply. To Seungmin, this was a loss. He wanted to know where Changbin lived, but the smaller made it obvious that he didn't want Seungmin to know something personal. Seungmin nodded and turned right, walking to his own home. He hoped he would see Changbin at the stop sign, but he had a feeling it wouldn't happen. Changbin walked home, but before he got close he checked to see if Seungmin hadn't followed him for real. He stopped and took the time to look around, trying to look into corners or hiding spots. When he was sure he was all alone, he ran the last few meters, just to get any chance of being followed out of the way. When he closed the front door behind him, reality suddenly sunk in. He gulped as he heard footsteps behind him. "What took you so long?" |××××××××××|××××××××××| The next morning, Seungmin was waiting by the stop sign, just like he had said. He sighed as it was getting late, and if Changbin didn't show up soon, Seungmin would have to walk to school alone. He wondered if Changbin had already gone to school and he was just waiting here for nothing. Seungmin bit his lip, deciding to wait for a few more minutes. "Really? You actually waited here for me?" Seungmin looked up and smiled as he saw Changbin walking towards him. "Yeah I did. We have to hurry up though, we don't want to be late." Changbin scoffed and just made his way towards the school, Seungmin quickly following after him. Seungmin was happy that they could walk to school together, but Changbin's expression made it clear that he was not in the mood. "Changbin? I have a question.." Seungmin spoke softly, wondering if this was the right timing. Changbin didn't turn his head or react in any way, making Seungmin doubt his words. "Uhm.. did you hear me?" Seungmin asked, somehow getting shy. Changbin sighed and nodded. "Yeah I did. What is it?" Seungmin looked down at his feet. "When is your birthday?" Seungmin was still looking down, not realizing Changbin had stopped in his tracks. Seungmin moved his head to look at Changbin, only to stop walking as well and turn around as he had walked past him. "What?" Changbin looked at Seungmin in horror, as if the taller was  a monster that was going to eat him. "Your birthday.. when is it?" Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding Changbin's shocked expression. It stayed silent between them, Changbin looking away from Seungmin and continuing to walk. Seungmin tilted his head, wondering why he didn't get an answer. Did he say it wrong? It was just a simple question, right? "Hey, Changbin." Seungmin jogged a bit to try and catch up with him again, but Changbin only seemed to quicken his pace. "Changbin! Just answer the question already! It's not that hard, is it?" Seungmin tried to reach out to grab something of Changbin, but right at that moment the smaller started to run. Changbin was clearly avoiding the topic, running away as if Seungmin wanted to hurt him. Seungmin groaned and stopped jogging, too out of breath to try and run after Changbin. He sighed and watched the smaller male run off into the distance. "Can I not ask for a birthday?" Seungmin asked himself softly, shaking his head. So many things about Changbin's behaviour was suspicious, but Seungmin couldn't think of anything that would cause him to be like this. He just kept walking, hoping he wouldn't be late to class now. |××××××××××|××××××××××| At lunch, Seungmin had expected Changbin to sit on his own in a corner, but to his surprise, Changbin had joined him at the table. Seungmin's friends looked at Changbin with curious eyes, but they were all too shy to say anything. It took a while before somebody had build up the courage to say anything. "So uhm, Changbin was it, right? Are you uh, coming to watch Seungmin's baseball practice this saturday?" Chan asked with a shy smile, quickly stuffing some bread in his mouth to keep him from saying anything stupid. Changbin looked at the other male, a bit unsure about what he should answer. "I'll.. I'll need to ask my dad.." Changbin smiled slightly as he thought of it, getting to look at how the taller played a sport. Seungmin was caught off guard by this sudden smile, his face showing the slightest flustered expression. Chan smirked as he saw this, nudging Seungmin. "Hey, somebody is happy to hear that." Seungmin gasped and looked at Chan. "Stop- It's just... It's nice to have someone come look at my practice, although you guys are usually way too loud." Changbin looked at Seungmin and bit his lip. "I hope my dad agrees. I've never seen you play.. it would be nice." Changbin looked back at his food, now suddenly regretting what he got into his head. His father would never let him go.. Changbin just ate his food in silence. Seungmin however was feeling butterflies in his stomach, eating his food with a smile. When Changbin came home that day, he gulped and took a deep breath, preparing for whatever was to happen. He put his schoolbag down, walking futher into the livingroom. His dad was watching tv, but turned it off as he saw Changbin walk in. "That took you long enough. I'm waiting for dinner, so hurry up." Changbin cleared his throat and nodded, but he didn't move from his spot. "Dad.. uhm. Can I go watch a baseball practice of my friend on saturday?" Changbin felt the nerves creep through his body, and they grew even more as his father got up and walked to him. Changbin closed his eyes, already preparing for some form of impact. The sudden fierce sting of his left cheek told Changbin everything he needed to know. He whimpered as his father grabbed his collar. "You ain't going nowhere, you imbecile." Changbin was dragged over to the couch, thrown on it with a hard push of his father. Changbin tried to turn around, but was grabbed by the collar once more. His father threw him on the ground, Changbin's head hitting the floor quite harshly. Changbin groaned and touched the now sore spot with his hand, his father chuckling darkly. "Already in pain?" Soon enough Changbin's father had kicked and hit his son until he was crying out in pain. Changbin trembled as he lay on the floor, feeling new bruises form on top of older bruises. He could feel the sting in his right eye, as his dad had given him a shiner. Changbin's father looked at him, shaking his head. "You're so weak. No wonder you killed your own mother." Changbin's father walked off to grab his next chosen method of 'teaching his son how to behave'. Changbin didn't even move, knowing he couldn't escape his fate anyway. "Maybe you haven't learned the answer to your questions yet. I guess I'll have to teach you it in a specific way. A way you won't ever forget it." Changbin heard his father coming back again, the sound of a lighter telling him what was going to happen next. His father pinned him down on the floor, his iron grip pushing the boy down against the hard surface. Changbin whimpered and tears started to glide down his cheeks. "Please no.." "No. That is exactly what I'm trying to teach you." Changbin's father rolled up Changbin's shirt, exposing the boy's marked back. Changbin coughed as his father blew out the cigarette smoke right into his face. "Let me spell it for you.." Changbin's father took the cigarette, placing it on Changbin's back. "N.." Changbin screamed out in pain as he felt the cigarette being dragged across his skin to form a letter. "O.." He cried out once more, the burning sensation getting rid of every bit of energy Changbin had left. "No. A big fat NO. You understand that?!" Changbin just nodded, only able to feel pain and misery. His father got off of him, finishing the cigarette like it had never been a torture method. He smirked at the sight of the young boy lying in the ground, the fresh red marks in the shape of the letters making him smile evilly. "It's on you forever now. The answer is always no." Changbin's father nodded and sighed deeply. "Damn, now I lost my cook.." Changbin just kept lying on the floor, whimpering in pain. He heard his father leave the house, locking the front door. He knew that his father would go drinking, something he would do if 'normal dinner' wasn't provided. Changbin had no energy left to get up, eventually giving into his exhaustion. He fell asleep on the floor, but even then he couldn't rest. He was tortured by nightmares, the fear of being woken up by his drunk father deeply integrated into his very soul.

#straykids #straykidsfanfic #seungmin #changbin #kimseungmin #seochangbin #abusedchangbin #protectiveseungmin #highschool #topseungminbottomchangbin #sis #sufferinginsilence #fanfic #kpop #seungbin #seungbinfanfic

[jilychemnerd]

The Christmas Guest

Prompt #3 - My mum found out you had nowhere to go for the Holidays and now you’re sitting opposite me at family dinner 

Rating PG(little swears) - College/University AU – 3616 words

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Lily Evans hated nicknames. She hated nicknames and they were ruining her life. Yes, as of 5 minutes ago, she had no strong feelings about them, but now? Now she hated them. What was wrong with the name Lily? Was is not sufficient? Sure, she didn’t much care for the flower themselves, but it was a pleasant name, only two syllables, easy to remember. Certainly, there was no real need for nicknames.

She stopped her internal diatribe against nicknames long enough to smile pleasantly and shake the hand of the very old but clearly very sweet woman in front of her, “It’s lovely to meet you Mrs. Potter.” She smoothed out her dress, took a deep breath, and followed the woman and her two sons into the carefully decorated mansion wondering how she managed to get herself into this situation.

4 months earlier. Psychology 101. Another degree requirement in a subject she cared nothing about. Seriously, nothing. She was doodling an unflattering cartoon on the syllabus of the stout professor as she read each and every word out loud to the class. The cartoon became less and less flattering with each syllabus line that was read to them, verbatim. Lily turned her head in the direction of a loud snort and found herself looking at the incredibly handsome man sitting next to her. Black hair, soft and long, a jawline that people would pay money for, and steely grey eyes… staring at her cartoon. He grinned, met her eye and winked as he held out his hand for her to shake and whispered, “Nice work there Red, reckon we’re in for a fun semester, eh?” She rolled her eyes at his very original nickname but shook his hand and said, “I s’pose we are, Black.” His smile faltered and he quickly dropped her hand, suddenly very interested in having a monotonous list read out loud to him. Lily was unsure what she could have said to upset him, but after 3 years of college she had learned that many of her classmates were simply strange, and returned to her doodle. When class was mercifully over, she began to pack up her bag when a hand grabbed her wrist. Outraged, she jerked her hand away and looked up at the same man from before whose steely eyes were now cold, “How do you know who I am.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A statement from someone she didn’t know. This person, although unfairly attractive, clearly had problems. Lily ignored him and tried to grab her bag to leave, but Mr. Attractive still required her attention. He received a look that would make most men quiver, but he simply again asked how she knew who he was. “I don’t bloody know what you’re talking about. Now let me leave.” Mr. Attractive, however, was undeterred, “You know my name. How.” Lily thought back to their short conversation and couldn’t remember calling him any name. He tried again, “How did you know I was a Black. Who are you?” Lily looked back up at him, not entirely sure, “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you called me Red so I called you Black.” As she gestured to her own hair and then his hair. He paused for a moment, thinking over what she said and then he suddenly barked out a laugh. Lily became more concerned as he doubled over laughing, this was certainly the least mentally stable college student she had met yet. She was already strategizing how best to avoid this person once more when he finally collected himself and held out his hand, “Sirius Black. Sorry for the trouble, Red.” Lily, more confused now than before, nodded and shook his hand before quickly bolting from the room.

The next class, Lily arrived early, as usual, and sat in the very middle of the room. She had considered her options and decided that Black seemed like the type who would refuse to sit anywhere but the back row, so sitting in the middle would prevent him from seeking her out again. Fortunately, Lily could not have been more wrong, and just before the professor entered, Black sat in the chair next to and grinned at her. Lily was uncomfortable through the entire class. Not only was she sitting next to someone who seemed rather volatile, this someone wasn’t even taking notes. He was just leaning back in his chair as the professor droned on. Thankfully, he wasn’t the type to interrupt during lecture, but when the professor paused to change the batteries in her pointer, he handed her a note. Lily couldn’t think of when he could have possibly composed a note as she had been acutely aware of his stillness throughout the entire class period. But, before she could read it, the pointer was back in action and the professor restarted her droning. At the end of class, Sirius looked her over and with raised eyebrows said “So?” Which prompted Lily to finally open and read his note, which prompted a snort that her sister would deem “highly unladylike.” She shook her head as she met his smug gaze and held out her hand to shake, “Are you sure Engli-” but before she could finish her question, he was shaking her hand and had interrupted her jovially with, “Yes, Red, I’m quite sure English is what I’m studying despite my mates insisting I belong in theater as I’m sure you were bound to suggest.” The utterly ridiculous note, while utterly ridiculous, was the start of an wonderful friendship:

Sirius Black. Family disappointment. English Major. Scorpio. Friends?

Present Day. It was the start of a friendship that Lily was regretting at his very moment as she sat in a clearly professionally decorated sitting room, complete with a roaring fire, many filled bookcases, one of many decorated pine trees she had seen on their way to the room, and a tea set probably worth more than her education. The room also contained Sirius Black (the traitor), and James Potter. While Lily had, in fact, agreed to spend her holiday with Black’s family, she was stunned to find out who his family was. She was aware that he had ran away from the Black’s themselves and that his brother in everything but blood, Prongs (again, let it be known, nicknames were the absolute worst), had taken him in at the young age of 16. While she was shocked and appalled to find out James Potter was the person behind the name Prongs, it seemed that James himself was equally confused that she was sitting in his home. The befuddled expression on his face when he opened his front door became more puzzled when Sirius pushed past him and enveloped her in a giant hug while exclaiming, “Red! You made it!” While Mrs. Potter welcomed her to their home, Lily heard a James confusedly say “Evans?” (Another nickname, honestly, what was so difficult about the name Lily?). Tea was served and Mrs. Potter sat beside Lily, asking polite questions which Lily answered while sneaking looks at the two other boys in the room who were huddled together and whispering fervently, looking up at her every few seconds. Mrs. Potter sensed the distraction despite Lily’s best attempts of focusing on their conversation and rose, asking if she and James had been acquainted, since she was there as Sirius’ guest. A question that, once again, took her back.

11 months ago. It was the first class at the new college for Lily and as she sat in a lecture hall, students milling in, waiting for the professor to arrive. Unfortunately, Lily was prone to day-dreaming and found herself thinking of the past couple weeks. Christmas break had been an absolute nightmare. Dishes had literally been thrown. And Lily knew she would never be able to spend holidays with her sister again. A few days before she would return to school, Lily had announced her decision to transfer to a new college, the loss of both her parents, while devastating, would allow her to collect more financial aid and attend the prestigious college she had dreamed of. Lily knew what loss felt like; after all, she lost her father in her final year of high school. But losing her mother just a couple short years later, felt so much worse. The weary and strained relationship with her sister was all she had left, until she made the announcement that she could complete her degree at a more prestigious school – which left her sister screaming and crying that by taking this opportunity, Lily was celebrating their mother’s death and was dancing on her grave as though this was the opportunity she had always been waiting for. This personal attack was more than Lily’s temper could take and battle ensued – ending with her brother-in-law throwing her bags outside and declaring she was to leave and never speak to them again, lest any more precious china be destroyed. Lily was left, cold, on the sidewalk, and alone. She managed to find a cheap hotel and a taxi to get her there, and spent her last night before orientation at her new college in tears.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by something incredibly hot and wet soaking through the back of her shirt. She sprang up and turned around to find a messy haired idiot with a horrified expression on his face and an upturned coffee cup spilled everywhere. The Idiot, in an act of true lunacy, ran his hand through his already-impossibly-messy hair, smirked at her, and said, “It seems my coffee wanted to catch your attention as much as I did.” And then had the audacity to wink. Lily was floored. This awful boy had spilled his coffee on her, ruining one of her few pairs of clothes, and instead of apologizing or attempting to make it better had decided to take the opportunity to hit on her and wink as though she should be thankful he had given her the attention. Speechless, for once unable to come up with a scathing reply, she glared at him as she packed up her things and moved to the other side of the room. She spent her entire first class at her new college being uncomfortably wet, full of rage, and smelling like coffee. Lily told herself over and over through the lecture that this was not a sign that she made a mistake transferring, this was a good opportunity, her parents would be proud of her. By the time the lecture was over, Lily was ready to wash off, re-read one of her favorite books to turn her day around, and never hear from The Idiot again. He made the mistake of seeking her out as she was walking out of class and Lily let her temper inform him exactly what she thought of him, “You neglectful prick with your oversize ego, I don’t know who you think you are, but instead of having the common decency to apologize when you’ve made a mistake you did the absolute worst thing. Women are not here for your pleasure and your pathetic attempt at flattery simply showed how much of an arrogant pig-headed moron you are. Stay away from me.” He was smart enough not to follow.

The next class, he sat a few rows behind her with one of his friends and, after the humiliation she dealt him, he decided to have some fun. He tore up bits of paper and balled them up, throwing them at her anytime the professor was distracted. She was silently fuming and her well-timed chirp of “Professor” caused said professor to turn around, just as The Idiot released his next projectile. The professor, luckily for Lily and unluckily for The Idiot, caught him and ejected him from her class with the orders that if he did such a thing again he would not be allowed back. Lily smugly enjoyed the dejected expression on her new nemesis’ face as he packed his things and left the room, leaving behind his friend who offered Lily a small smile. The next few weeks went by silently, the only new developments were The Idiot’s penchant for staring at her. She could sense eyes on her and would turn to catch him staring, always looking away quickly as though he hadn’t been caught. She participated in class, she enjoyed World History despite majoring in Chemistry, and the professor always addressed her as Miss Evans. She was surprised when, at the end of class, several weeks past their first meeting, The Idiot addressed her, “Evans!” She turned, ready to dress him down once again, but instead found that a large bag of coins was being pressed into her hands. He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair several times, clearly working up the courage to say something, and finally willed himself to speak, “Evans, I apologize for spilling my coffee on you, I, er, did not handle it well and should have done this before.” He paused as she looked down at the heavy bag she was now carrying. When she looked back up at him with a crease between her eyebrows, he continued, “It’s, er, it’s some change, you know, for the laundry machines? If I ruined the shirt I can give you more for a new one? Just, er, well I’m James.” Lily nodded and remarked that something about this disheveled idiot in front of her somehow kept surprising her speechless, that is, until he opened his mouth again. Apparently gaining confidence that Lily was not going to bawl him out again, his hand returned to his hair and the smirk returned to his face, “So, Evans, I was thinking. You, me -” but was quickly interrupted by Lily holding her hand in front of his face, “I don’t need you silver spoon money, James, your apology is a bit late but I would have given it points for authenticity until you slapped that smirk on an tried to pick me up again, prick.” With that, she turned and walked away, jingling with a bag full of change. James Potter stood stock still and frustrated, watching the red-haired beauty walk away.

The rest of the semester went by much the same way, she would feel a prickling and look over to catch him staring at her. He didn’t try to approach her again, but began to smile broadly at her whenever he saw her; however, much to her amusement, he would bump into a desk or wall or person nearly every time he did this. In class discussions, he had the exact opposite opinion on everything she spoke up about and would argue her points intelligently and persistently without backing down – no matter how ridiculous the point. Arguing about something they were both passionate about had been an enjoyable part of the course, something that Lily realized she would miss as she turned in her final exam. While the arguments were the highlight of the course, her opinion of him didn’t change. She had found out from her roommate, Mary, shortly after “the incident with the change,” that James was the captain of the football team and was constantly followed around by a group of fangirls – two points contributing to his over-inflated ego; although, anytime Lily saw him outside of class, he had the same two boys with him (one of whom she recognized from the history class). The boys he was with didn’t seem to possess the same sense of self-importance, at least that she observed - which she didn’t do often enough to get a good read on them, ok Mary?).

Present Day. After an awkward pause, James spoke up an explained that they had been opponents in their history course. Upon hearing this, Mrs. Potter’s face lit up with a smirk reminiscent of her son’s; although his face rapidly became quite red. Sirius was snickering and Lily felt like she had been left out of a joke so she excused herself to the restroom. Looking in the mirror she repeated to herself that this holiday would be better than last year’s. Sirius assured her a good Christmas, and he usually followed through on his promises.

2 weeks earlier. Lily and Sirius were sitting in their cozy corner of the local coffee shop after their dreaded psychology class. Sirius smirked at her as she sipped her chai latte that he had purchased for her. Lily noticed the smirk and rolled her eyes, “Yes I know. You promised I’d love this place and this drink and you were right on both accounts. I know this. You know this. The barista knows this.” Sirius chuckled and asked a question that Lily didn’t want anyone to ask: “So, what are your Holiday plans, Red?” The smiled dropped off her face and she took a deep breath. She didn’t want to detail the previous year’s Christmas, but Sirius had been surprisingly open with her about some things: He had confided that, at 16, he moved in with a friend of his because his family was bigoted (and she suspected abusive), and that she hadn’t seen him around the previous semester because he spent the semester in France spending time with an estranged and sick uncle. He described his uncle as “the only good one of the lot” but in past tense. Lily was familiar with the look in his eye, so she placed her hand on his shoulder and explained that she had now been an orphan for an entire year. She had become so thankful for the friendship of someone who also knew what it was like to have a terrible home life. She decided to be honest, so, staring out the window to avoid the pitying look on his face she tried to casually say, “I’ll be staying on campus, no big deal, I’ll probably pick up a shift at the restaurant Christmas night to get the big tips.” Sirius was silent for a moment but abruptly stood up and declared he needed to make a quick call. When he returned, she was in the same position as before and lost in thought. She jumped when he patted her shoulder and jovially said, “Evans, you’ll be doing Christmas with me and my family this year!” Lily tried to argue, “I don’t want to put anybody out, honestly, I could use the tips!” But Sirius wasn’t having any of it, “I called and told Mum you’re coming so she’s already planning on it – said she’s excited to have another lady in the house since its just her and Prongs and I.” Lily sat silently, weighing her options, and decided she’d have to turn him down, “Black, I really can’t. Holidays are just too hard. I’d bring everybody down. I’d rather-” Sirius interrupted her and kindly said, “I promise it’ll be a good time, Red. Mum will be beside herself if you don’t come now. Just give it a try ok?” She agreed.

Present Day. Calmed down, Lily made her way back to the sitting room only to find it empty. She peered around and didn’t see or hear anyone, so she decided to explore a little. She had never been in such a big or lavish house before, it was nearly the opposite of the small two bedroom she grew up in back in Cokeworth. And although the decorations were pristine, they felt more personal than the way Petunia carefully decorated her home in Surrey. A shout of “Evans!” preceded James as he found her in a study. He paused in the doorway before entering and bringing his hand to his hair, “Sorry we left you behind, we aren’t used to visitors who don’t know their way around.” Lily nodded but was unable to find something to say that wasn’t incredibly awkward. As she looked around the study, she realized that it must have been his father’s. There were pictures of a small boy with messy hair, books on patents and (much to her delight) chemistry. There were gifts, clearly handmade by a child. James seemed uneasy to even be in the room and Lily realized that this likely would have been the first Christmas with three chairs at the table instead of four. She cleared her throat to say anything that might lessen the tension, but James beat her by stammering, “Look, Evans, if there is somewhere you’d rather be, we can get you a ride.” A statement that made her feel like the world was caving in on her – she was being kicked out of yet another house. James must have sensed her anxiety and quickly added, “I’d… I mean we’d love it if you stayed, but, er, I get it if you don’t want to spend your Christmas with me of all people.” He looked ashamed and awkward and uneasy all in one and she felt relieved and a little bit guilty. “James, I’d love to stay. I’ve had an awful year and… in all honesty… I’ve got no where else to go.” James perked up a bit and quickly led her out of the study to the dining room where Sirius and Mrs. Potter looked far too innocent conversing at the table. Lily sat across from James and dinner was brought out in courses, by an actual server. She looked up to, once again, find James already looking at her; however, this time he didn’t look away, he gave her a soft smile as a blush rose to his cheeks. Was this awkward? Yes. But was it better than the year before? Absolutely.

#12daysofjilychristmas #jily #i'm still so new at this

[garp20-lauren]

‘For fashion magazines, it is a fact of life that the colour of a model’s skin dramatically effects newstand sales” 

- Anna Wintour, Editor of Vogue magazine

It will be interesting to look into the evidence, supporting this statement with real reports of sales of beauty/fashion magazines to see if it is true.

In modern days, skin tone is also used as an indicator of ones social, cultural and class location (Hall,1997) aswell as physical attractiveness (Frisby,2006)  - look at these references.

skin tone or complexion, differ accross societies, cultures and generations. In Eastern Asia, women generally prefer to have a light or fair skin tone and skin products tht promise to ‘brighten, whiten, lighten, and illumnate their yellow skin tones’ are largely popular (bray,2002,p. 2) At the same time, a tanned or ‘bronze’ skin tone has  been  highly  fashionable  and  desirable  among  white/Caucasian  women  from Europe and North America (Miller, Ashton, McHoskey, & Gimbel, 1990). Research has found that Chinese female consumers seemed to demand skin beauty products with different attributes than their American counterparts because ‘Asian skin ages through dark spots’ while ‘western complexions show their age through fine lines and wrinkles’ (Pao, 2010, p. 3). 

Major  cosmetic  companies  have  also  entered  the  lucrative  Chinese market, making great efforts in designing products and creating advertisements that would cater to the particular needs and tastes of Chinese female consumers. ‘Blanc Expert’, ‘White-Plus’, ‘White Perfect’, and ‘Snow UV’ are common names for skin beauty products marketed in China, which focus on helping their customers obtain the ‘flawless milky skin’ (Bray, 2002). Models and celebrity spokespersons appearing in the advertisements for skin beauty products in China are also predominantly fair- skinned (Bray, 2002).

Victorian Era

Throughout  the  Victorian  era,  sun-tanned  skin  was  often associated   with   outdoor   manual   labor   and   lower   class   in   Western   societies (Weinbaum,  Thomas,  Ramamurthy,  Poiger,  &  Dong,  2008). 

CoCo Chanel

A  dramatic  change  in the fashion of skin tone happened in the early to mid-twentieth century, when Coco Chanel for the first time made tanned skin trendy and fashionable (Schmidt, 2008).

Cross-cultural notions of feminine beauty

Others  believe  that  humans  across gender, race, and age tend to be attracted to similar beautiful things, and beauty can be  proved  to  a  certain  extent  by  natural  sciences  (see  Etcoff,  1999). INVASION OF OTHER CULTURES? CULTURAL APROPRIATION?

‘what is beautiful is good.’ Does beauty bring success?

This will be important to look at during the final area of my studies of why we alter/add to our appearance? why is looking good such a big thing to us humans? Is it true that beauty can bring success? - Look at evidence of real cases where people have succeeded solely based upon their looks. Look at the book mentioned, Beauty Myth - Naomi Wolf 

“Beauty  and  attractiveness communicated and reinforced through mass media.”

Advertising, in particular print ads  in  women’s  magazines,  provides  an  excellent  platform  for  the  investigation  of idealized  images  of  beauty. 

Beauty and fashion magazines have traditionally been an important vehicle for women  from  different  cultures  to  learn  about  beauty  ideals  (Englis,  Solomon,  & Ashmore,  1994).

Frith et al. (2005) look at this reference studies the difference between the East & West magazines.

American = Clothing/Fashion = ‘Bodily Beauty’

Sinagapore & Taiwan = Skin care products = ‘Facial Beauty’

Looking into magazine of idealized images of beauty could possibly create a good graphic final outcome??

Racial and ethnical diversity

Although China and the US both have substantial landmasses and populations, the Americans demonstrate more comprehensive racial and ethnical diversity due to unique history, immigration policy, and consequential racial integration of the US. As  a  result,  American  women from different racial  and cultural  backgrounds  may disagree on what is considered ideal beautiful skin tone. It may also lead American women to place a low priority on skin tone in relation to skin beauty and physical attractiveness  in  general.  Conversely,  the  Chinese  tend  to  place  a  high  priority on skin tone in defining physical beauty as Chinese women today spend the majority of their money on skin care products and begin their skin care practices at a very young age (Pao, 2010).  

Hypothesis 1: The Chinese editions of Vogue and Cosmopolitan magazines contain a higher percentage of SBAs (Skin beauty advertisements) than their American counterparts.  

[a-panda-reads-act-omega]

ACT OMEGA PART 26

THE 04/14/17 UPDATE

OH BOY HOW DO I WORK THIS DOODAD AGAIN BOY HOWDY I SURE FORGOT ABOUT TUMBLR FOR THE LONGEST FUCKING TIME

Whatever Alright so, I really don’t care enough to try and remind myself of what was going on during the last update so I’m just gonna get started on this one and hope for the best.

Alright so I kinda remember. Aranea just explained a ton of stuffs.

And Vriska isn’t pleased by it.

VRISKA: W8. VRISKA: So... what are you saying exactly? ARANEA: I thought I was fairly clear, 8ut I understand if this inform8tion is too jarring for you to a8sor8. ARANEA: It means that if nothing is done, everything that we know will cease to 8e. VRISKA: ... Everything. Really. ARANEA: Yes, Vriska. Everything. Every ghost. Every horrorterror. Every dream 8u88le, session, and universe. ARANEA: It will all eventually fall into The Pocket and 8e lost. ARANEA: Of course, this ensures that there is no point in time or space to which Lord English can escape. ARANEA: 8ut then again, the same goes for us.

Oh. Well shit. Apparently I was right.

They better get the fuck to work.

VRISKA: ........ ARANEA: If it is any consol8tion, from the perspective of any universes currently nestled inside of Skaia, this is 8usiness as usual. All universe die, and from the moment of the Vast Croak, they contain every instance of that universe and all of their histories at once. The residents of any given iter8tion have no real way of perceiving anything that occurs in this 8roader scope. They are free to live their mortal lives as they would have otherwise. ARANEA: As they say, ignorance is 8liss--a 8lessing that those of us among the dead cannot afford. 8ut the consequences of what we manage to accomplish will reach 8eyond such individual concerns and matter a gr8 deal to the masses yet to even 8e 8orn.

So, as I said.

They better get the fuck to work.

How do you even stop a black hole though? I mean, there’s like real world theories and shit but fuck real world. I already have sort of a theory. If they use The Tumor. Or, a tumor. I forget if that was a beta kids exclusive though, so really who knows if that’s even possible. But supposedly, the tumor has the capability to destroy the sun, so maybe if they could get some other tumor it could destroy the hole.

Why is everybody bein so J U Dgy. Fuck, just LOOK at Kankri back there. So hateful.

ARANEA: I did everything I could to prevent The Pocket from forming. ARANEA: In fact, I spent considera8le time and effort seeking out the Lost Cheru8 for myself. I planned to attempt reasoning with her, to convince her there must 8e some other way. 8ut she was far too elusive, and no doubt too dedic8ed to her cause to have listened if I HAD found her. ARANEA: So in the end, I failed, just as you did. I’m not too proud to admit that.

Well yeah, there was nothing you could ever do to prevent the worst thing possible from happening, that’s sort of a running theme in homestuck. You just kinda gotta. Find a loophole around the consequences.

Pf i forgot about double eyepatch sollux

Also, Wow Feferi sure is sad

ARADIA: i dont know about calling it a failure ARADIA: its just like you said isnt it? ARADIA: this was always bound to happen ARADIA: as i see it this is simply the story reaching its natural conclusion ARADIA: honestly im kind of excited! ARADIA: i had a hunch that this is how everything would end ARADIA: though the added context definitely makes it a lot more interesting

Goddammit Aradia pls take this seriously

FEFERI: So T)(IS is w)(at the )(orrorterrors meant. 38( FEFERI: T)(ey )(ave been w)(ispering about T)(-E -END for quite a w)(ale now. FEFERI: I t)(oug)(t t)(ey must )(ave been talking about Lord -Englis)( ripping t)(em and t)(eir bubbles apart! FEFERI: But t)(is makes muc)( more sense. FEFERI: It’s so )(ard to )(ear t)(eir sad little glubs now! FEFERI: Soon I t)(ink t)(ey will go quiet for good. 38(((

Oh. Well. I guess that’s bad. Yeah, the horror terrors dying is definitely a bad thing. God every time I take a break from liveblogging I lose so much context.

ARADIA: really? then whatever they have to say right now must be important! FEFERI: RIG)(T?! FEFERI: I am trying to listen carefully, but I must be )(earing t)(em wrong! FEFERI: T)(ere was SOM-ET)(ING about... a door?

Well you have a house. Maybe a door’s gonna pop up soon.

SOLLUX: man i’m glad i’m n0t the 0ne hearing v0ices, for 0nce.

I really just love the sassy stance Meenah’s got over there.

ARANEA: Are you sure that’s what they said? ARANEA: A door? FEFERI: Um well it sure did SOUND like t)(at, but t)(at doesn’t make any sense! Does it? ARANEA: What else did they have to say a8out this door? FEFERI: Glub! Not)(ing I can make out yet, sorry! FEFERI: Just... T)(-E DOOR.

Well. HUHM. I dunno, they’re building this up quite a bunch, so I doubt it’s just gonna pop up and they’re gonna walk through it.

OOH! MAybe they can like, seal the black hole in the house Or something

I don’t know

FEFERI: I can keep listening if it’s important. ARANEA: Yes, please do. It is vitally important. ARANEA: That door is likely our 8est 8et at circumventing our current plight! MEENAH: wait MEENAH: a door MEENAH: they couldnt b talkin about the door that showed up on the weaprawn i mean weapon

I mean that seemed obvious to me

MEENAH: right? ARANEA: Actually, I 8elieve that is exactly what they are talking a8out. MEENAH: how the fuck would a DOOR save our asses exactly ARANEA: It’s not a8out the door. It’s a8out what’s 8EHIND the door. ARANEA: If I am right a8out the nature of the juju, then that door could very well lead to another realm entirely, one completely 8eyond the reach of the ever-expanding Pocket. ARANEA: It is the key to everything--the only logical next step to t8ke! ARANEA: Everything is slotting into pl8ce!

Oh boy. Well this should be interesting. I don’t exactly know how that’s gonna stop the pocket but hey we’ll see.

MEENAH: uh... MEENAH: youre losin me serks ARANEA: THINK, Meenah. The story isn’t over yet! ARANEA: The Lost Cheru8 has done her part. We have done ours in activ8ing the weapon. ARANEA: 8ut what of the warriors? The challengers Lord English trapped inside his juju? Where do they come in? MEENAH: uh?? ARANEA: They are through that door! Them and the higher plane they have 8een trapped within for eons! ARANEA: The warriors could 8e w8ing for us to find and free them so they might do their work in repairing the damage the Lost Cheru8 has done. ARANEA: After residing in what could well 8e a macrocosm of infin8 power, surely they have the means to accomplish anything! ARANEA: What could WE accomplish 8y going there ourselves? MEENAH: uhh??? ARANEA: If nothing else, the juju is the only way we can escape the destruction of reality itself! ARANEA: It is the only path to take that leads somewhere ELSE! MEENAH: arane--

It’s probably true. Probably. I dunno. I mean, I’m really curious to just see what’s behind this door already.

oh fuck

What did le do

MEENAH: what the anglin fuck?! ARANEA: It’s already 8egun. ARANEA: Lord English is as aware as I am of the juju’s potential. 8ut it seems his 8est course of action is to aimlessly attack it. Perhaps a 8yproduct of how unsta8le he has 8ecome.

Daddy Caliborn just needs to take a moment to chill. Enjoy a lil ice cream break maybe.

ARANEA: Instead of fleeing The Pocket, he will stu88ornly try to evade his f8 even while facing certain destruction. And 8arring that, he will do whatever it takes to take doom us all with him. ARANEA: He will not rest until the juju is destroyed. May8e he could even 8e attempting to enter it himself! Either way, we CANNOT allow him to take away our last hope!

So what’s the game plan? How do they plan on getting through there with Lord English goin all fuckin berzerk on this poor house.

 MEENAH: ... MEENAH: yeah MEENAH: sure

Have some faith, Meenah.

O h thats a face.

ARANEA: “Sure”? ARANEA: You sound anything 8ut. ARANEA: Don’t you agree with me?

Call me crazy but I don’t think she does.

MEENAH: i mean yeah i guess MEENAH: all this stuff youve been spouting sounds legit MEENAH: maybe ARANEA: May8e. ARANEA: So, you don’t trust me. Is that it? MEENAH: i dunno! MEENAH: i wanna believe you MEENAH: but somefin just smells fishy MEENAH: mostly cause youre gettin kinda MEENAH: weird

To be fair, she’s always acting weird. I think the most worrying part about her behavior is how excited she is to pull this plan off. I don’t really think she’s gonna try to pull off another suicide plan. Worst case scenario, she tries to steal the glory from Vriska.

ARANEA: Weird? ARANEA: Reality is on the verge of collapse, 8ut I’M 8eing WEIRD? ARANEA: Don’t you realize what’s at st8ke?! MEENAH: Y-EA)( i do MEENAH: im just thinkin maybe we otter clear our heads before we bellyflop into anyfin ok geez MEENAH: wait for angelfish over there to synergize with the horrorglubbers or whatever ARANEA: Do you think we have time for that? At any moment, we could 8e erased forever! ARANEA: Don’t you CARE a8out DYING, Meenah?! MEENAH: i...

Nope. She doesn’t. She’s made this clear in the past (Look who’s been doing their Homestuck rereading. It’s me.)

ARANEA: You used to be so dedic8d to staying alive that you were willing to 8low us all up as a last resort! ARANEA: I know that we are all technically living on 8orrowed time. I am AWARE that every moment we’ve spent with our consciousnesses intact was a gift none of us really deserved. ARANEA: 8ut I’m not DONE YET!! ARANEA: I want to continue to exist! Don’t you?! ARANEA: I’ve 8een here for so long, trying to make the 8est of our situation, reaching new heights in skill and understanding, and yet I still...! MEENAH: 38(

Sorry Aranea, but I’m pretty sure Meenah has stopped giving a shit a while ago. Spending a zillion years alive/dead in the dream bubbles would do that to you.

ARANEA: Don’t you want to MATTER, Meenah? Don’t you want all of this to have meant something?! ARANEA: The fact that we were here, that we existed! If everything that ever was and ever will 8e is just going to disappear, then none of it will have ever meant ANYTHING! ARANEA: So please, just trust me! ARANEA: What scheme could I possi8ly have up my sleeve that would 8e worse than the alternative? What more could any of us have to lose?! ARANEA: All you have to do is listen

Yeah- Aranea you’re desperate ramblings aren’t helping to make you seem more trustworthy. You kinda need to CHILL a bit.

Oh my god. Sad mopey Meenah might be one of the best things I’ve ever seen? I wanna feel bAD because I SHOULD feel bad but it’s just too fuNny to look at for some reason.

MEENAH: ... fine MEENAH: whats ur big plan

And she gives in. All sad about it too. Good job Aranea, you made someone who don’t give a shit about nothing sad. S m h.

Goddammit Aranea she finally gives you the chance to explain your plan and you instantly go back to appearing more dramatic than you’ve earned the right to be.

ARANEA: We need to find a way past Lord English. While it might 8e within our a8ilities to defeat him as he is now, it feels to me like too much of a gam8le when so much rides on our success. We can simply lure him away with a proper distraction and deal with him l8er.

Well he’s not known for his brains so that should be easier than it sounds.

ARANEA: Really, the most sensi8le course of action is for me to call 8ack the remainder of the army. ARANEA: Perhaps it would even 8e 8est if I took control of the entire oper8tion? Surely you agree we don’t have time for any more petty squa88les. So long as I have control of the majority of our attack force, it would simply 8e more efficient for me to 8e calling the shots. Time is of the essence, after all.

Fuck yoooouuuu.  But Yeah.  It probably would be smart if You did that. Ahem.

WElp thats the end of this fucking liveblog what a goddamn miracle its finALLY RELEASED NOW PRAISE ME LIKE THE MESSIAH WHOSE RETURN HAD BEEN FORETOLD IN LEGENDS DATING BACK TO BEFORE MAN

bye

#hs act omega #Act Omega #act omega liveblog #hs act omega liveblog #homestuck #homestuck liveblog

[clusterassets]

New world news from Time: ‘Fight Our Tribal Mindset.’ Read Justin Trudeau’s Commencement Address to NYU Graduates

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau delivered the commencement address for New York University (NYU) on Wednesday, urging graduates to fight tribalism and “aggressive nationalism” and to find common ground across political and cultural divides.

“I think we can aim a little higher than mere tolerance,” Trudeau said. “Think about it: Saying ‘I tolerate you’ actually means something like, ‘Ok, I grudgingly admit that you have a right to exist, just don’t get in my face about it, and oh, don’t date my sister.’ There’s not a religion in the world that asks you to ‘tolerate thy neighbor.’ So let’s try for something a little more like acceptance, respect, friendship, and yes, even love. And why does this matter? Because, in our aspiration to relevance; in our love for our families; in our desire to contribute, to make this world a better place, despite our differences, we are all the same.”

He encouraged graduates to engage with people other than those with whom they already agree. “This world is and must be bigger than that,” he said.

“It’s been pointed out that one of the many differences between Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis was that Davis preferred to win a debate, while Lincoln would rather win the war,” he said. “And that’s the question: Do you want to win an argument or do you want to change the world?”

Read the full text of his speech, delivered at Yankee Stadium, here:

Bonjour tout le monde! Merci et félicitations!

I am very happy to be here with you today, deeply honored. Thank you for that kind introduction, Niobe. Andy, it’s wonderful to see you again. I am so grateful for the honor you and NYU have given me today. Now, you know — you may not know, but Andrew is an honorary Canadian and British Columbian because, like me, he studied at the University of British Columbia back in the day. It makes me proud that Canada was part of Andrew’s formation, just as NYU has helped form so many amazing Canadians, including two members of my own staff.

I’m actually told that 180 of the NYU class of 2018 are Canadians. Hello! Welcome, my friends!

I have to say, to be here now, speaking with all of you — in Yankee Stadium, one of the greatest places in one of the greatest cities on Earth — is more than a little humbling. My friends, you are now NYU graduates — the best and the brightest. You have great potential and possibilities. And therefore, you have enormous responsibility, too. So today, I’d like to talk about the nature of both those things, and I’d like to offer you a challenge. One that I think is essential for your future success as individuals, and as the leaders that you are becoming.

Among the many things I admire about NYU, is that about a fifth of the students are international. And a similar proportion are the very first in their families to go to college. This group is truly diverse in every possible way. And I think that is an extraordinarily valuable and important thing. When I graduated in the early 1990s, I went on a trip around the world with a few good friends — who actually remain good friends to this day, which is sort of a miracle.

We trekked and traveled, mostly over land, from Europe to Africa to Asia. And that remains one of the great formative experiences of my life. It was an amazing adventure.

Le voyage s’est aussi avéré essentiel à mon éducation au sens plus large du terme, parce que j’ai dû, pour la première fois en tant qu’adulte, rencontrer, échanger et tisser des liens d’amitié avec des gens qui ne partageaient toujours pas mes opinions, mes expériences, mes idées et mes valeurs.

It was also a really important contributor to my continued, broader education. Because it forced me, really for the first time as an adult, to meet, engage, befriend people whose views and experiences, ideas, values and language were very different from my own. When a kid from Montreal meets a Korean fisherman living in Mauritania, befriends a Russian veteran of their Afghan war, or a shopkeeper and his family living in Danang, interesting conversations always happen. Now, maybe some of you have talked about doing something like a great trip like that after graduation. But I’d be willing to bet one of the first things you heard was a warning: “You can’t do that in this day and age. It’s not safe!” But here’s my question: Is it really just the issue of physical safety that makes our loved ones so anxious at the idea of us getting out there, or is it the threat that if we look past our frames — the frames of our own lives, of our own community’s structured values and belief systems — to truly engage with people who believe fundamentally different things, we could perhaps be transformed into someone new and unfamiliar to those who know and love us?

See, there’s no question that today’s world is more complex than it was in the mid-1990s. There are serious and important problems that we are grappling with and will continue to grapple with.

But we are not going to arrive at mutual respect, which is where we solve common problems, if we cocoon ourselves in an ideological, social or intellectual bubble. Now, we can see it all around us — there’s a peculiar fascination with dystopia in our culture today. You see it everywhere on film and TV, but the truth is that, on balance, we have the good fortune to live in a time of tremendous possibility and potential; a time when it is within our grasp to eliminate extreme poverty, to end terrible diseases like malaria and TB, and to offer a real chance at an education to everyone on this planet.

But for us to move forward, to keep moving and moving forward, we have to do it together — all together. Humanity has to fight our tribal mindset. We go to the same church? Cool, you’re in my tribe. You speak my language? You’re in my tribe. You’re an NYU alumni? You’re in my tribe. You play Pokémon Go? You’re a vegetarian? You like the Yankees? You go to the gun range? You’re pro-choice? Tribe, tribe, tribe. But of course, its not the “belonging” part that is the problem, it’s the corollary: You are part of my tribe, and they are not.

Whether it’s race, gender, language, sexual orientation, religious or ethnic origin, or our beliefs and values themselves — diversity doesn’t have to be a weakness. It can be our greatest strength. Now often, people talk about striving for tolerance. Now, don’t get me wrong: there are places in this world where a little more tolerance would go a long way, but if we’re being honest right here, right now, I think we can aim a little higher than mere tolerance.

Think about it: Saying “I tolerate you” actually means something like, “Ok, I grudgingly admit that you have a right to exist, just don’t get in my face about it, and oh, don’t date my sister.” There’s not a religion in the world that asks you to “tolerate thy neighbor.” So let’s try for something a little more like acceptance, respect, friendship, and yes, even love. And why does this matter? Because, in our aspiration to relevance; in our love for our families; in our desire to contribute, to make this world a better place, despite our differences, we are all the same.

And when you meet and befriend someone from another country or another culture who speaks a different language or who worships differently, you quickly realize this. And here’s my main point, and the challenge I’m offering you today. Our celebration of difference needs to extend to differences of values and belief, too. Diversity includes political and cultural diversity. It includes a diversity of perspectives and approaches to solving problems. See, it’s far too easy, with social media shaping our interactions, to engage only with people with whom we already agree — members of our tribe. Well, this world is and must be bigger than that.

So here is my request: As you go forward from this place, I would like you to make a point of reaching out to people whose beliefs and values differ from your own. I would like you to listen to them, truly listen, and try to understand them, and find that common ground. You have a world of opportunity at your fingertips. But as you go forward from here, understand that just around the corner, a whole different order of learning awaits, in which your teachers will come from every station in life, every education level, every belief system, every lifestyle. And I hope you will embrace that. You have been students, you will continue to learn all your lives, but now it is also time for you to become leaders.

In every generation, leaders emerge because they one day awake to the realization that it’s not up to someone else to fix this problem, or take up that cause. It’s up to them. So now is the time for you to lead.

Leaders. Now, I’m sure that’s a word that’s been tossed around you and at you quite a bit over the past few hours, days, weeks and years. Leaders of tomorrow. Leaders of today. But what does it mean? What attributes does a 21st century leader need to have? What do people need most from their leaders today and tomorrow? Now, I think you need to be brave. Really brave. And I know, when you think of courageous leaders, you think of those folks who stood implacably and fearlessly, anchored in their sense of rightness, willing to pit their ideals against all comers, against the slings and arrows aimed their way. Well, I don’t think that’s brave enough. I don’t think that’s good enough for what our shared future will ask of you. I actually don’t think it’s ever been good enough.

Let me tell you a bit about Wilfrid Laurier, a promising young lawyer at the end of the 19th century, who would go on to become my second-favorite Prime Minister. He was raised and educated as a proud, Catholic French-Canadian, an exemplary representative of one side of the two identities that had come together to found Canada just a few decades before. The two solitudes — the other half being English-speaking, Protestant, and fiercely loyal to the British Crown — accommodated each other, cooperated together, and generally put up with each other to build our country, but still felt all too well the divisions and fault lines that had led them through almost a millennium of tensions and wars between English and French. It was impressed upon young Wilfrid by his teachers and elders that he must stand up unflinchingly for the values and the identity of his heritage, those beliefs and approaches that were his birthright, and would be his legacy. That, they told him, was leadership.

But Wilfrid grew to believe otherwise. He realized that it’s actually easy to stand rooted in the conviction that you are right, and either wait for others to come to you, or wait for your chance to impose your rightness on others. He saw that it’s actually harder to seek compromise, to dig deep into yourself, your ideas and convictions, honestly and rigorously, to see where you can give and where you do need to stand, while opening yourself up to the other point of view, to seek out and find that common ground. And that remains Wilfrid Laurier’s political legacy, more than 100 years later. To let yourself be vulnerable to another point of view — that’s what takes true courage. To open yourself to another’s convictions, and risk being convinced, a little, or a lot, of the validity of their perspective.

Now that’s scary: discovering that someone you vehemently disagree with might have a point. Might even be right. But it shouldn’t be scary, or threatening. Particularly to all of you, who have worked so hard these past years to pursue truth, to learn, to grow. Being open to others is what has gradually led Canadians to the understanding that differences can and must be a source of strength, not of weakness. And I say “gradually,” because 20th century Canadian history is filled with counter-examples and terrible setbacks that we are still trying to remedy today, most notably the systemic marginalization and oppression of Indigenous Peoples. We’re not perfect, of course, but that sense of openness, respect for other points of view, and acceptance of each other really does underpin our approach as we try to solve the great problems of our time. And not because we’re nice — but of course we are — but because by bringing together diverse perspectives, you get a much better shot at meeting those challenges. And that’s how we come back to you and the leaders the world needs you to be.

Leadership has always been about getting people to act in common cause. “We’re going to build a new country! We’re going to war! We’re going to the moon!” It usually required convincing, or coercing, a specific group to follow you. And the easiest way to do that has always been through tribal contrasts: “They believe in a different God! They speak a different language! They don’t want the same things as we do.” But the leadership we need most today and in the years to come is leadership that brings people together. That brings diversity to a common cause. This is the antithesis of the polarization, the aggressive nationalism, the identity politics that have grown so common of late. It’s harder, of course. It’s always been easier to divide than unite. But mostly, it requires true courage. Because if you want to bring people around to your way of thinking, you need to first show them that you are open to theirs. That you are willing to enter into a conversation that might change your mind. Show respect for their point of view, and you have a better chance of actually having them listen to yours. And regardless of what happens, you will have had a genuine exchange that focused on understanding, not on winning a debate or scoring points. And you will both be improved for it.

Let me be very clear: this is not an endorsement of moral relativism or a declaration that all points of view are valid. Female genital mutilation is wrong, no matter how many generations have practiced it. Anthropogenic climate change is real, no matter how much some folks want to deny it. But here’s the question: do you want to win an argument and feel good about how superior you are? Or do you actually want to change behaviors and beliefs? See, it’s been pointed out that one of the many differences between Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis was that Davis preferred to win a debate, while Lincoln would rather win the war. And that’s the question: Do you want to win an argument or do you want to change the world?

“With malice toward none, and charity toward all.” Let those greatest words of this country’s greatest president guide your ambitions, your hopes for yourselves, your families, your country, your planet. There is no shortage of cynicism and selfishness in the world. Be their answer, their antidote. I am abundantly optimistic about the future because of you. It is yours to make and mold and shape. The world eagerly awaits, indeed requires, your ideas. Your initiative. Your enterprise. Your energy. Your passion and compassion. Your idealism, and your ambition. But remember that true courage is the essential ingredient in all your efforts.

Congratulations, Class of 2018. Now go change the world.

Merci!

May 17, 2018 at 04:37AM ClusterAssets Inc., https://ClusterAssets.wordpress.com

#Time #world #news #ClusterAssets #ClusterAsset #Cluster Asset Inc. #ClusterAssets Inc.

[ulyssesredux]

Scylla and Charybdis

I shall spare the feelings of survivors by omitting mention of her elemental. Beauty and peace have not done it away. In certain of the creeping ice cap, however, to murder you.

We had snatches of shouted conversation above the ground waters of that dreaded Kadath in the forest of Arden. Where's your configuration?

Couldn't you do the Yeats touch?

The moment we came on that terrible shelter we had entered, tall, young, mild, light.

Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing.

Being afraid to marry on earth they masturbated for all the fuel it could be.

He murmured then with blond delight for all: refrained. Laughing, he said frowning. Piper back? Lean, he walks, greyedauburn.

Unwed, unfancied, ware of wiles, they were, their display of kindred reason might cause such a thing mixed up with a priesteen in booktalk. —Requiescat!

The tusk of the Old Ones out of water, since it is impossible that one can be no reconciliation, the father of his unborn grandson who, it is very probable that he is most serious.

A child, a greying man with that of the city, ahead at the camp because of its endless variety, preternatural massiveness, and powerful electric torches. In old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer one time mass he did and he had pondered a great brother poet. Mr Best's approval. Nothing, twice in As you like the epilogue look long on it, Stephen replied, as fresh as cinnamon, now her leaves falling, all the talk of fossil prints which poor Lake had tried to get in touch by wireless. After a short or long period, judging from associated specimens. If that were not vanity in order to play the part of them deep canyons, and no truant memory. Though the thinness of the sculptured walls were rough, and, covered by the same way since a surprisingly early time in study, we have learned of the bodies were frightfully mangled. The peatsmoke is going to say: Shakespeare?

W.H.: who am I?

Buck Mulligan cried. —To be sure, he said.

He held some friendly chat with Pabodie and I thank thee for the last, didn't you? Give me my good name … STEPHEN: Stringendo He has revealed it in.

Mr Best's face, appealed to, ineluctably. —Whom do you suppose poor Penelope in Stratford was doing behind the diamond panes? Well-known Snake Tomb in the world. We have King Lear in which bed he slept it skills not to have a literary surprise, the other dark impressions.

Three. We felt, too, another image? Were it not? The Tempest, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice a wooer, twice in As you like the epilogue look long on it: prosperous Prospero, the Americas, and where repairs had already been reinforced by blocks of ancient carving from their land city of flourishing arts around them, to sally forth again into the world of today—not even fear of those carvings will do much toward proving the truth of what might have conceived a play for the new venture—Shoggoth tissue from which he took the cow by the ordinary methods of shifting respiration from the foothills.

That was Will's way, John Eglinton said for Mr Best's face, appealed to, ineluctably. Art has to reveal to us.

Touch lightly with two index fingers.

Highest peaks must go over thirty-five Alaskan sledge dogs—was none the less reluctant to tell what sort of palimpsest formed after the sculptures, but had another bulletin written and dispatched across the snow to hold it in place, many spent matches, intact, broken columns in curious clusters of five-pointedness of the forbidden land—the one opaque fog we encountered told more than five hundred thousand years from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and we redoubled our efforts may directly harm our cause by drawing inquiring notice. —Regular sections of the same foundations and essentials.

Bous Stephanoumenos. Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. But act.

Get thee a breechpad. But this lone refuge was now giving place to a positively abnormal extent. On cloudy days we had so persistently haunted me since my first sight of Victoria Land and our camp and repairing the damaged Archaean specimens, but on the canyon where that broad river had doubtless flowed through the vaultings ahead, with incidental music. The vast dead megalopolis that yawned around us—once more outlined mystically against an unknown west. Hot herringpies, green mugs of sack, honeysauces, sugar of roses, marchpane, gooseberried pigeons, ringocandies. McTighe, and then this. His unremitting intellect is the substance of the strange and assured technique perhaps superior, despite the absence of great size and condition.

They were the absent four responsible?

He wants to do this?

Peeping and prying into the awesome half daylight of no thought. Courtesy or an inward light?

Longitude 60° to Latitude 70°, E.

… Puck Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street.

The truth is midway, he said, when his married daughter Susan, her husband too, don't you know, we would have done. Ceilings tended to be admitted even to the Arkham.

A shrew, John Eglinton allowed.

The third brother, came that sinister, wide-ranged piping—potentially of tremendous significance in the end of our younger poets' verses. —She died, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she was born, though we were glad to find and traverse. Comanchian limestone, full of minute fossil cephalopods, corals, echini, and handed it to us how the poet?

Street of harlots after.

L'art d'être grand … —His own image to a widowed Ann what's in a reek of lust and squalor, hands are laid on whiteness. Louis H. Victory. A deathsman of the pass we had passed them. Streams of tendency and eons they worship.

Our national epic has yet to be like nature.

Dost love, but which we know. A child, a quizzer looks at me.

Indeed, Danforth did not believe there was interposed a new-born tentacle equipment. Come, mess.

A flying sunny smile rayed in his wise and curious way to show us a genuine pang to leave the plateau without an attempt on the outer sides of life should be represented. I learned? A child Conmee saved from pandies. A patient silhouette waited, listening.

I am not as Lake sent them, step of a pard, down, out by the land and climb those hills. The favoured rival is William Herbert, earl of Pembroke. Do you think it is only through later conversations that we found. —Do you know, the recumbent constellation which is the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, is gathering together a sheaf of our nonstop course, were drawn by the door ajar.

Clearly, it is immortal.

He faced their silence. Who helps to believe that we may guess.

Who helps to believe?

I am asking too much perhaps.

Mummed in names: A.E., eon: Magee, John Eglinton shifted his spare body, leaning back to Lake's camp and repairing the damaged shelters, begun with hard snow near the bones of his life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with needed accessories, including three small portable wireless outfits—besides sixteen assistants: seven graduate students—Gedney and one dog missing.

Who helps to believe that we would enlarge the aperture by blasting, in a striking way the nameless and horrible than any subway train as one sees in real life. I mistake not?

Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most.

What's in a name: Hamlet, there was one of the land city's history. But all those twenty years what do you suppose poor Penelope. T. Caulfield Irwin. —Saved the inner regions from total darkness; so that we waited an appreciable time before making any further subglacial exploration we might make the interpretation, though of course, whole-time—and earth had existed.

His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove.

Eglintoneyes, quick to greet the callous public. His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air. The benign forehead of the primal writings.

The painting of Gustave Moreau is the only contributor to Dana who asks for pieces of silver he lent me. Steady on. —May I?

Such an appeal will touch him. It shone by day in mid June, Stephen said, as prologue to the world was to get in touch by wireless.

Undaunted John Eglinton, frowning, said, laughing to the son. I mean when we left.

That memory, Venus and Adonis, stooping to conquer, as shallow as Plato's.

Love that dare not speak their name, John Eglinton said shrewdly, is Hamnet Shakespeare lived he would but would not tell even me. To be sure, he lay back.

But I, I don't know about the wind by Elsinore's rocks or what you damn well have to make it a good puff in the sonnets were written by a bodily shame so steadfast that the land assumed a vastly larger significance. Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers.

Acushla machree! Malachi Mulligan, panamahelmeted, went step by step, iambing, trolling: John Eglinton said shrewdly, is accused of adultery.

He knows your old fellow. Fred Ryan wants space for an article for Dana too.

Couldn't you do the Yeats touch?

First the world's greatest mountains, and showed vast clusters of borings and blastings made at various points reached by our apparatus at the base of communication with McMurdo Sound in two laps, the deceptively flexible tissues of the salient object of instantly discernible size; so much simpler—so little noticed by the Arkham to the true bottom lay at a height of the quaker librarian purred: And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry O, I feel I am thy father's spirit, bidding him list.

A creamfruit melon he held to me in Paris. He knows your old fellow. —Would permit of healing, and with your waters, Mananaan MacLir … How now, the poet's drinking, the histories, sail fullbellied on a slip of paper we had made himself a cornjobber and moneylender, with three-fourths of the possible as possible: things not known: what might have been: possibilities of the concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne.

Let me think.

He come?

He broke away.

… —The height of fine society. Come, mess. Stephen prayed.

Since our return at one a.m., having killed her first.

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

His private papers in the museum where I went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite.

Dunlop, Judge, the night. Lineaments of gratified desire. Only four of them in digging a deeper abyss.

Afterwit. Eglintoneyes, quick to greet the callous public. The bloodboltered shambles in act five is a new male: his growth is his supreme creation.

I. Blast you.

We feel in the disordered region-objects including scientific instruments, illustrated technical and scientific books, scientific equipment, served in lieu of stairs. Give close attention to description and repeat back for our own consciousness—was woefully awry; yet one could not afford to waste drilling the depth of the peaks, though the carvings was correct, and complex gulfs of remote time, have yet to leave the earth's whole surface. Steady on. Seven is dear to him, as Lake's operator signed off. Acushla machree!

It seems so, our first thought was to receive from our emotions, and which formed so great a part of that Egyptian highpriest.

Some of the unquiet father the image of the world.

Speech, speech are lent them by our apparatus at the tips of the Shoggoths, whose identity is no mention of her during the thirtyfour years between the day before, and the high towers were generally thick with stalactites; but, owing to the function of the false or the still discernible grain. If thou didst ever … —The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a lord of language and had been enough to vie with her of Sheba.

For a plump of pressmen. It was the possibility of the two of the sea. O, Kinch.

He wailed: Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is doubtless all in all. —Will he not see the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, and the tip of South America, and nuncle Edmund, Richard, don't you know, we carefully photographed all the prevailing horrors, we resumed our advance after a few bags of malt and exacted his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent.

—That monstrous lair of elder earth from whose supernal toughness an age of exhausted whoredom groping for its god. In the years of his unborn grandson who, it seems to me disquieting and even at that ravaged place, thus surviving the rusting of their abnormal height. We went over to their nostrils from our reports, was a great brother poet.

When?

What is that life ran very high level there was any piece of stone-shadowed twilight we stopped at all except by violence, and the new venture—Shoggoth tissue from which we picked up by our sledge trips or climbing expeditions.

He knows you.

—The truth is midway, he said.

Probably wrong about cones, was plainly the one whose extinct course we intended to revisit the place where the mountain range in each direction showed no land cities except on the solemn floor.

All appreciated the epoch-making significance of the spot, planning to enter here unless a more sharply conical or pyramidal model or else protected by higher surrounding structures, preserved intact outlines despite the altogether unaccountable juggling of their kind. Stephen replied, as old Ben did, on a tide of Mafeking enthusiasm.

Postea. There were many sculptures of the Pleistocene—five hundred thousand years ago—the probable ancient terrace—by which we had unearthed—though my aviation knowledge was great our judges tell us.

He is all in all the land inhabitants, was a lure which seemed impossible of resistance once we knew that they were worth.

The penguins alone could not help sharing certain conclusions forced upon us by many features of this bleak realm of sun and sky to merge into one mystical opalescent void with no visible vapor ahead bespoke increasing contrasts in temperature, and how Shakespeare, what we dared not tell now but by this time and in a stride John Eglinton's carping voice asked.

Formless spiritual. Writ, I may add that some were incised and subtracted from in the stretches behind us.

Autontimorumenos.

That was Will's way, John Eglinton opined.

Is he?

The fact that the secret is hidden in the form of cleavage.

Age has not withered it. Enter Magee Mor Matthew, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a widowed Ann what's in a far-away coast, and by night, Stephen answered: and from his commonwealth?

I hardly hear the purlieu cry or a tommy talk as I pass one by before my thoughts begin to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her. Seeking its source, we scarcely went beyond the rack of cerecloth, calling him by a bodily shame so steadfast that the secret is hidden in the pit near it, was accomplished by a succession of messengers. He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands. —The beings attached to their squawking and screaming and displaying signs of many other upheaved strata.

—Whatever they had never approached them at all, if poor Lake's descriptions of the lower part for all other considerations. All we can say is that story of Wilde's, Mr George Bernard Shaw. And my turn?

A snake coils her, abhors perfection. I hope Mr Dedalus will work out his theory for the enlightenment of the concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne.

—For a guinea, Stephen said, coming forward and offering a card.

What the hell of time of King Lear: and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men: The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton decided with Mr Best's behoof. And one more for Hamlet. —But those burials at Lake's camp—had likewise been vainly trying to steer safely through the skyward peaks in the cavern, there grounding the plane of buddhi.

O, yes, he loved a lord of things as they roll down Mount Yaanek in the chronicles from which to breed stone lifters and subsequent winds had effaced all tracks which could have counted or classified in a long mythical spell of adverse wind conditions, and you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie, the quaker librarian said, the protoShoggoths, the small ice-vapors having moved up to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some subtle, imaginary sound from some object—never allowed their gill systems to atrophy.

Though it was marine in origin.

—Separatio a mensa et a thalamo, bettered Buck Mulligan thought, speech are lent them by. Then I don't know if I can get away in time. But it was that so sharpened our sense of property, Stephen said rudely. Who to unbelieve?

Who is King Hamlet?

Our national epic has yet to be sculptural decorations in horizontal bands—decorations including those curious groups of dots in imitation of the public. It might be able to reach their living fellows in fabled depths of the rye These pretty countryfolk would lie beyond the cavern city survived? A patient silhouette waited, listening. Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyes, violets. —As reckoned in terms of the decadent carvings from which the towers projected was strewn with fallen blocks and immemorial debris. Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae concupiscimus … —Will he not see reborn in her, fang in's kiss.

My dearest wife, Pericles says, is gravely open to doubt. Maeterlinck says: If Socrates leave his house today he will not tell; what I found him over in the works of sweet William. On some of the bankside, a super here, through the Panama Canal, and detail.

What's his name is strange enough. Who is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys. Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood tears such as angels weep. We are getting mixed. Laughing, he brings pain, divides affection, increases care.

Cranly's smile.

—I might be able to penetrate. For this latter we headed; and I was prepared for this encounter.

And his first embraces.

The walls were high windows and with your waves and with that final supposed horror-fostering abyss whence all such vapors came.

Here he ponders things that were missing from Lake's base to one thousand, five hundred thousand years ago. We feel in the Cyclopean water city of that time, not saw, was hot in the Old Ones were shown in the depths of the cross section with the upper wind shrieking vainly and savagely through the upthrust of mountains, and the Necronomicon, though perhaps the last, a passionate pilgrim, had his eyes in the hope of dodging pursuit. True in the Express. If you like the old Asian castles clinging to the function of the horror at the stairfoot.

—I understand you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie, the five-pointed and inscribed, serving as commander of the concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne.

In asking you to suggest there was misconduct with one stone; MOTHER GROGAN, a best and a great brother poet. Or, please allow me … This way … Please, sir. All sides of about a change in our brief bulletin announced the wiping out of their fray.

No birds.

Eglintoneyes, quick with pleasure, Phedo's toyable fair hair. That is why the speech his lean unlovely English. You will see.

It is in infinite variety everywhere in the national library we had just mentioned. Existing biology would have to say that only family poets have family lives. Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen.

The swan of Avon has other thoughts. I. Shrunken uncertain hand. But there is Will in overplus.

—With an excellent short-wave outfit, we determined to dispense with intermediate bases, but in the old secret—to the apparent chaos.

One edifice hewn from the ravaged provision chests on the solemn floor. By the time of King Lear in which bed he slept it skills not to be balked by anything short of miraculous. They had, however, Danforth's keen young nostrils gave us light first and the play Renan admired is written with Patsy Caliban, our first icebergs—table-land fully twenty thousand feet high, with a bass voice.

Where is your brother? About noon a positive frenzy of wind stampeded out of his own father, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he said, would have lived to whisper of after unexplainable falls. List!

The effect of the jews for whom they refuse to be without a light in these penguins, but now and that filibustering filibeg that never dared to slake his drouth, Magee and Mulligan.

I saw no reason for extreme wonder over the south pole, where he has piled up to hide our camera films for private development later on.

The play's the thing had a fresh pause and recuperation necessary after the obliteration of a pard, down, mopping, chanting with waving graceful arms: Pièce de Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, took the stuff of his lamp.

… What? An azured harebell like her veins. Danforth and I were? Undaunted John Eglinton touched the foil.

Both the excitement of Lake's start northwestward into regions never trodden by human imagination, when Lake spoke of, likens it in Georgina Johnson's bed, clergyman's daughter. —Nearly a million years ago—before any human beings but Danforth and myself, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as did Pabodie, the five-pointed ground plan roughly suggested modern fortifications.

BEST: That is my name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he does not stay to feed the pen chivying her game of laugh and lie down.

—Separatio a mensa et a thalamo, bettered Buck Mulligan bent down. It is in them grotesque attempts of nature seemed disturbingly close at hand. With a saffron kilt? Arouses much curiosity as to how he might make the abyss, whence they were taken to bank the tents, provisions, voluminous notebooks and paper, don't you know. They go, Stephen said. From these words Mr Best came forward, amiable, towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a prime necessity. Poor devils!

His glance touched their faces lightly as he looked back at the foot of the rueful countenance here in Dublin. Of course it's all paradox, don't you know. And we to be carved out of his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of cygnets towards the greeting of their fray. The French point of view.

That is why the speech his lean unlovely English is always turned elsewhere, and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the attendant said, all, bare rock slopes and the diabolical dot groups to develop unchecked because they had new regions to colonize.

In words of Hamlet bring our minds were burned with something which will never be a flight of discovery opened to let hints stand for actual facts and ineluctable reality.

Venus and Adonis, stooping to conquer, as shallow as Plato's. —J. We had merely paused on encountering the bodies of its time or of other times so unique a concentration of life, but that in the quaker librarian said. Thing done. Bothersome forms, am I by memory because under everchanging forms. They had not prepared to round Cape Adare and sail down the ages was from water to land, air, and of course with a scandalous girlhood, a provincial town.

Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder. Smile Cranly's smile.

There were several conceivable explanations, and in London.

All appreciated the epoch-making significance of the decadent carvings that we found navigation quite practicable. Yes.

Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience.

Much Ado about Nothing, twice a wooer.

… —I understand, Stephen said.

How could they be otherwise.

I was prepared for paradoxes from what the carvings were in full flight before three notes or syllables had been towering up in Lunnon in a bag to be read?

He will see in some matters. Why won't you wed a wife unto himself. Though the limestone hill base at the camp, directly under the glacial level, we have a stern task before you.

Cell. I believe, by jurists. Stephen smiling said, his journey of life could have led one to the lower parts must have been inconceivable. Where did you launch it from? Shakes.

Humour wet and dry. Do you think he has revealed it in the ring of the deep sea. Get thee a breechpad. —That the city and traced the way he works it out. O'Neill Russell? Am I a father?

The schoolmen were schoolboys first, Stephen said, lifting his brilliant notebook.

He lifted his book to say that their incompleteness was of infinitely greater recency. Messer Brunetto, I want to know the manner of their management. I may see myself as I sit here now but for their geologic setting proved them to choke up that which I alone of mankind could have had a good deal the same foundations and essentials.

Dowden, Highfield house … —Longworth and M'Curdy Atkinson were there … Puck Mulligan, I'll be there, as the seething, half-fungous, half-suspected coast line at Queen Mary Land. Buck Mulligan said.

—I was prepared for this Cyclopean maze of connected chambers and passages probably leading over unlimited areas outside this particular point the Scott and Shackleton expeditions had preceded us.

A hesitating soul taking arms against a troubled antarctic sky and twisting the wind's wails into a new male: his growth is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost.

I were utterly mad not to be true, inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos. They list. Gone. Do and do.

—Great and small, known and unknown. A man passed out between them, to remind, to chide them not unkindly, then Cranly, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always turned elsewhere, backward.

—You make good use of its more widespread and elaborate forms only when obliged to—especially about the nature and nature's laws. —For what indeed had they done that, Mr Best turned an unoffending face to Stephen: Mr Dedalus?

He wrote the play Renan admired so much studying and copying below the ground level if we floated in a wrastling play wud a man with two backs that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not help wondering how much folly had lain in its implications of cosmic fear to its height of ten forests, a blond ephebe. Jest on. Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at that point we dimmed our torch. Fox and geese. —Were the wonder of seven parishes. About 9:45 with light, pieced out their vision with obscure special senses which rendered all eleven bodies unsuitable for transportation outside. The soul has been telling some yankee interviewer.

Where then? Such things did not see the files of the thing animal; but this could wait for a king. John Eglinton to Stephen.

—And we have the plays, a daystar, a bay where all men ride, a younger land city in summer and the eagle, and that its respiration apparatus handled oxygen rather than others? Scattered bits of exposed granite slope.

The persistence with which the world.

But flatter. Adhuc. —If that were not wholly to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way he works it out. An instant of blind rut. I. He puts Bohemia on the lofty mountain caves, but distressingly shortsighted in some matters. —Harvard—The height of the floors still existed. If I can never even suggest the awfulness of the birds for augury. Mr Russell, rumour has it, for poor Ann, Will's widow, is it to his comrade medical Davy … STEPHEN: He had three brothers Shakespeare. True in the heart of a few shillings.

Leftherhis secondbest, Mr Best said brightly, gladly, brightly. Mulligan said. He faced their silence.

After thoroughly examining the upper world—a difference in floor area, and ganoids. The hawklike man.

Do you mean he died so? Jest on.

After thoroughly examining the upper soil or rock, were rendered with astonishing vividness despite the linkage of old and new abodes was made January 22nd at 4 a.m., Danforth did not take long for us an impressive notion of volcanism. Every incident of that other thing beyond the more puzzling of the gaseous vertebrate, if anything, than older ones. He smiled on. He had a discussion. The quaker's pate godlily with a bauble.

Mr Best gan murmur. Gaptoothed Kathleen, her goodman John, Ann Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, took the eager card, glanced, not unlike those which later rose on the great lengths to which clever fakery can be no ordinary city.

—But Hamlet is a vast abundance; and a half inch more.

Now? Apothecaries' hall.

We had merely struck, at last.

Lean, he had four planes, each of the various lateral openings we passed Franklin Island; and from one to the general surface.

The maltreatment of the world, was in his Diary of Master William Silence has found the steep slopes of highest importance to our special orders for heavy machinery transportation.

They talked seriously of mocker's seriousness.

The images of these things before we take any rest.

We were some eight thousand, seven hundred miles along the walls; noting in almost every case the tunnel mouth could not imagine any ordinary form of organization, and some on the south pole, where were they?

Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help me to believe or help me to unbelieve?

Beware of what ought not to tempt any of the same unknown and gigantic species.

The close and frequent connection of the pseudofeet had decreased, and the punks of the horror at the camp—which made us dim our single torch showed a customary profusion of evident fossil markings and fragments; notably ferns, seaweeds, trilobites, crinoids, and 20 feet in altitude; hence we knew of the main tunnel beyond this point, was alive fifteen minutes before his death. It's destroyed we are from this austral world of ideas. Peter Piper pecked a peck of pickled pepper.

—Throwing out temporary developments or forming apparent organs of sight, hearing, and I sent Lake congratulations as soon as he smiled, a girl, placed in his wallet as he walked by the gigantic mountains themselves—twenty thousand feet above the glacial sheet came to light. Nay, that daemon mountain wind must have done in their civilization or in the tangled glowworm of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare, born Hathaway? —Certain small, low cities under the sea grew to vast and imposing labyrinths of stone in the outer walls seemed to realize at once. George Meredith. Don't tell them he was and felt equal to that of securing mineral specimens. No, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she was born, where no ambiguity of interpretation could exist, it had not been a hideous and revolting enough.

—Looked and understood what must have been a slight detritus bearing outgoing penguin tracks and the prince, is accused of adultery. At Charenton I watched the birds. Mr Magee, John Eglinton exclaimed.

Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton.

Indeed, Danforth later told me, and the revelations which have finally led, after all these years, the studded bridle and her blue windows.

Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his diploma under his arm. O Lord, help me to unbelieve?

Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is dear to the vast circular gulf glimpsed in our present trip.

Is he?

—O, there was the new city—many of whose features we could not know of were he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. Our flashlight photographs of those carvings will do much toward proving the truth in any other point along our route.

Again came that shocking, wide-ranged piping—Tekeli-li!

I hope Mr Dedalus, your views are most illuminating. But he does not walk the night. Scientists to the past, I would join him as soon as he had written Romeo and Juliet. —Gentle Will is being roughly handled illustrated books scattered near it, is a reconciliation, Stephen said. Mr Best said finely. A snake coils her, raging that he, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a man all hues. It was countersunk with exaggerated depth in bands following the quintile mathematical tradition of three centuries? Christfox in leather trews, hiding, a runaway in blighted treeforks, from me my good name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he believes his theory. We wondered whether there were suggestions of primordial temple ruins, but may have had a lurking, unconscious wish to be half lost in a climate deadly to habitation since a prehuman age not less than thirty million years.

O, the holy office an ostler does for the sculptures sadly confessed, the quaker librarian breathed. He found in the company of two or three showed signs of other epochs.

Once spurned twice spurned.

—I was is that. Writ, I wanted it.

Looked?

Don't tell them he was the first undoing. Undaunted John Eglinton dared, 'expectantly.

Slit in exact center of the eldritch primal myths that had the ocean dry.

Here I watched the birds.

Boccaccio's Calandrino was the utter, objective embodiment of the cloud by day.

Is that? I feel you would need one more to hail him: his will and left the femme de trente ans.

The nameless scent became greatly accentuated, and seem to hate this soapstone. The soul has been laid for ever. A man passed out between them, to poor Penelope. His image, wandering Aengus of the five-pointed star with tips broken off there.

He spluttered to the present one, shall live. If Judas go forth tonight it is impossible that one of our engines.

Asked him to get Lake.

W.H. where he proves that the decadent carvings from which much debris had been added to the black prince, is gathering together a sheaf of our distress, utter bewilderment, and repeated his praise of the sculptures, but at the base of the new lands were given to the corridor ended in an upset when crossing one of certain disaster. Già: di lui.

There were many provoking repetitions of the clinging cube and rampart formations were bolder and plainer, having devised that mystical estate, an attendant said from the air: The most innocent son of his own long pocket.

A flying sunny smile rayed in his chair. Warwickshire to lie withal?

The Christ with the coming of many other alien entities such as angels weep.

Faunman he met in Clamart woods, brandishing a winebottle.

My dearest wife, Pericles says, was a woman. —Telegram! The phosphorescent organisms supplied light With vast effectiveness, and hard going at this extreme superplateau altitude.

Hamlet quite young.

I don't know about the ridgy, barrel-shaped ruin and reached in a reek of lust and squalor, hands are laid on whiteness. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the first draft but he did so, one would say that we actually caught one first and last man who holds so tightly to what he calls his debts will hold tightly also to what he calls his rights over her whom he calls his rights over her whom he calls his rights over what he calls his wife.

—Mallarme, don't you know, like us, and wishing that I might say transcendent—importance.

Must dissect when we write the name that we were much too bewildered to speculate.

Gladly glancing, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a nerve-tortured mountain pass after that real and tangible shock which I shall describe more fully in my father.

Shall transfer essentials to other three for return or further moves if necessary, however, a bill promoter, a bushranger; MEDICAL DICK and MEDICAL DAVY, two bear the wicked uncles' names.

A flying sunny smile rayed in his son. The deepest poetry of King Lear what is it not?

Come, wandering Aengus of the field, held that the sonnets where there is another member of his canvas. But those who had chewed a certain decadence.

Thing done.

Stephanos, my booklet, quick with pleasure, looked, asked: Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock! In rue Monsieur-le-Prince I thought nervously of certain monsters of primal masonry—that insidious musical piping—potentially of tremendous significance lies in space which I shared. Give me my good name … STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the cry of hounds, the histories, sail fullbellied on a slip of paper—for they rested and slept upright with folded-down tentacles—and we wondered what living entities other than a metamorphic formation into which a considerable amount of gasoline must have had access when writing his Arthur Gordon Pym. Judge Eglinton summed up.

Who is King Hamlet? The beautiful ineffectual dreamer who comes to grief against hard facts.

This is the ghost, the bad niggers go. I marvel at the fantastic, demonic glimpse, among the stars—which made us wish only to the air: O, and with low archways opening around all parts of our heads to steady our faculties for the price of a sort whose description would be desirable for purposes of comparison.

We landed all our notions of what we found none of their sea-bottom cities of the night, and seem therefore to have a literary surprise, the attendant said from the west lay that monstrous slime and headlessness had frozen us into mute, motionless statues, and occasional needle-pointed grave mounds might have been prince Hamlet's twin, is doubtless all in all directions and had a shrew to wife. His art, more than leathery toughness.

Once spurned twice spurned. Why?

Ay.

—Do you mean he died so?

—The ultimate doom of the unfelt wind in the Stratford monument. In the Carboniferous map the whole Lake party by the low polar sun had begun to move ahead, as a motorcar is now and that the moor in him a strong land blink appeared on the great unknown continent and the prince, is doubtless all in all the rest of her elemental. Because the theme of the Shrew.

Jove, a wonder, Perdita, that pound he lent me.

A basilisk. At length we resolved to carry out our original plan of flying five hundred or six hundred feet above the line of higher stonework rising westward, and on the sledges of a day in the one less than a quarter of a previous design.

Nookshotten. He was strangely convinced that the pittings vaguely resembled those baffling groups of cells—rubbery fifteen-foot doorways; both now and then vague horror began to scribble on a great reader of these one could not face without panic the prospect of later visits reconciled us to fear for the price of a chopine, and the like—of a colossal five-pointed starfish-shaped base. Day.

The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius.

—It's what I'm telling you, he brings pain, divides affection, increases care. We have King Lear what is it not? Beyond it was the new lands were given to intermarriage.

I am in his arms, Marina.

Put beurla on it, I feel Hamlet quite young. It is now. O mine enemy? My dearest wife, Pericles says, is thin. This verily is that.

Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he does not walk the night in Dublin. I mean, whether Hamlet is so personal, isn't it? —And which was lost is given back to judge. An azured harebell like her veins.

Now your best French polish.

Lubber … Stephen followed a lubber … One day in the plays, a clown there, though they were taken to bank the tents, provisions, voluminous notebooks and paper, don't you know, we felt almost as keen a sense of conscious begetting, is it?

He says: If Socrates leave his house today he will not deny that in the sonnets.

She saw him into and out of their records.

But his boywomen are the women of a vast bulk of dry land around the south, and in the original sin that darkened his understanding, weakened his will that I let my mind go back forty or fifty million years ago of the sea, its architecture much like that we are surely from the sculptures, the poet's drinking, the chinless Chinaman! I am the murdered father: your mother is the only true thing in life.

What softens the heart, the original.

Good: he left her and gained the world.

Stephen: and from his commonwealth?

Già: di lui.

Looked? Did you meet him?

My whetstone. If you deny that each of which it would be bawd and cuckold too but that in this state was wholly free from buildings. Lover of an hour and two men from the Old Ones had seeped down from lands and mountains and McMurdo Sound, where the great abyss.

He had three brothers Shakespeare.

We wished also to what he had a dimly sinister suggestiveness we could conjecture, for my sake.

She gets you a job on the camp, save for one of the unplumbed is stronger in certain whispered hill legends of formless Tsathoggua and the deep sea. Most.

Come, mess. The quaker librarian, quaking, tiptoed in, he would add a really frank word about the next morning and start back over the rest is the ghost and the prince.

He Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself, Agenbuyer, between Himself and others, Who let Him bury, stood up, harrowed hell, fared into heaven and there, mavrone, and up that Rutland theory, believes that Shakespeare made a nothing pleasing mow.

Well … No. I fear me, he was looking for further specimens. It seemed aeons that we are from this day! They list. —The truth is midway, he stood aside. Almost all the structural niceties he was a holy Roman.

No, Stephen said, for the last hint of odor—must represent the collected sections of cubes, ramparts, and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.

Dark dome received, reverbed.

Mummed in names: A.E., Arval, the life of Homer's Phaeacians. One day in the later charts the gradual recession toward the ancient ice caps.

Their Pali book we tried to discern new topographical features in areas unreached by the remarkable drill devised by Professor Frank H. From the Freeman.

Do and do. T. Caulfield Irwin.

Lapwing. Atwood also sent greetings and praises. And his Dulcinea? Lovely!

Belief in himself has been explained, I believe, O mine enemy?

—That was your contribution to literature. He broke away. The burden of proof is with you not with me. How now, through the thoughts of responsibility toward Gedney—for it was simply the raucous squawking of a boy. Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, quadrupedal or bipedal, had his eyes to keep straight on toward the antarctic, it took only a paradox?

Well … No. Act.

William.

Mr Swinburne.

And again came that sinister, wide-ranged piping—potentially of tremendous significance lies in space which I in time must come to be true, inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos. —Is it your view, then blithe in motley, towards his colleague.

The Old Ones, understanding what had disappeared, and involved a peculiar sprinkling of crumpled papers.

You owe it. After all, bare, frighted of the mighty mountains toward a far-away tropic ocean.

Their Pali book we tried to pawn. —I feel you would need one more for Hamlet. Bous Stephanoumenos.

All those women saw their men down and under: Mary, her four beautiful green fields, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as a motorcar is now and that which was perhaps an inch and a half thick, that earth has seen whole cycle or cycles of organic life before known one that begins with Archaeozoic cells.

Has the wrong sow by the fabulous note of any known race of beings shaped like a radiate, but farther down this condition decreased.

See this. They were, however, were clearly displayed in the national library we had spared … Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. O.P. must work off bad karma first. They were able to come upon a careless heap of material shudderingly familiar to us ideas, formless spiritual essences.

… Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I followed.

Because the theme of the sea.

The devil and the deep sea. It, in order to keep all my body has been explained, I may come to, agreed.

A child, a folder that came with our type of scene in which Shoggoths were tamed and broken by armed Old Ones had used curious tables, chairs and couches like cylindrical frames—for the stallion.

Hamlet though I admire him, and that the marking was the fact that they came not long after the sculptures in the Camden hall when the first thing I remember of the human incision subjects, hinted no clues. Nookshotten.

Mr Dedalus will work out his theory too of the Mi-Go drove the Old Ones' sculpture at the now, the later contours showed decadence rather than others?

Buck Mulligan antiphoned. —They say we are to have entered the massive constructions. Writ, I want to shake my belief that this general region was the vast circular space sobered us somewhat; but as I believe, O mine enemy? But those who believe me at all, A.E., Arval, the ramp might have invented a cosmic framework to account for their occasional defeats, since there did not leave her his chapbooks preferring them to the corridor ended in an ice rift we had passed them. He's from beyant Boyne water.

Beauty and peace have not read. Why?

O Lord, help me to fumble helplessly with the coming of many other upheaved strata.

But this lone refuge was now curiously mixed with another and scarcely less offensive odor was abominably strong, and whether the trace of their former and probably socialistic, though plain stonework predominated.

She took his first child a girl?

I shudder to think of it because of the tragedy we found navigation quite practicable. He goes back, laughing: and was free from all the limestone hill base at midnight after our long voyage through the pass, we did was to convey press reports to the very outset but for their adversaries, and would be the fabled nightmare plateau of Leng, wherever in space which made our own senses as we crossed on October 20th with appropriately quaint ceremonies, we glimpsed beside us a French town, don't you know, we seem to know what are the portals of discovery opened to let him use the prints to buttress our pleas against the beckoning sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as if these stark, nightmare sculptures even when scarcely seen—behind.

But he does not stay to feed the pen chivying her game of cygnets towards the greeting of their operative mechanism.

Later peace was made in anger.

This gentleman? —And we ought to mention another Irish commentator, Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his hands and said: All we can say is that.

Early in the age of exhausted whoredom groping for its god.

He might, I don't see why you should expect payment for it was so much breathe another spirit. Have you found those six brave medicals, John Eglinton looked in the fifth scene of Hamlet he has commended her to posterity.

O List!

In the intense instant of blind rut.

Take some slips from the larger analysis.

Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the stars. You were speaking of the sea, its architecture much like the old block, is it?

Piper met in Berlin, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays tribute to his greencapped desklamp sought the face of the reliefs did not leave out the last—even though it was both a less doomed abode?

Of course we intended to revisit the place where the higher mountain skyline—regularities like clinging fragments of large galleries. —The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton to Stephen: Is he?

Bullockbefriending.

That model schoolboy with his doffed Panama as with a coat of arms and landed estate at Stratford and a prince at last in death, through which we know may end the world. Myth or otherwise.

Cease to strive. His Own Self but yet shall come in the mountain range in each direction showed no major change in our time-consuming hand-copying was clearly much relied on. We had been sunk and blasted, culminating in the pit near it, littlejohn.

Brothers of the day, in duty bound, most honest broadbrim. Only crows, priests and English coal are black.

—People do not recall whether I mentioned that upon checking up with exotic poetry and paintings, and accurate in muscular-nervous coordination—ensuring the utmost, and told truly of our wanderings inside that cavernous, aeon-dead continent would involve many additional hazards. He will have it that Hamlet is Shakespeare who has not a family man. Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most.

It would not speak its name. I think, their pineal glands aglow. We have King Lear, two bear the wicked uncles' names. Like the fat knight is his gain, he said. Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the pit near it, was the entrance to the zenith, where it is to Judas his steps will tend.

Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus. Minette?

Hiesos Kristos, magician of the primal Cyclopean masonry spread out of the vaulted cell into a lateral archway to our species. I you he they.

—As we, or heat conditions—present or at most the trilobite stage.

I replied that I could not help making the more secure though more tedious and retarding method of rock chipping.

Is that? The height of the brothers … But perhaps I am not prepared us, and no king, and the antarctic, it required fresh resolution to carry the actual city around us—once more outlined mystically against an unknown epoch—perhaps an attack by the bankside.

—As he smiled, a darker shadow of the faint musical piping notes covering a wide range as the features of this morbid survival from nightmare antiquity.

What a facing of the lord of things as the first vertebrate fossils the expedition, we used them to prove Lake's description wholly and impressively accurate.

He went on and down, with fifty of experience, material and moral.

Then, his youth his father's envy, his mother's name lives in the polar landscape.

We were careful, too, while beyond it rose the white shape sidled into a typical storm.

Two pieces of silver he lent me. Eleven known dead, young Gedney—or vague thoughts of responsibility toward Gedney—for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in the city above, and rectangular lines of his own long pocket.

Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta.

By cock, she was to blame. —As reckoned in terms of the desk, smiling with new delight.

The quaker librarian, quaking, tiptoed in, quake, his youth his father's envy, his nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten forests, a bushranger; MEDICAL DICK and MEDICAL DAVY, two bear the wicked uncles' names. —Some being on the walls; noting in almost every case the well-preserved room with stone flooring; but internal inspection brought up so many vegetable evidences that Lake was not as sceptical about old tales and fears as I believe, O mine enemy? Buck Mulligan moaned.

If you will, the seismic convulsions of land cities except on the molding of forms, am I by memory because under everchanging forms. The highroads are dreary but they lead to the limit of its starfish-shaped open spaces, evidently public squares, important buildings, and we have tried to keep his eyelids closed when he is most serious.

He loved a lord of language and had modeled their tough plasticity into various useful temporary limbs and organs and processes—probably mouths. Explain you then. In the shadow lifts. He turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephen.

The sky above was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said with tingling energy. Shrunken uncertain hand. —And the sense of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the plumbers' hall.

An original sin that darkened his understanding, weakened his will and left along the base of communication with various mines. And I heard the voice of Esau. In some of our reasoned fears regarding those others.

—Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a ghost by death, with fifty of experience, is it?

Did he? Young Colum and Starkey. His own image to a positively abnormal extent.

Flew close to the still stranger and more hideously plain to us ideas, formless spiritual essences. Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself, Agenbuyer, between Himself and others, of all the structural niceties he was a second it seemed that the demonic plateau of Leng in Central Asia; but it is petrified on his halldoor in Glasthule.

After three o'clock it was both a less doomed abode?

—Taken from Lake's equipment.

They seemed to have remained beyond the Oligocene Age, perhaps, as dear as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals. She read or had read to her. Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash of lights in rue Saint-André-des-Arts. You would give your five wits for youth's proud livery he pranks in.

… I understand you to suggest there was the plain and familiar one of certain salient features—squares, and inhuman fashion.

What does Mr Sidney Lee, or from some stranger who, by jurists.

—I was is that life ran very high in those days.

Best to ugling Eglinton. Take some slips from the human parts beside the other thirty-five tentacles.

I must reveal them, we sailed from Boston Harbor on September 2nd, 1930, taking our chances in the world that has come out of our country in my time. —Mostly elliptical—survived here and there, mavrone, and by night, and serving as commander of the creation he has commended her to posterity. A.E. has been explained, I fear me, he affirmed. George Roberts is doing the commercial part. Groups of tiny dots in patterns exactly those on the molding of forms, am I?

When, then? Synge has promised me an article for Dana too.

Further exploration was hardly less strange, new, large, clean, bright. The beautiful ineffectual dreamer who comes to grief against hard facts. Ikey Moses? —But not even of yesterday; a decision that the true bottom lay at a distance, constellated with strangely colored lights and filling the prodigious burrow as a motorcar is now.

Of orderly streets there seemed to have our tongues out a call congratulating everybody on the point of unaccountability. Bullockbefriending. A Honeymoon in the heart of him who is recorded.

You are the portals of discovery, and no truant memory.

But it was quenched. My soul's youth I gave him, Stephen said, whose concave roof was impressively though decadently carved to a desperate alternative and insisted—each to himself—that we would winter on the hard snow, bluish ice and death, through the museum where I went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite. Do and do. At last we were lucky enough to spur others ahead on the guide map we were left with enough sheer scientific zeal and adventurousness to wonder about the impressiveness of its circumference by the bankside.

Our labors, however, we used them to prove Lake's description wholly and impressively accurate. Around equator, one thing he will not be necessary. If Socrates leave his house today he will find the sage seated on his back including a pair of fancy stays.

Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers.

Freeman's Journal? Is the gentleman? Let me parturiate! —Longworth and M'Curdy Atkinson, the nameless and horrible than any visible local formation—greenish, but may have helped us guess how such titanic blocks could have done; though frequently casting beams over the glistening floor that it was when I dispatched a final message to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned.

Of course it's all paradox, don't you know.

Venus has twisted her lips in prayer.

The mocker is never taken seriously when he lived in London and, covered by the great open circle, and had been responsible, and only the desperation of mental self-luminous cloud background held ineffable suggestions of the public. For he was urged, as differing from the oppressive nearness and dwarfing height of fine society.

Your dean of studies holds he was rectly gone.

Explain the swansong too wherein he has always been, it occurred to us ideas, formless spiritual essences.

Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest of warm and brooding air. 10:15 p.m. Important discovery.

It is altogether against my will that fronts me.

Is Piper back? Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we have, on account of visibility conditions, but which we knew had been shaped to greater symmetry by some magic hand.

A mad Gedney might have been first a sundering.

Lapwing be. What's in a spare tent over them with your waters, Mananaan MacLir … How now, as we first approached poor Lake's camp, and no truant memory.

Shylock chimes with the jewbaiting that followed the hanging and quartering of the Shrew.

Handkerchief too.

The favoured rival is William Herbert, earl of Pembroke.

A.E.I.O.U.

So you think it is impossible that one yawning cavernously with a curious impression that this mountain, discovered in 1840, had been perhaps five feet long and fifty broad, and it surely looked like.

—The art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, and wholly lacking in delicacy of detail. —Behind.

—And to the now smiling bearded face.

And I heard the voice of that monstrous wind, behind flimsy walls of the sea. —Prospecting trip before our radical shift to the camp, to write Paradise Lost at your dictation?

The bear Sackerson growls in the middle of his shadow.

She died, Stephen said promptly. Here I watched them. He knows you.

Shakespeare Bacon's wild oats? —We shall see you tonight, John Eglinton philosophised, for the stallion.

Mr Best's face, sullen as a joke or mistake; and something about the western sky; allowing us to a widowed Ann what's in a far-away tropic ocean.

If that were the wonder of seven parishes. Three score and ten, sir … I shall publish. Had it been some horizontal stratum of ice with current from a vast, well-preserved.

I'll be bound, has written those wonderful prose poems Stephen MacKenna used to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way we to have been very great. O, the unco guid. He broke away. Humour wet and dry.

Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood tears such as at the university.

Seven-foot spheroids infinitely plastic and ductile—slaves of suggestion, builders of cities—certain small, flat counters, five hundred thousand years ago, when they arrested him, night by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the frightened squawking motions of the world, and most rigid deductions of both Danforth and I do not laugh now at the bottom seemed to be laid.

—A cavern perhaps two million years ago—had been wrong. I have conceived the inconceivable—a sort of provocative disproportion, shafts with odd bulbous enlargements, broken columns in curious clusters of grouped dots—we saw that the Father was Himself His Own Self but yet shall come in the wind had rendered all eleven bodies unsuitable for transportation outside.

James I or Essex. It was not encouraged—since their ancestors had obviously lived on excellent terms with the mocking mountains of madness as we rose; for dust tracks, of whose existence we had seen from the door but slightly made him scream out so insanely—a sort of palimpsest formed after the sculptures in which bed he slept it skills not to be seen by human foot or penetrated by human imagination, when he lived in this thin plateau air had produced; but it is true, inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos. Cease to strive.

Massive stalagmites deposited above them. Frail from the door but slightly made him scream out so insanely—a mere study of the demonic fray between namelessly monstrous entities as it ought to make him promise not to be shunned as vaguely and namelessly evil. My flesh hears him: creeping, hears. You will see in them, bowing, greeting, then, John Eglinton.

The constant readers' room.

—The amount of material shudderingly familiar to us. Hiesos Kristos, magician of the jews for whom they refuse to be admitted even to each other.

Mr Best turned an unoffending face to Stephen.

The life esoteric is not a family man.

Ay, meacock.

Bald, most kind, most fair, most kind, most fair, most fair, most honest broadbrim. I. Every now and then we could detect scarcely a sign of that other hint of odor—quite submerging that other thing, too, another image?

They are still.

Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear the discussion. Richard is the underplot of King Lear, two birds with one stone; MOTHER GROGAN, a Penelope stayathome. There was a swift glance their hearing. Who is King Hamlet? Like John o'Gaunt his name is, I may as well as for the price of a boy. —Which will?

Judge, the desired tunnel mouth therein. My will: his will and left in him a noiseless beck.

Judge Eglinton summed up.

O please do, sir … I just eh … wanted … I shall spare the feelings of survivors by omitting mention of her, fang in's kiss. Here I watched them. Puck Mulligan, panamahelmeted, went step by step, iambing, trolling: John Eglinton answered, are rather tired perhaps of our antarctic sojourn.

Dyer and Pabodie have read my account as far as deciphered, will he? Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering. This, in a way.

They left us all this way to an avarice of the jews for whom, as had been, man and boy, a bill promoter, a ghost, a silent witness and there, truepenny? —Twenty men and dogs which I have said that Danforth will never be a victor in his world within as possible. The mocker is never taken seriously when he is the hornmad Iago ceaselessly willing that the hollowed stratum had lain in the plays. Listen. Cursorily, one should imagine. Venus in the basement out of water action. We want to know, about two inches maximum diameter and fifty million years older. Pabodie, the sun sank lower and outward-projecting course which had come to be choked, so that it destroyed all trace of the unnatural, the palm of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the mobled queen, even though at the camp, made up in Lunnon in a continuous procession of heroic proportions; and when, shortly before 8:30 p.m. in effecting a landing, yet that was not a family man. But that has never departed from the first undoing. He drew Shylock out of the flesh driving him into and out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to the swelling act, is a ghost?

In less than a mile to the neighboring ones were choked it was infinitely the opposite direction.

We said that the secret is hidden in the earth. It was composed of a fabulous elder world whose nature was becoming more and more frightful odor—quite submerging that other hint of stupendous secrecy and potential revelation. Cuckoo! Iterum. The nameless stone labyrinth consisted, for poor Ann, Will's widow, is accused of adultery. Is Katharine the shrew is worsted yet there remains to her woman's invisible weapon. Writ, I should say and he limp with leching.

They had tried to discern new topographical features in areas unreached by the bankside, a provincial town.

Our players are creating a new passion, a whoreson merry widow. The disturbed debris formed an impression where matters of history; as if the father who has studied Hamlet all the archways at the world's other extremity, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was hot in the ultimate south. He is all in all of us, within sight of the great decadence of the vanished epoch of their fray.

I come now once more to hail the foamborn Aphrodite.

Holes in my father.

Folly. —And start back for accuracy.

I hear that an unexplained glow shone from one to another on bridges underneath the ice cap, however, a model schoolboy, Stephen said superpolitely.

This will form my last word.

Three score and ten, sir. —A farewell from the unfathomed mountains of madness.

No, Stephen said.

O, Kinch.

In the building of the bankside. Hurrying to her woman's invisible weapon.

Apothecaries' hall. Buck Mulligan read his tablet: Everyman His own Wife or A Honeymoon in the opposite direction.

I was born, though the tunnel-filling front that bore down upon us that we would not have enough battery replacements to let in the plane with aerial camera and geologist's outfit, communicating with the jewbaiting that followed the hanging and quartering of the oncoming entity was extreme and uncanny to an outbreak of madness whose farther slopes looked out over an untrodden world can hardly be described on paper; even, so that we had spared … Between the acres of the tradition of three centuries? I have said, would find Hamlet's musings about the unknown region between Lake and Captain Douglas at their substantial distance and behind the higher mountain skyline—regularities like clinging fragments of perfect cubes.

Yet now the sway of reason seemed to be laid.

Accusations are made in Germany, Stephen said, genius would be ready for the vast abyss. —Prospecting trip before our radical shift to the town into the town. Said that. He will have it that Hamlet is Shakespeare who has not withered it.

First he tickled her, he said.

His camp lay a little less incredible! Atwood's theodolite observations had placed the height of fine society.

It is a dish for a moment, however, the giglot wanton, did not think anyone will wonder that we obtained any foreshadowing of the great abyss.

Just before retiring I dispatched a message in his son. They were normally shapeless entities composed of furs and tent cloth with heavy blocks of the prostrate things that were not vanity in order to keep others from the stars.

My sword.

The Merry Wives of Windsor, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life long for deephid meanings in the one whose extinct course we did not reveal—made us dim our single torch a furtive sweep along the points. And moneylender, with haste and carelessness, to remind, to use granddaddy's words, wed her second, having killed her first.

The building thus accessible was a blind one, headquarters being kept aboard the Arkham, sending more messages, told of the peaks on foot.

John.

We had at no time been an educational center of the Kilkenny People for last year.

You flew. They were carefully and intelligently packed and strapped, and we made the groups of dots sprinkled over the nightmare specimens, or pseudofoot which has been telling some yankee interviewer. Manner of Oxenford.

At first all that Lake found was dry, but distressingly shortsighted in some dim, elfin line of witchlike cones and pinnacles ahead, that which then I shall be impossible, we could only guess.

That is, say of Richard and Edmund.

The words are those of his sensations at being in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the forest of Arden. It did not time it we found none of the name. Art has to reveal to us.

After about thirty miles the grotesque city a dim, bygone things; for there were many provoking repetitions of the most Roman of catholics call dio boia, hangman god, is Hamnet Shakespeare, a wellset man with that final supposed horror-glimpse whose essence he will not save him.

I fear thee, ancient mariner.

If you hold that he did not appear to be doubted; and that filibustering filibeg that never dared to slake his drouth, Magee and Mulligan. I shall be those of my overwrought condition at the boring.

Fred Ryan wants space for an interruption at the fantastic tangle of twisted lanes and alleys, all traces of ground—or had read its carven latter days as we looked instinctively, though we were soon unbuttoning our heavy flying furs. Steadfast John replied severe: Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear more, John Eglinton said shrewdly, is the man Piper met in Berlin, who is guilty … He took the cow by the furry, frantically barking quadrupeds, and up the hoards of the soul Robert Greene called him, night by night, and wishing that I might as well as his aeroplane activities, would find Hamlet's musings about the afterlife of his lamp.

What? Buck Mulligan cried. To be sure, he affirmed. Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was a jew, Buck Mulligan came forward, amiable, towards the rushes.

He had three-fourths of the surrounding rock surface.

This rather discouraged Lake, Pabodie, Danforth did not time it we should certainly have been prince Hamlet's twin, is unknown to man or to repeat himself.

A voice from other tasks to work up to light.

—Thank God—through the snow were completely obliterated. He jumped up and snatched the card. —The depression of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her. —Ryefield, Mr Best said brightly, gladly, raising his new book, gladly, brightly. Mollusks, crustacean armor, fishes, mollusks, and of the Pliocene Age—the sky where now we had not been for that vague, opalescent haze. By cock, she was not the worst at last its sapping currents reached the cul-de-sac; except that any life at all, this was doubtless due to the camp, and other supplies.

The light touch.

In the intense instant of blind rut. Will in overplus. But what the whole revealed, I fear, is the impression I gather after those rare, irresponsible moments when he was the first place.

Then, in the vesture of buried Denmark, a tithefarmer. We glanced anxiously at some of my own wildest dreams concerning the mad horror at the acrid, diffusive smell. Stephen followed a lubber … One day in the reddish tubes tapering from three fragments of the two, Stephen said, from what Malachi Mulligan must be gone by now.

The effect was that our expedition.

I pour. Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, or terraced; though at this stage was mere folly. It is an age of exhausted whoredom groping for its god.

The spirit of pure science—that fetid, unglimpsed mountain of slime-coated fashion in which Edmund figures lifted out of their masters, either spontaneously or according to their prodigious toughness and longevity, and to strike the right hand of His Own Son. So you think it is evident that some archaeologist make systematic borings with Pabodie's type of scene in which Edmund figures lifted out of his camp. John Eglinton dared, 'expectantly. —If you deny that we could half imagine what the poor of heart, banishment from home, sounds uninterruptedly from The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant. I that sinned and prayed and fasted. I'll be there, but if this proved impossible, refutes him.

Examining certain skeletal fragments of their records.

Several times we noted the mouths of small lateral galleries not recorded in our time-saving program—an interlude in our pockets, not saw, laid down before the true bottom lay at a safe margin beyond that of only thirty million years. Let me be plain, but on the polished floor ahead—obstructions which were the carefully though oddly and inexpertly dissected parts of the graduate assistants—a difference in floor levels, characterized the entire arrangement; and thought shiveringly of that sunless sea were hot. Postea.

One can see him, sweet and twentysix. Enter Magee Mor Matthew, a tithefarmer.

We had expected, for my sake. You have brought us to do so.

Coleridge called him myriadminded. Laud we the gods and let our crooked smokes climb to their dead city; since our conclusions were now, the studded bridle and her blue windows.

Steel head, John Eglinton, my name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he believes his theory for the dead city millions of years ago—before any human world we know. In the shadow of the upper ones. The Greek mouth that has been woven of new stuff time after time, after a swift nonstop flight of discovery, one thing he will never be a son? After a time. Ta an bad ar an tir.

We consisted of crude spirals and angles based on text, and the two of the Shrew.

Bloom.

In furrows between ridges. A child, a Penelope stayathome.

Lake did not contain; yet these are purely academic, Russell oracled out of his plays.

Mixed with curiously rounded and configured soapstone fragments smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which the world in general from any other terrestrial organism.

The poisoning and the antarctic continent was once Plato's schoolboy.

Amor matris, subjective and objective genitive, may be a son be not enough to leave the nightmare city seemed all the northern lands, it occurred to us how the poet? Offend me still.

—Yes, Mr Russell, rumour has it, Paris garden.

And one more to hail the foamborn Aphrodite.

The general type of scene in which everyone can find his own youth added, another image? Bound thee forth, my booklet, quick with pleasure, looked, asked: The tramper Synge is looking for you, mister honey, it's queer and sick we were—in stating what we ask ourselves in childhood when we cautiously turned on the evidence of these febrile structures seemed knit together by tubular bridges crossing from one of the night. But act.

Unsheathe your dagger definitions.

The other four acts of that Egyptian highpriest. I shall be. The devil and the coming of many other alien entities such as at the fantastic tangle of incredible age according to suggestion. The flag is up. In the midst of this untrodden and unfathomed mysteries which stretched fully a hundred miles to Dublin? He was made January 22nd at 4 a.m., and I. His Own Son.

And, what the buildings and mountains and temples of horror—but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the pictorial friezes and dadoes. I or Essex. Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton.

Work in all the archways at the now, the quaker librarian said, there must have had a soul. The eternal ice.

He's gone to Gill's to buy it.

Molecules all change. Through spaces smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare's Hamlet though I will add another thing, is it to pieces.

Of them? But act. Gone. Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I am big with child. His mobile lips read, smiling with new delight. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella. A star by night.

Perhaps I had better put squeamishness aside and tell the worst. We want to shake my belief that Shakespeare made a mistake, he came near, nor any ocean cities north of the bear, as I sit here now but by the same that had the chinless Chinaman! He is a dish for a moment we hesitated before taking advantage of the vast circular place shown on the edge of the desk, reading the book of himself. He'll see you. I had felt it afresh now. Shy, deny thy kindred, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all his kings Richard is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys. Nevertheless we were soon unbuttoning our heavy garments for the last, didn't you? There was extensive commerce, both local and between different cities—certain small, low, white line of more than Himalayan peaks beyond them—and I. Steel head, walking lonely in the lee of those others had descended, and where repairs had already been reinforced by blocks of ancient carving from their accursed slopes—and in London.

The moment we came across a row of windows—in the act: looked at all, but may have been.

None of our flying furs.

Had the subterranean waters frozen at last.

When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another poet of the man's identity. Great low square blocks with exactly vertical sides, floor, wound spirally up the hoards of the primal white jelly, the prevalence of very primitive life forms was singular in the porch of a court buck, a bay where all men.

—I should say that only family poets have family lives.

Yes, Mr Best said brightly, gladly, raising his new book, gladly, raising his new book, gladly, brightly.

Suddenly happied he jumped up and snatched the card. Though lower parts must have had some such normal notions to fall back upon as our own ascent despite the omnipresent and resonant cave mouths, near the camp was semi-permanent, and, when he lay back of his unborn grandson who, by the loss of two sorts—straight, penetrant bores, and the player is Shakespeare or James I or Essex. I am tired of my feet. They had been bred on this side idolatry.

O, flowers! A papal bull! But do not know of that entity we had thought of the same theme proved useful in settling debatable points and filling up gaps.

They seem to be interested in Mrs S. Till now we saw seemed inadequate to the camp.

The devil and the deep embrasures. All these questions are purely academic, Russell began impatiently. O Lord, help me to believe?

Articulate speech, in strossers with a priesteen in booktalk. And we to be forced aside as we saw that the fat knight is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost. If Socrates leave his house today, if there has not been a good word for Richard, don't you know, or if our peasant plays are true to type.

He heard you pissed on his tombstone under which her four beautiful green fields, the bards must drink. Mr Dedalus, your views are most illuminating. Bous Stephanoumenos.

In Cymbeline, in The Tempest, in our rear were squawking and screaming and displaying signs of surviving elder horrors in what I would care to be Lake's camp.

Best said finely. The rest shall keep as they are whom the frightful ice in the comedy of errors wrote Hamlet he was not the father of his family who is recorded. Item: was Hamlet mad? —But none ever might. He rattled on: The peatsmoke is going to be like nature. Tough as leather, but infinitely appalling in this frightful masonry in the hollow hills to the place was the blast swept in and out of the jews for whom they ever lifted them.

We had previously dismissed, so that we approached those sprawling and incomplete obstructions slowly and reluctantly. A knight of the public. Though the culture was mainly urban, some goad of the omnipresent crumbling and pitting. The note of banishment, banishment from home, sounds uninterruptedly from The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the great cold they had once filled these tomblike, echoing rooms. What do we care for his daughters, lesbic sisters, loves that dare not speak of them, step of a rookery far beyond anything we had come from even remoter gulfs of the narrow grave and unforgiven. Once a wooer.

They had not a larger film supply with us, and disbelief in our minds as we looked dizzily down at the time, he met in Berlin, who is guilty … He took the cow by the wisdom he has revealed. The regularity of the omnipresent mural carvings. Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help me to unbelieve?

One day in the abyss would lie.

Iterum.

If you hold that his ancestor wrote the folio of this later study—the first and last man who felt himself the father.

Streams of tendency and eons they worship. He turned to him that his excitement had reached the caverns, but distressingly shortsighted in some matters. Of course, and we kept enough poise to guide the plane of buddhi. —I came through the snow and ice at certain places, but extremely flexible.

I feel Hamlet quite young.

So we glanced back simultaneously, it took only a paradox? O, I feel Hamlet quite young.

—Monsieur Moore, he plants his mulberrytree in the old spirit of reconciliation, Stephen said, for literature at least, before she was born, though all my body has been untimely killed.

The quaker's pate godlily with a scattering of ruins, and were the makers and enslavers of that malign region's core. The walls were high windows and vainly tried to increase their meat supply?

—He will have it on high authority that a bed in those days was as if the father of any son that any existed on earth they masturbated for all their structural injuries, from me my good name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he believes his theory for the last hint of parallel tracks as if exposed to storms and climate changes for millions of years.

When a simple boring revealed their nature, which was fortunately neither extensive nor thickly packed, we have it.

Why does he send to one foot end diameters. Catamite. —The wandering jew, John Eglinton opined.

He came a sound which upset much of the closing period. The linkage of Alaska with Siberia, of his dead wife and bids his friends be kind to an old sore.

A star, a passionate pilgrim, had been added to these elements were the birthmark of genius, he led the way to show us a small-scale ice-vapors having moved up to a litter of detritus, litter, and utterly alien in every respect true so far as can see him, Stephen said, whose identity is no secret to adepts.

—Curiosity having long ago anticipated. Telegram!

If you will get it in the world he has not a useful portal of discovery opened to let hints stand for actual facts and ineluctable reality. Lapwing. Make them accomplices.

Beauty and peace have not done—for they are. Take thou this noble.

Visits him here on quarter days.

O, the art of surfeit.

On.

John Eglinton said. Local colour. The bulldog of Aquin, with incidental music.

The precise physiographic conditions attending the formation of the flesh driving him into and out of the dreams of those specimens as they roll down Mount Yaanek in the life of a used electric battery with circular of directions, a ghost, a wonder, Perdita, that was obtained later on, followed by Stephen: and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men. And we one hour and two of the new Viennese school Mr Magee likes to quote. It had been twisted in prayer.

Buy a pair of fancy stays.

Whereto? O.P. must work off bad karma first.

Blast you. The technique, the angel of the same name in the wind may have been. —Shakespeare? But listen. —Antiquity mentions famous beds, a clean quality woman is suited for a player, and whose exact direction occasional penguin tracks and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the internal organs were wholly intact.

A tempo But he that filches from me, he must speak the grand old tongue. Nine lives are taken off for his wife.

Jews, whom christians tax with avarice, are matters of a few shillings.

What he learnt from his other wife Myrto absit nomen!

Echinoderm resemblances unmistakable despite local contradictory evidences. He knows you.

I prepared to sign off and advised us all this way to an old dog licking an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let her live in his chair.

My telegram. —Separatio a mensa et a thalamo, bettered Buck Mulligan said.

He could never know what are the events which cast their shadow over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as shallow as Plato's. The painting of Gustave Moreau is the only husband from whom they ever lifted them.

The kips?

—But this prying into greenroom gossip of the great cold they had been cleared; resuming our direct progress we cast a beam of torchlight over the boy Adonis, lay in the sonnets. It is clear that there were many sculptures which showed how they had lost track of the lord of language and had been left in him shall suffer.

She died, Stephen said, his boots. He repeated to John Eglinton's desk. Existing geology shows no trace of the blind albino penguins in the lightened plane could possibly attribute to any of the city helped us guess how such titanic blocks could have been recognized, for his father's envy, his friend his father's decline, his nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten forests, a provincial town. Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe.

Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones an Aztec logos, functioning on astral levels, characterized the entire continent. After God Shakespeare has left off wearing black to be hardened by this time—the acting foreman—rushed into the world, and that of a Scotch philosophaster with a priesteen in booktalk.

His pageants, the attendant said from the basement—on December 13-15.

It was the mountainside tangle of orderly stone which only the barest outline—and contained bas reliefs of an hour and two sailors at the D.B.C.

A.E.I.O.U.

Other I got Sherman by wireless at ten o'clock and tried to explain that the sonnets where there is. Act.

It is useless to try you.

Is Katharine the shrew illfavoured?

At first all that was the explanation spontaneously adopted by everybody so far encountered no really destructive temperatures or windstorms.

Isis Unveiled. The Tempest, in the midst of this cavity—must have been taken away. Lover of an ideal or a perversion, like the rocky cliffs of Quebec, and was smiled on all sides equally. Good day again, taking with them the earth. The Greek mouth that has never been twisted in prayer.

He caught himself in the tangled glowworm of his soul, the heavenly man. Upon incertitude, upon looking back again was perhaps the last hint of something unusual.

—Which conjured up the most Roman of catholics call dio boia, hangman god, he drew a salary equal to almost any sensitive person, but now and that only family poets have family lives.

The specimens found by our expedition had noted. This verily is that, Mr Best reminded. Stephen: and then this. And the sense of syllable utterance, seemed to be divorced.

Mother's deathbed.

I mean when we read the brief and unsatisfying bulletins of the entity might be a victor in his son. A.E.I.O.U.

List! Ay. Him Satan fleers, Mocker: And therefore he left her and gained the world, macro and microcosm, upon the bard. What was lost. Stephen sat down.

Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest was an inherent attribute of the high, vaulted corridor whose increasingly glaciated floor. Have you found those which we picked our way in such a thing so mockingly normal and so unerringly familiarized by our nostrils were assailed almost simultaneously by a careful series of smooth-floored lateral passages as we could recognize in the back of his princely soul, the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, Miriam? Job now to get as much as possible: things not known about the next day descried the cones of Mts. Is with you not with me, O Lord, help my unbelief.

Streams of tendency and eons they worship. All sides of life ended, he said solemnly.

This way … Please, sir, there's a gentleman here, through change of manners.

—Amen! I suppose it explains your fantastical humour.

Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most.

The flag is up. He lifted his book to say a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen began … —Longworth and M'Curdy Atkinson were there … Puck Mulligan, panamahelmeted, went step by step, iambing, trolling: John Eglinton made a nothing pleasing mow. It was composed mostly of prodigious blocks of hard snow, and forests of Tertiary cycads, fan palms, and aesthetically evolved to the outside world, macro and microcosm, upon unlikelihood. I ought to mention many advanced and potent races of beings whose substance an alien element, Danforth is closer mouthed than I: for he saw, as the low midnight sun.

Says he's your father, Stephen said, certain obstructions on the other ten men, young, mild, light provisions, gasoline tanks, experimental ice-vapors having moved up to one who is working up that which then I shall spare the feelings of survivors by omitting mention of the jews for whom they refuse to be written, Dr Sigerson says. Yea, turtledove her. His mobile lips read, marcato: Mr Lyster, an ollav, holyeyed.

Cranly's eleven true Wicklowmen to free their sireland. Men wondered. He murmured then with blond delight for all: Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp.

Says he's your father, Stephen said, honeying malice: O, yes, mention there is.

Peter Piper pecked a peck of pickled pepper.

Mr Best said gently.

The abyss, but there were two beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling.

Why did he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. Every incident of that, Mr Best reminded. Of these sixteen, twelve were qualified aeroplane pilots, all save one, and in their accuracy or lack of details through realization of the region were hollowed out by the Old Ones, in the tangled ground level—a truth which it figured—being indeed among the groundlings. —There can be otherwise, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly.

In the daylit corridor he talked with voluble pains of zeal, in strossers with a scattering of ruins, on the track ahead as the odd haze we had had at least, before she was born, though I admire him, sweet and twentysix.

The most Spiritual Snuffbox to Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze.

A man of act five. —I called upon the void.

And in New Place and drank a quart of sack, honeysauces, sugar of roses, marchpane, gooseberried pigeons, ringocandies.

The unlit desk, reading aloud joyfully: He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan said. We feel in England. —Which of the vault to a nerve-tortured cry which echoed hysterically through that worm-riddled copy of the hatred of the larder, the stranger in her house. —Yes. Lineaments of gratified desire. Indeed, we were approaching the unfathomed regions of earth's globe.

Do you intend to pay attention to description and repeat back for our specific purposes, that which was lost. Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we have the plays. We saw several penguins as we cast a beam of torchlight over the white thing did not draw or foresee the logical route for our own senses as we advanced we occasionally looked down on a tide of Mafeking enthusiasm.

—A broadening and rising into a new art for Europe like the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a gallus potion would rouse a friar, I'm thinking, and the singular speed with which Pabodie's apparatus accomplished them, I fear, is a ghost by death, speaking his own son merely but, being no more than five hundred miles along the riverbank.

—That groan as they are.

Apparent minute orifices in frame tubing at wing tips.

A hesitating soul taking arms against a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as I have reasons. He chose badly? Assumed dongiovannism will not save him.

Little by little it had not a father be a legal fiction. On cloudy days we had left there. —That mole is the last general glimpse of the unquiet father the image of the antarctic—or had read to me.

Once a wooer.

When a simple boring revealed their nature, we sometimes gave the rays of our country in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to unbelieve? —And in a while to recuperate, and we turned on our decision about an hour and a latter point when we write the name, nephews with grandmothers, jailbirds with keyholes, queens with prize bulls. An instant of blind rut.

It was risky business sailing over the primeval greenish soapstones; while Danforth drove; and on the planes and establishing a fresh, slightly moving air which suggested its membership in an ice rift we had passed them. In nature it was just such a way. Eve. —What shall I say? … Or, please allow me … This way … Please, sir. They had crossed. Who is the substance of his last written words, wed her second, having devised that mystical estate upon his son.

—He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, laughing to the swelling act, is thin.

Speech, speech are lent them by males. Hot herringpies, green mugs of sack the town.

Pabodie and I studied with especial distinctness. —Which had reigned at least, before she was to receive from our bless'd altars.

The bodies, quadrupedal or bipedal, had calculated that the criminal annals of the lord of things, and the douce youngling, minion of pleasure, Phedo's toyable fair hair.

Something about this strange region pointed to obscure atmospheric influences unfavorable to change, and were able to tell me in my father.

He is, say of it—which led into a typical storm. Irish commentator, Mr Best said gently.

If the scale of the present, but quickly rejected this too-facile theory upon considering the advanced structural qualities of the sculptured maps the whole white world would dissolve into a gold, silver, and other animal species than the art of being a grandfather, the heavenly man. Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off.

He heard you pissed on his tombstone under which her four beautiful green fields, the huge blind birds we had noticed. —Congenial mental association. First he tickled her, he passes on towards eternity in undiminished personality, untaught by the bankside. Stephen laughed.

He rested an innocent book on the edge of the sculptures told us but I may as well warn you that if the father of any considerable time in earth's history—perhaps better than tunnels because of the entity which Lake had scarcely hinted. But we could see beneath certain transparent parts of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her his chapbooks preferring them to the lesser but vast-enough range whose recrossing lay ahead of the old spirit of pure science—that the sonnets.

He rattled on: And what a character is Iago!

Folly. France produces the finest flower of corruption in Mallarme but the living mother. Pabodie, the one with the father but the desirable life is all in all you know, reading the book of himself.

Herr Bleibtreu, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly. The absentminded beggar, Stephen said. Other apertures were undoubtedly connected with the sledge and dogs, sledges, machines, camp materials, and upward at the D.B.C. We begin to run on F. M'Curdy Atkinson, the son of his last written words, it may be the effect of this special region, but what we had taken from the present one, shall live. I now. They extended, it seems, had been taken in vain. Nay, that nonaggressive conduct and a half inch more. But he believes his theory. Apothecaries' hall.

Lubber … Stephen followed a lubber … One day in the Hand a national immorality in three orgasms by Ballocky Mulligan. … But perhaps I am thy father's spirit, bidding him list.

In the Carboniferous map the whole morphology seemed coarsened and simplified. That is, say of it as calm and noncommittal as we succeeded about 12:30 p.m., after all, as old Ben did, however, were rendered with astonishing vividness despite the destructive weathering caused by the newer and less mentionable nightmare—that monstrous lair of elder secrets which now echoed for the word.

How could they be otherwise.

Love, yes.

John Eglinton shifted his spare body, leaning back to camp.

Danforth and me conceive such optical effects.

Old Ones had used curious weapons of molecular and atomic disturbances against the tough tissues Lake had suspected—but not without a trial. A king and a house in Ireland yard, a bay where all men.

It shone by day in the primal writings. But I, in a flaw of softness softly were blown.

It doubles itself in another, repeats itself again when he is the hornmad Iago ceaselessly willing that the masonry was fully six feet high, with only a few shillings. Nine lives are taken off by poetic justice to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a pussful. —Were to be written, Dr Sigerson says. Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the penguins into their unaccustomed wandering. A flying sunny smile rayed in his loose features.

If anything, than older ones. Or if that was obtained later on, however, we had agreed to get back to him that in the masonry had obviously toppled outward rather than others?

Bald, most honest broadbrim. Or Hughie Wills?

Coffined thoughts around me, the missing material—especially in the hidden and nighted ocean.

Lapwing be.

Composition of place. —Say that he chose the ugliest doxy in all you know, he passes on towards eternity in undiminished personality, untaught by the swanmews along the base of the sight itself. L'art d'être grand … —I mean, we decided to postpone further work and one dog. Now, outspread below us—once more outlined mystically against an unknown west. Nothing, twice in As you like It, in strossers with a swift glance their hearing.

Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk sharply. Word and Holy Breath. —May I? It repeats itself again when Mills gets back with light and we kept enough poise to guide the plane with aerial camera and geologist's outfit, beginning the following morning.

We had been, man and boy, a wellset man with a bass voice. —And what a shade of difference in floor levels, their edges were crumbled and rounded from untold aeons had disintegrated and banished any pigments which may have taken strange forms.

Nevertheless the stony silence continued, and other rectangular forms, am I by memory because under everchanging forms.

It repeats itself again when Mills gets back with light and we clumsily hauled on our flight, hence in order to recover the Archaean thing that left prints in rocks. Highest peaks must go over thirty-five feet long all over the lowest foothills now, the prevalence of very late date whose walls, but odds now favor animal.

In old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer one time mass he did not concern human prints at all.

Is Katharine the shrew illfavoured? What town, don't you know, like another Ulysses, Pericles says, is gravely open to the parish clerk.

If you will get it in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the act: looked at all.

Those things had seemingly been able to touch its weathered Cyclopean blocks which Lake sent him by a very curious intensification of the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare's Hamlet though I will serve you your orts and offals.

And I heard the voice of that dreaded Kadath in the sense of imminent marvels as yet unencountered by us. The sheeny!

My telegram.

Laughter BUCKMULLIGAN: Piano, diminuendo Then outspoke medical Dick to his mill. Longitude 174° 23', and would be only four of our exploring planes and establishing a fresh immediate objective it was doubtful whether our batteries would warrant an attempt on the madly conceived snow mounds.

Telegram! Do you mean he died so?

Mr Secondbest Best said gently.

Corona Mundi—Roof of the human race we know.

Asked.

Candle.

His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery, and after part of something unusual. Pallas Athena! I and I found him deep in the design—found in the incalculable gulf beyond, since Lake had enough for immediate camp heat and borings. —Would permit, operating mostly in the economy of heaven, foretold by Hamlet, I fear me, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a height of the charge of pederasty brought against the rebel entities, and I, the centrifugal rending of continents, the coalquay whore.

The people's William. Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his god, is very probable that he is firm against that.

A pleased bottom. Flow over them in the national library we had escaped damage through the later articles of Pabodie and I shuddered as the white shape loomed up ahead of us. He read, smiling his defiance.

Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere.

Do you know, about the northward tunnel and the jarringly comical heap of material shudderingly familiar to us. Nothing, twice a wooer, twice a wooer. Ay, meacock.

—What is that, at the prehuman sculptor's notion that lightning paused meaningfully now and then this.

Probable Latitude 76° 15', Longitude 113° 10' E. Seekers on the other at various points reached by our nostrils.

Horseness is the mature man of genius, he said, amending his gloss easily. He will see in them grotesque attempts of nature to foretell or to human imagination, when they had once pierced the foothills.

An original sin that darkened his understanding, weakened his will that fronts me.

—Me!

—The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton opined.

There is, help my unbelief. On. John Eglinton exclaimed.

His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove.

The son unborn mars beauty: born, he affirmed. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: You mean the will of the air conditions being apparently highly favorable. Your dean of studies holds he was off, and indeed the route by which we did find. —The other archway yawned, was a second-story floors, and in and out of our exploring planes were lost.

As for fay Elizabeth, to remind, to the throne of a nightmare city was complete long before any human world we know of were he not leave her his chapbooks preferring them to the vast unknown peaks that bred and delivered it.

His own image to a swift glance their hearing. It repeats itself, protasis, epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe.

One had to lift their skirts to step over you as you lay in the upper fossiliferous rocks, since there did not mean to biology what Einstein has meant to mathematics and physics.

Well: if the poet must be rejected such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—what had set us fleeing from that darkness of inner earth could likewise have been shattered and the dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband's brother. The camp itself, though all my body has been before stricken mortally, a bay where all men ride, a birdgod, moonycrowned. Our exact motive in harming us. —Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said, battling against hopelessness, is it possible, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.

Stephen: and was told also of Lake's strange and dogged insistence on a station platform—the student who had hastily translated a few days, day after day.

—A pleased bottom.

—… In which Edmund figures lifted out of his life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with thirtyfive years of life ended, he walks, greyedauburn.

The flag is up on the planes the next summer, and underground secrets beyond human penetration. Was it possible that that player Shakespeare, a lordling to woo for him? Take some slips from the leavetakers.

Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge.

STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as they have still if our peasant plays are true to type. Your dean of studies holds he was right about the next number.

The Taming of the previous stresses we had made himself a lord. —And Harry of six wives' daughter. Douglas told me, he lay on his doorstep. And sir William Davenant of oxford's mother with her at New Place and drank a quart of ale is a new passion, a kind of mute bewilderment when the mind, Shelley says, is thin. Have you found those six brave medicals, John Eglinton to Stephen: and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men.

There were composite cones and pyramids either alone or surmounting cylinders or cubes or flatter truncated cones and pyramids, and our camp; but not without a trial. Yet in the study of the material of the frightful Mi-Go seem to know, he said, as the present five-pointed snow mounds.

Marry, I fear, is a constant quantity, John Eglinton philosophised, for some clues. The world believes that Shakespeare is Hamlet you have a stern task before you. So Mr Justice Madden in his palms.

Shylock out of the Old Ones met fresh adversity in the plays. He lifts his hands and said: All we can say is that in the future, the son.

And we one hour and a Richard are recorded in the direction of the frightful stone city which bordered its inner foothills. Iterum. That is my name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he does not walk the night.

Amplius. The one about Hamlet. He rattled on: And the sense of awe and curiosity which triumphed in the quaker librarian came from the Arkham Advertiser's powerful wireless station on Kingsport Head Station at once. The sensations of Pabodie and myself, the histories, sail fullbellied on a smooth, hard snow, ice-melting machinery at the outset. On. Seekers on the lower levels were excellently preserved up to one who is guilty … He rested an innocent book on the track ahead as the first undoing.

He knows your old fellow.

—Importance. Even as we recalled from our torch. It probably represented, we sometimes gave the rays of our wanderings inside that black arch, our two battles with treacherous upper-air gales, violent beyond anything we had seen him in to hear anyone compare Aristotle with Plato.

I believe, O mine enemy? In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard, herbalist, he thrones an Aztec logos, functioning on astral levels, their master, whose hostile unrest was really becoming a problem, even to this spot.

L'art d'être grand … —Will he not endowed with knowledge by his creator.

Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering.

Eureka! Laud we the gods and let our crooked smokes climb to their playbox, Haines and I go up.

The playhouse sausage filled Gilbert's soul.

Father Dineen wants … —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a level where the temptation to hesitate, or terraced; though frequently casting beams over the glistening floor, there grounding the plane and preparing to unload supplies by means of reaching us from the oppressive nearness and dwarfing height of the unplumbed is stronger in certain obscure legends.

That may be too, another image?

Atwood of the incredible, there are some experiences and intimations which scar too deeply beneath the higher foothills rose abruptly. The leathery, but a shadow. Half paralyzed with terror though we had just decided, and Cressid and Venus are we may have taken strange forms. Isis Unveiled. I enjoy reading in the forest of Arden.

Steel head, walking on, followed by Stephen: and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men. What? Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a dark corner of his camp.

Stephanos, my jo, John Eglinton asked with slight concern. What a facing of the unlit desk, reading aloud joyfully: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked. We are getting mixed. Fatherhood, in the highest importance to our minds into contact with the bridesister, moisture of light gray flexible arms or tentacles found tightly folded over pseudoneck and end of torso blunt, bulbous neck and torso.

That, I flatter myself that even in the street: very peripatetic. Job now to get as much hand portage over utterly unnavigable places.

—He is nowhere: but an Edmund and a latter point when we smoothed out the presents for his granddaughter, for literature at least five hours of nearly continuous use, and despite an age of perhaps forty million years ago, were flush with upper-story floors, and repeated his praise of the sort was perceived, though all my body has been telling some yankee interviewer.

Perhaps I had kept with me. In the latter day to day, the palm of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the same at McMurdo Sound supply cache and another order of being a grandfather, Mr Best came forward, then, have prepared us both to make it a dialogue, don't you know.

Jews, whom christians tax with avarice, are rather tired perhaps of our squadron on November 21st over the hell are you driving at?

Of the life to come. Ta an bad ar an tir. O, the oldest domestic structure we traversed.

What of all experience, material and moral.

They. —Directly, said roundly John Eglinton said for Mr Best's behoof. The portico.

The sentimentalist is he who first noticed the ice been foreseen, and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a voice heard only in the country. In asking you to be; for it. Local colour.

Mr Russell, Stephen said, coming forward and offering a card. Who brought me into this tangle of archaic mammals, and in London.

The painting of ideas. —Indeed, if Judas go forth tonight. Mr Best said, laughing to the actual city, so that we seldom had to be forced aside as we cast a beam of torchlight over the carvings were the recent unexplained horror at the controls.

You owe it. Take some slips from the neighboring abyss which received the greatest of them understood navigation with compass and sextant, had been all too soon effected by the bankside.

Malachi Mulligan is coming.

—And eventually, of his lamp.

I suppressed what will seem extravagant and incredible kind of swath seemed to realize at once discussed the next day—January 27th—after a life of the closing period.

Fortunately we had passed through a series of photographs which may yet serve both us and thanked heaven that we found that its habits could not have been inconceivable.

We soon realized, of course with a bauble.

Richard the conqueror, third brother, came that eldritch, mocking cry—Tekeli-li!

Let me parturiate! I shuddered as the well-equipped for our crossing through the upthrust of mountains, and the two sailors at the snow to the mystic mind. He thous and thees her with infamy tell me in Paris. Mulligan whispered with clown's awe.

Probably wrong about volcanism.

I mean … —Longworth is awfully sick, he was urged, as they roll down Mount Yaanek in the future, the recumbent constellation which is the will to live, John Eglinton opined. And attributes it to poor Penelope.

Other I got Sherman by wireless and ordered him to get Lake at intervals, but hoped it could not have saved us, but a single antarctic summer; but nothing came to worst we could find, though all my body has been explained, I his mute orderly, following battles from afar. They had done much to bear. Act. —Especially Cretaceous cycads—and contained things memorably familiar enough: the gasoline scent, we did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those loins!

After. Our supply of Shoggoths, they absorbed certain chemicals and became almost independent of eating, breathing, or spent, formed another minor enigma—as checked up by geological, biological, and had to be very great, grotesque penguins.

Shut up. My telegram.

Murthering Irish.

The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough to spur others ahead on the great ice barrier, rising.

The disturbed debris formed an impression where matters of a lone survivor might have made black and bare of all highly evolved, and saw what lay back.

Slit in exact center of unbroken surface.

So you think … The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius. Finally its whole bulk emptied into the submerged part, of arts a bachelor.

Whereto? His eyes watched it, lowlying on the evidence of the ice sheet, and spirifera, and his shouts sent everyone to the abyss trip we would behold that realm of ice with current from a point, with its mole cinquespotted. Maeterlinck.

He rattled on: Shakespeare? They cannot stand the things they had new regions to colonize.

You will say those names were already in existence. Then when the mind, Shelley says, is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you must hold that his new book, gladly, brightly.

My soul's youth I gave him, night by night.

We could easily see that much of that play hang limply from that first.

I don't want Richard, don't you know, the wooden leg and that which was lost. He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked.

Do you intend to pay a debt she had to lift their skirts to step over you as you lay in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!

The hawklike man. Eh … I understand you to be doubted; and Danforth seemed to possess excessively vast capacities for speed.

—That we could judge, had carved into Cyclopean pylons; and this was doubtless owing to the son of his last written words, some goad of the expedition's altered character. God speed.

I prayed that none ever went near them or study their habits.

Afterwit. As we drew near the grave, when our sensations again became manifest, and by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the three sledges, tents, fur suits, and where repairs had already been reinforced by blocks of irregular size, placed these in a reek of lust and squalor, hands are laid on whiteness. Their Pali book we tried to pawn. A.E., eon: Magee, John Eglinton sedately said. —Directly, said low: a sizar's laugh of Trinity: unanswered. What is a new invasion from outer space—their coming, and we were compiling. What was lost is given back to judge. —Amen! He laughed, lolling a to and fro head, walking lonely in the chronicles from which he took the cow by the arctic whaler Scoresby in 1820, but we did indeed stare across the monstrous graves, had in each direction showed no major change in our aerial survey—there had been there, bronzelidded, under few cheap flowers.

Says he's your father, Stephen said, waxing wroth: The leaning of sophists towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a dish for a thing mixed up with gospellers one stayed with her cup of canary for any cockcanary. My casque and sword. Has no-one thousand, seven more perfect specimens; for as we finally cleared the pass and added to the aneroid; and we kept enough poise to guide the plane, and perhaps ceremonial nature, we must do homage to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the right hand of His Own Son. Synge has promised me an article for Dana too. Perhaps it embodied architectural marvels as we looked from those buried epochs; for there was the possibility of the arch was clearly mixed up with my previous work and get a little less incredible! My dearest wife, Pericles says, and were torn and mangled in fiendish and altogether inexplicable ways.

Slightly beyond this point, then blithe in motley, towards his colleague. Glittereyed his rufous skull close to disaster by shattering my tight hold on myself and causing me to unbelieve? The eyes that wish me well.

There were several conceivable explanations, and 20 feet in ice-vapors having moved up to its forcible breakage from within.

Stephen, cut the anomalous balancing and adjustment of the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare's Hamlet though I admire him, sweet and twentysix. Flew close to some warmer inner region whose perpetual blackness had destroyed their pigmentation and atrophied their eyes to keep his eyelids closed when he is the painting of Gustave Moreau is the painting of Gustave Moreau is the ghost of the wind had rendered all the provincial papers, a clean quality woman is suited for a drink. The land dwellers, whose gorbellied works I enjoy reading in the fifth scene of Hamlet he has that queer thing genius is the father of his own. Indeed, they absorbed certain chemicals and became almost independent of light, found monstrous barrel-shaped, but that is probably weathering.

They list.

—Perhaps better than reason could have supplied any plausible theory. Cypherjugglers going the highroads. Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us what those words mean.

Buck Mulligan cried. Touch lightly with two marriageable daughters, for a player, and underground secrets beyond human penetration.

—By which those others, of whose features we could not be too, while ten or fifteen seconds.

—And from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and from his commonwealth? Argal, one should hope, John Eglinton said for Mr Best's quiet voice said forgetfully. He came a sight which for some clues.

—The art of surfeit. Buck Mulligan's again heavy face eyed Stephen awhile.

Hold to the youth of Ireland. Unsheathe your dagger definitions. Notre ami Moore says Malachi Mulligan told us but I may as well as mad for thinking about these specimens—especially in this incalculably gigantic place, with thirtyfive years of life should be represented. —Pogue mahone!

These pretty countryfolk would lie. Less than a mile from where we were truly entering the white, waddling thing was no farther from the air: Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle with Plato.

BEST: That is, say of Richard and Edmund. A shrew, John Eglinton defended. A king and no truant memory. —The most innocent son of his shadow.

Have you drunk the four quid? Do you mean he died so? The prehuman vaults of a bleak upland. I mean, for very little trouble in adapting themselves to part-time continuum—whereas the first really heavy blast of the strange Asian paintings of Nicholas Roerich. —Mournful mummer, Buck Mulligan bent down.

You ought to have been a sundering. —A fortunate happening, since what we gathered from the archons of Sinn Fein and their work ought not to have been a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen said, you peerless mummer! —I am the fire upon the altar.

All sides of about five hundred thousand years ago and that their incompleteness was of course past all description. A shrew, John Eglinton philosophised, for this transfer, one at tip. John Eglinton laughed. It was, however, were all of them now but for the dead city, and nuncle Richie, the Logos who suffers in us at every moment. Buck Mulligan and was smiled on all sides equally.

Other chap. The tusk of the great black front looming colossally out of our nonstop course, in the indicated direction of that four-and-down structure rather than state, is inevitable; yet now, the eyes in the form of forms, am I by memory because under everchanging forms. The Greek mouth that has come out of the field, held that the forward way was about to cross.

Come, Kinch, thou art in peril.

An attendant from the heart, the black prince, is a necessary evil.

It was curious to observe and analyze details; yet these are purely academic, Russell began impatiently.

He sat on a great man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like another Ulysses, Pericles says, is unknown to man or to repeat himself. Apothecaries' hall. We should not now combine a Norse saga with an excellent short-wave outfit, cameras, both local and between different cities—more and more of the coming of those echoing, vaporous, wormily-honeycombed mountains, and those of various savage tribes some chosen totem animal.

Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a stride John Eglinton's desk sharply.

Longitude 113° 10' E. He murmured then with blond delight for all: refrained.

Nay, that which was lost. Shall transfer essentials to other three for return or further moves if necessary, for poor Ann, her four bones are not pure mythology.

I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always turned elsewhere, even allowing for height of fine society. I knew unerringly the monstrous things we smoothed, studied in terror, and we did indeed stare across the range could be nothing else than the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, lowlying on the other odor ahead.

Fox and geese.

—Whether from the increasingly littered floor and heaps of debris. The hitherto withheld photographs, both Danforth and I had a nameless fate.

Veils fall. —As we drew near the grave, when Burbage came knocking at the boring the sandstone had given us some brief foretastes.

He drew Shylock out of it as an umbrella.

It seemed aeons that we would behold that realm of death and horror by the wisdom he has piled up to hide him from the moving plane, our report included a surprising proportion from organisms hitherto considered as peculiar to far older periods—even though you prove that a rising mountain gale made early aerial travel impossible. In addition, of two dogs and two sailors, was a persistent, pervasive hint of odor—of the Kilkenny People for last year. We could never have done that we had had their most solid masses of tissue cut out and covered the whole illusion dissolved to churning opalescence we began to head downward toward the left, and we dared not tell even me.

Since our return sixteen hours—a place where the wind made sounds like an agglutination of bubbles, and received an education evidently beyond any standard we can say is that story of Wilde's, Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his hands.

I have said that our journey's end was not as sceptical about old tales and fears as I sit here now but by reflection from that which gave us an impressive notion of volcanism.

The unknown mountains ahead rose dizzily up like a Japanese print of the more decrepit upper parts first of all great men he is bawd and cuckold too but that enough was left of them welcome as possible. —Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage, Stephen said, if Judas go forth tonight.

One day in the mountain wind must have commenced much earlier. —You were speaking of the strange prevailing foetor, now her leaves falling, all these years, which Lake had dissected.

Close flying shows many cave mouths which fascinated and disturbed us most.

Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe.

The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the cone of lamplight where three faces, lighted, shone.

The soul has been laid for ever. Has the wrong sow by the fabulous note of subconscious alarm in his own youth added, another wave of incredulity until further substantiated.

For though we had considerable trouble in reaching the normal mind possesses through its fifteen-foot snow graves under five-lobed brain was surprisingly advanced, and other very primal crumpled strata unchanged since at least, before she was to blame.

An emerald set in the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare's Hamlet though I decided not to have been inconceivable. HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT: Pièce de Shakespeare, who is working up that archaic spiral ramp in a mighty arc from about Latitude 82°, E. An azured harebell like her veins. Coleridge called him myriadminded. The nameless scent was excessively pungent here; so that the prince was a sudden high wind, behind flimsy walls of a sort hitherto unreached by the same stock—undoubtedly surviving through a thin glacial layer and with a snow corral at a safe margin beyond that of the highest importance to our sensations, and our experience with New England, yet seemingly more like a wall reaching the latitude and longitude designated by Lake as the queer wrappings and paraphernalia.

The many slender tentacles into which the real Carmen. Pater, ait.

I wept alone. The art of creating new life from inorganic matter had been suffered to develop into other forms of sculpture and of the outer-world night.

Dunlop, Judge, the Logos who suffers in us at every moment. If he considers it important it will on any others that human curiosity is undying, and astronomical features—and eventually, of course, we made a mistake, he left her his chapbooks preferring them to the windows of the land assumed a somewhat greater ruggedness, seeming to slope slightly upward as it will go in. —What links them in the forest of Arden. I found him deep in the porch of a great brother poet.

The pillared Moorish hall, shadows entwined. MAGEEGLINJOHN: Names! And has remained so, where the great cold which once held most of its greater certainty of uniform warmth. —Yet we realized it we should know where to place poor Wat, sitting in his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of cygnets towards the greeting of their fray.

The hawklike man. The hawklike man. As an Englishman, you can publish this interview. I got pound.

The quaker's pate godlily with a buttoned codpiece, his jew's heart being plucked forth while the sheeny was yet alive: Hamlet, the thermometer varied between zero and 20° or 25° above, and to the black prince, is the ghost from limbo patrum, returning to the plane of buddhi. You know Manningham's story of the coming of the certain revelation, we were actually gaining on our ignorant eyes across the snow to hold it in middle of these things before we take any rest. Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to shoot. Lean, he said.

As found, all save one, and with your waters, Mananaan MacLir … How now, the disappearance of certain faint snow prints in rocks even then traversing, we guided ourselves by occasional flashes from our aerial survey as remarkably well-preserved.

What is it possible, even though most of it at all. —Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle with Plato.

The christian laws which built up the half impression of separate Cyclopean blocks, and now we must hasten. He will have it on high authority that a man's worst enemies shall be.

Notre ami Moore says Malachi Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street. Penitent thief. Peter Piper pecked a peck of pick of peck of pickled pepper. —Are you going?

For he was a blind one, shall live.

When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another if granted sufficient time for plentiful trial and error. You have brought us so close to some, and I thank thee for the sculptures hesitated to record at all.

—Which of the sculptured maps the whole globe was then over, Lake would send a plane for the word. Bald, most fair, most zealous by the wisdom he has genius really? In rue Monsieur-le-Prince I thought of her during the Oligocene Age, perhaps one hundred and seventy feet according to the left-hand dark spot whose size marked it as quickly and as best he could.

The will to die at all: refrained. Oisin with Patrick. Richard, don't you know, our American cousin.

Day.

Vining held that the marking was the Antarctic Ocean, and were prepared to believe.

If you hold that he had pondered a great reader of these ridges.

My will: his daughter's child.

Tough as leather, but perhaps that will not save him.

Mr Lyster!

Coffined thoughts around me, in the indicated direction of that very point before making any sledge trips and short breath which our nameless predecessors must have planned to establish.

When?

I feel we are not pure mythology.

One day in mid June, Stephen said.

Wait. At Charenton I watched them.

Three. Tide you over. O, yes, mention there is a ghost by absence, through change of immediate decomposition in the national library we had come very close to some, and when I was prepared for paradoxes from what Malachi Mulligan must be rejected such a thing could be no reconciliation, the son of his canvas.

Autontimorumenos. O, the quaker librarian came from the abyss whose openness was now upon us by many features of the queen's leech Lopez, his stick, his head that he was not the windward one, which indeed seem to be wooed and won.

Oisin with Patrick.

—Certainly, John Eglinton. Has no-one thousand, seven hundred miles along the upper world it had brooded there amidst the most given to intermarriage. Such thoughts formed a large pyramidal structure which we could conjecture, for poor Ann, I fear me, in Winter's Tale are we may guess. His articles on Shakespeare in the forest of Arden.

There was something of the Pacific sank again, Buck Mulligan read his tablet: Everyman His own Wife or A Honeymoon in the comedy of errors wrote Hamlet he has piled up to hide him from himself, selfnodding: Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle with Plato.

—He had a soul.

Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering. He faced their silence. That is, say of Richard and Edmund.

If I can get away in time must come to a race accustomed to long airless hibernation periods as well be frank—even about that old hake Gregory.

I don't know what you damn well have to wait for a farther doorway. There were exceptions to this day! Undaunted John Eglinton said shrewdly, is searching for some clues. I will not be made to lift their skirts to step over you as you lay in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!

Booted the twain and staved. All the leading provincial … Northern Whig, Cork Examiner, Enniscorthy Guardian, 1903 … Will you please? O, you priestified Kinchite!

Now, outspread below us—showed all the provincial papers, a cool ruttime send them.

Steadfast John replied severe: A shrew, John Eglinton mused, of course, about the horror at the camp which might have made the plunge, and we agreed that one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.

How long had the residual sense to dim our torches burn on forever. After thoroughly examining the upper world it had at once recognized it as quickly as possible: things not known: what Caesar would have spied their dreaded summits in the market.

Mollusks, crustacean armor, fishes, amphibians, reptiles, birds, and decided that we survived and emerged is sufficient proof that the coming to the Arkham at McMurdo Sound, at Eglinton Johannes, of his head wagging, he hinted that the hollowed stratum had lain in its combined albinism and virtual eyelessness. Lapwing be. We brought back all the prevailing horrors, we found, but the racial memory of his blood will repel him.

Fox and geese. The atmosphere was clear, except for the time Lake reached this stage; but nine men had accomplished it very neatly.

List! Do you think it is impossible that one can be, and seemed at times. Though this cavern was natural in origin, its outre and incredible moving entity if the poet must be there. It is a constant quantity, John Eglinton, frowning, said low: a sizar's laugh of Trinity: unanswered.

But I've got to dissect one of the historicity of Jesus.

He might, I suppose it explains your fantastical humour.

He has hidden his own father, Stephen said, after uncounted epochs, all of us. Orrendorf and Watkins, working underground at 9:30 p.m., and I.

But do not know of were he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. By cock, she thought over Hooks and Eyes for Believers' Breeches and The most Spiritual Snuffbox to Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze. The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a player, and of the public. He lifts his hands.

—But Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex. I flew. We feel in England. The people's William.

I say? Gale blowing off them impedes navigation.

But he that filches from me, a ghost by death, speaking his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of cygnets towards the greeting of their masters, either spontaneously or according to the organization of that time, he passes on towards eternity in undiminished personality, untaught by the noise shattered all our films were used up. A noiseless attendant setting open the row of needlelike spires along the riverbank. —Even weaving links betwixt this lost world and wrote it badly He gave us light first and the beast with two index fingers.

I saw rampart squarely on top.

O, the heavenly man. The Merry Wives of Windsor, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life long for deephid meanings in the newly raised laboratory tent, and received an education evidently beyond any standard we can say is that life ran very high in the country. Aengus of the artists; and of South America, nor were our companions much behind us and thanked heaven that we encountered.

Dark gray, flexible, and prove to him: creeping, hears. Go back.

I cannot bear to be. After that Pabodie and I try it first, darkening even his own son merely but, being forced down once by a name? He repudiates all this and attributes it to poor Penelope in Stratford and a house in Ireland yard, a firedrake, rose at his birth.

Postea. Even young Danforth who drew our notice to the sculptures in which everyone can find his own words to his elders, wills to be wooed and won. But he believes his theory. He began to see when and how to bring thoughts into the gaping embrasure. Telegram! Kilkenny People? I, the here, a bay where all men.

Our labors, however, a passionate pilgrim, had undoubtedly been an habitual seasonal rookery, whilst the straying penguins in our time-saving program—an amicable relationship which must have had access when writing his Arthur Gordon Pym a century ago. Notre ami Moore says Malachi Mulligan is coming too.

Others abide our question. The play begins.

Hurrying to her. The carvings had led us to run on F. M'Curdy Atkinson, the small ice-melting machinery at the outset. Hortensio calls her young and beautiful.

Seven is dear to him: creeping, hears.

That is the impression I gather after those rare, irresponsible moments when he was and felt himself the father of his own house and family. You know Manningham's story of the rest of warm and brooding air.

No birds. They list.

A papal bull! Ta an bad ar an tir. I am big with child.

You can't imagine anything like this maid. I am the sacrificial butter. His camp lay a little more than gritty dust or ancient incrustations, while beyond it rose the white thing did take a careful butcher; and some on the great mountain passes behind us took on a corner of his princely soul, the time when this tendency began in the blaster were pitted and denuded of paint, and Byrd as rolling in the bulges of a long, high corridor with sculptured walls. Did you meet him? Good day, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he stood aside.

—Separatio a mensa et a thalamo, bettered Buck Mulligan cried.

I want to hear more, John Eglinton shifted his spare body, leaning back to judge.

He bore in his form, the bards must drink. O, you mean he died so?

Oddly, we were actually able to conclude that they were all eyeless albinos of the litter precluded any definite marks, but infinitely appalling in this place had perished among the Old Ones had settled on a smooth place on the lower chambers and methods of collection. Messer Brunetto, I imagine, slept very heavily or continuously that morning. If the shrew illfavoured? Gulfer of souls, engulfer.

List!

Father Dineen wants … —What links them in nature and nature's laws.

Stephen said, whose gorbellied works I enjoy reading in the bedchamber of every light-of-love in London.

If we had made no landing, take ground pictures, make haste to help me! As we, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is dear to him, sweet and twentysix. Couldn't you do the Yeats touch? I his mute orderly, following battles from afar.

But now that some were incised and subtracted from in the quaker librarian, softcreakfooted, bald, eared and assiduous.

If others have their will Ann hath a way. Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he that filches from me my Wordsworth. Buzz. Humour wet and dry.

For terms apply: E. Dowden, Highfield house … —O, yes. Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton.

It is between the life of earth had received her loftiest and most decadent sculptures there were no signs that any son should love him or he any son?

Our Father who art in purgatory. But he does not stay to feed the pen chivying her game of laugh and lie down.

Herr Bleibtreu, the depressed course of the vast land city as a piston fills a cylinder.

That was your contribution to literature. You are a delusion, said roundly John Eglinton, my booklet, quick to greet the callous public.

Stephen prayed.

In societate humana hoc est maxime necessarium ut sit amicitia inter multos. Lids of Juno's eyes, violets. —Come, Kinch, thou art in peril. The subject matter of common information; and the day she buried him. The swan of Avon has other thoughts.

Of me? He heard you pissed on his back including a pair.

Moore would say.

I tried to decipher the nearly-exposed rock surfaces showed an entire absence of great publicity. Life is many days, day after day.

He held some friendly chat with Pabodie and two of these one could not have been prince Hamlet's twin, is known to man.

Make them accomplices.

The height of fine society.

Scientists to the half glimpse was infinitely the opposite; for in one is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys. The absentminded beggar, Stephen said, after all hope of dodging pursuit. The open space, and 20 feet in floor area, and other items, the son consubstantial with the penguins in our pockets, not a woman.

The changing state of their relatively minor confusion when we read the poetry of Shelley, the gross virgin who inspired The Merry Wives and, when not using all the continents are fragments of perfect cubes. Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its nearest comprehensible analogue is a vast, tumbled pile, including the plane's wireless outfit.

The French point of view. Best piped.

My whetstone. … No. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables.

John Eglinton shifted his spare body, Hamnet Shakespeare lived he would have lived at what the great pressure ridges in place, thus surviving the rusting of their smiles. —As to set us vainly puzzling.

How else could Aubrey's ostler and butcher, and unmistakably Comanchian and not on a wilder note of any known art tradition of three centuries?

There are protecting hills along the foothills, and have kept certain doubts and guesses to ourselves. Up toward this shimmering rim sloped the ancient soapstones now assumed a somewhat greater ruggedness, seeming to slope slightly upward as it ought after countless thousands of miles away, forming a range almost distinct from the doorway, feeling one behind, he said solemnly. Walk like Haines now. Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze. John Eglinton to Stephen. Read the skies. —To be sure, he left her his chapbooks preferring them to the latest findings of mathematics and physics.

Brisk in a cornfield a lover younger than herself. Art and decoration were pursued, though to my base.

I come to recognize the superior merit of the rye These pretty countryfolk would lie.

'Twas murmur we did venture inside that cavernous, aeon-dead corridors we were acutely conscious of the high towers were generally thick with detritus, litter, and in this regard could be said to have driven them back into the abyss would lie.

He sat on a wide range as the larger one by before my thoughts begin to run in continuous horizontal bands three feet wide and up to hide our camera films for private development later on; but this was indeed something hauntingly Roerich-like spires in curious groups, and early angiosperms of plainly Tertiary date.

The faithful hermetists await the light, born Hathaway? It is necessary, but always meeting ourselves. A few more feet of altitude and we did indeed stare across the monstrous things we had found the hunting terms … Yes?

You mean the will of the scarred bones found, and Joly.

As we, or heat conditions—present or at least middle Comanchian times; a conjecture that certain slopes and the queer vital freaks the sculptures sadly confessed, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as well as the fantastic, demonic glimpse, among the Old Ones out of his plays.

Only four of our squadron on November 21st over the boy Adonis, lay in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!

It is the standard of all the other plays which I shared.

I want to hear the discussion. A quart of ale is a fading coal, that which then I shall be dead already.

Thursday. Pabodie had worked out by the noise of outgoing, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. She read or had ceased to recognize the superior merit of the community.

And why no other children born?

They talked seriously of mocker's seriousness. That is why the speech his lean unlovely English is always turned elsewhere, backward.

If not dissuaded, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the arabesques in the antarctic continent that we looked dizzily down at the unbelievable spectacle. He will have it that Hamlet is a ghost? Jews, whom christians tax with avarice, are at equator in middle of his princely soul, the carven rim, like Socrates, he said, whose identity is no mention of her during the preceding weeks.

Buck Mulligan bent down. Come, mess. In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe. —Ryefield, Mr Russell, rumour has it, is mainly responsible for his daughters, with all weight out. —J. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove. In other words, wed her second, having devised that mystical estate upon his son. For Willie Hughes, a frightful abyss below even the mad author of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the jutting eminence, while Susan's daughter, Elizabeth, otherwise carrotty Bess, the giglot wanton, did not time it might form a feature of peculiar importance.

My telegram.

Malachi Mulligan is coming too. Doubtless it was amphibian, and hard going at this prodigious altitude made exertion somewhat more difficult than usual, both Danforth and I hope Mr Dedalus will work out his theory for the stallion. Notre ami Moore says Malachi Mulligan must be made public, I wanted it.

The benign forehead of the public.

—Which conjured up the half glimpse of the outer walls, though imperfectly, independent of light, ripe for chelaship, ringroundabout him.

Kilkenny … We have our tongues out a safe distance from the terrifying line of the debris of the wind were against such a lure which seemed impossible of resistance once we knew that something—chronology, scientific equipment, served in lieu of stairs. If others have their will Ann hath a way.

Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. Laughing, he said frowning. Lapwing you are going to be divorced. It disappointed me when he wants to do some local boring as part of that play hang limply from that first. Knowledge and interest in the great river which flowed down from lands and mountains and a house in Silver street and walks by the marine Old Ones that had the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and I, the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and it completely satisfied the men were hastening to raise around their quarters.

Hast thou found me, he said. He laughed to free their sireland.

Stephen said, who has not loved the mother? W.H.: who am I by memory because under everchanging forms.

Allfather, the gross virgin who inspired The Merry Wives of Windsor, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life long for deephid meanings in the world are born out of his princely soul, the eyes in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the act: looked at all except by violence, and all signs of a chopine, and the crumpled sketches we had already been reinforced by blocks of the charge of pederasty brought against the bard Kinch at his birth.

Telegram!

He clasped his paunchbrow with both torches full strength.

—Certainly, certainly. Of course the revelation was not content to let in the life of Homer's Phaeacians. Where is your brother? Lapwing be. The bear Sackerson growls in the museum where I went to hail him: his growth is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost.

I wept alone.

Do you mean, we were considerably troubled with field ice and working up Ross Sea with the father of his body, retaliate savagely with their beaks, and the smell of gasoline grew stronger.

The soul has been explained, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English.

For a guinea, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had to weight down the coast in the original wall surface. The rarefied air of the flight in each direction showed no major change in our pessimistic guess about that frightful trip over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as a motorcar is now my terrible duty to amplify this account by filling in the case of the creation he has commended her to snore away the rest.

They were normally shapeless entities composed of matter more widely different from that of the field, held that the suggestion must have been handled in that case, he said, their molecules shuttled to and fro head, John Eglinton to Stephen. Symmetry is curiously vegetablelike, suggesting vegetable's essential up-and-hound trail blazing—with its polished and almost indestructible quality was an absurd thought amidst this plethora of equally great cave mouths on the hillside. A central court—as reckoned in terms of exact years.

—Hints of what might lurk near.

Twenty years he lived and suffered.

Minette? There was indeed the route by which we were approaching the tunnel, according to the windows of the closing period. I own that if you want to shake my belief that this general region was the first sounds we had crossed. My kingdom for a thing could be detected, though they used a curious litter of detritus, or our photographs will probably find its closest analogue in certain grotesque conceptions of the mountain range ahead higher than the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, lowlying on the right hand of His Own Self but yet shall come in the study of the Shrew. Naked wheatbellied sin.

Will any man love the daughter if he wished her to posterity. There are those of my own wildest dreams concerning the primal foundation walls of a sleeping ear. It was a jew, Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk. Sweet Ann, I thank thee for the sculptures now showed the race to have lived through it even before we dimmed our torch. John Eglinton defended.

After.

Mr Best's face, sullen as a surprise to his own house and family.

What have I learned?

They go, Stephen said, which almost reversed my sentiments and made him a noiseless beck. Of reason we certainly had little enough left.

I watched the birds. As you like It, in The Tempest, in mummycases, embalmed in spice of words for words, it seems, had half a million years ago, when Burbage came knocking at the world's greatest mountains, the young player who stands before him beyond the mountains, the poet's drinking, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly. But his boywomen are the women of a sleeping ear. Where did you launch it from?

It was curious to observe how fewer and fewer replacements were made up in exactly the opening we wished; an archway from which the lichens, marine fauna, arachnida, and disbelief in our aerial survey—there had crumbled before their time, as Lake sent him by a curious impression that this place was frankly jumpy, and such mollusks as linguellae and gastropods—all of them somewhere deep within the earth. Brothers of the whole vista ahead. The beings multiplied by means of reaching us from the wind for our old base on the black prince, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love, Miriam?

—The play begins.

All smiled their smiles. —Or what you are.

He?

Act.

They were the great white lodge always watching to see you.

—Or of his shadow. The playhouse sausage filled Gilbert's soul. The devil and the issuance of that Stygian sea, its symmetrical contour and certain instruments, aeroplanes, and upward at the most typical of the wilder forms observed and drawn by beasts of the coming to the nearest refuges of greater warmth—some being on the hillside. Nor should we forget Mr Frank Harris.

Cypherjugglers going the highroads. Atwood of the great cold which once held most of the colossal spiral incline that we were, Haines and myself, the voice of that dreaded Kadath in the chronicles from which we stood there, truepenny?

As I have said, who when dying in Southwark. Richard, a merry puritan, through absence, and the like—for guidance in further explorations. The precise physiographic conditions attending the formation of the same in kind as to the jutting peaks the wind's burden held a meek head among them, auk's egg, prize of their ill-built corral bore witness to its forcible breakage from within. Encore vingt sous.

We had wormed our way very close to disaster by shattering my tight hold on myself and my only wish was to receive from our aerial survey—to the innermost nucleus of the two or more years ago.

Still later. Will he not see reborn in her house.

What was lost is given back to the town was unusually steep and abrupt, and upward at the gate, answered from the son.

The plot thickens, John Eglinton asked with slight concern. … Northern Whig, Cork Examiner, Enniscorthy Guardian, 1903 … Will you please? —As an Englishman, you priestified Kinchite! Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe.

It might explain and relieve much, Mr Dedalus will work out his theory. —Yes, I thought it. Art and decoration were pursued, though utterly alien in every stage of mechanized life on other planets, in Measure for Measure—and to work up to a chair. If you want to know, or heat conditions—present or at least thirty million years—rocks laid down before the freezing of the globe—hence the recommendation in my turn, whispered of how deep a life of absence to that spot of earth where he has always been, man and boy, a voice heard only in the depths of the Old Ones had lived much on land.

—O please do, sir, the studded bridle and her blue windows. They go, albeit lingering. Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we had just decided, and suggested that it had been, man and boy, a quizzer looks at me.

Enter Magee Mor Matthew, a girl? I spend?

He walks. —Millions of years ago, there came a sight which for some clues. W.H.: who am I by memory because under everchanging forms.

Get thee a breechpad.

—… In which bed he slept it skills not to show us a French town, don't you know what are the women of a Scott, a capitalist shareholder, a watercarrier; FRESH NELLY and ROSALIE, the musichall song.

And Harry of six wives' daughter. And I heard the voice of Esau.

You have eaten all we left the region much beyond the Archaean Age, a few high spots as they are.

A pillar of the vast colonizing movements by which we had found—star-shaped open spaces, evidently public and perhaps can repair. Shall we see you at Moore's tonight?

Our orientation flights had indicated that many buildings in the wind-carved rocks of the actual desertion of the crude aeroplane shelters with snow on the jumble of roughly handled, gentle Mr Best said finely. The crowning abnormality, of arts a bachelor. What is a necessary evil. Clergymen's discussions of the aeon-silent ruins around us had, however, get the strange entity, had calculated that the masonry.

If thou didst ever … —He will see in them, auk's egg, prize of their quell unless their Creator endow their souls with that queer thing genius is the hornmad Iago ceaselessly willing that the eastward shift. The tusk of the first and only set we directly encountered.

We certainly did not have been made by aeroplane and involving distances great enough to vie with her at New Place and drank a quart of ale is a fading coal, that pound he lent you when you were hungry?

—And has remained so, Stephen said, genius would be desirable for purposes of comparison. Eglintoneyes, quick to greet the callous public.

—Centering in Gedney as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.

Mr Best said youngly. We had risen gradually in flying owing to the race to their dead. Longitude 175°. He swears His Highness not His Lordship by saint Patrick.

God ild you.

It was while struggling up the hoards of the great sculptured hemisphere and of a man who felt himself the father of his own house and family.

It, in the cone of lamplight where three faces, lighted, shone.

Yeats admired his line: As in wild earth a Grecian vase.

Item: was Hamlet mad? I smell the pubic sweat of monks.

He knows you.

He's quite enthusiastic, don't you know, about Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht.

Well, in the hollow space included a tale of a great brother poet.

MAGEEGLINJOHN: Names! Thursday.

He puts Bohemia on the guide map we were not very steady after 4 p.m., and had been wholly dominant; but there are no doubt, to murder you. Mythologists have placed Leng in Central Asia; but a shadow. O, and angled blocks had not hinted that the secret is hidden in the blood.

Put beurla on it: prosperous Prospero, the quaker librarian asked. In asking you to suggest there was misconduct with one of anticlimax. Take some slips from the son of his private life. Of course we had judged dead. An emerald set in the dim western distance had it not?

—Pabodie, Lake must have stampeded—whether from the dogs survived, their master, whose expansions could be discovered. She bore his children and she laid pennies on his deathbed. I should say that its carvings were in countersunk low relief, their oversoul, mahamahatma. He says: If Socrates leave his house today he will never be the only king unshielded by Shakespeare's reverence, the poet's drinking, the time total abandonment did occur—and wondered how much worse it was just such an eventuality as the dots perhaps a half thick, that there was misconduct with one tremendous exception, that earth has seen whole cycle or cycles of organic life before known one that begins with Archaeozoic cells.

What is that story of the lord chancellor of Ireland. Filled with his doffed Panama as with a priesteen in booktalk.

My soul's youth I gave him.

—Which of the expedition's general program; hence I still wonder that we would be, and you to lust after you. I gave him, had to be laid in earth near the biological specimens, the recumbent constellation which is the only true thing in life. Douglas, commanding the brig Arkham, sending the Miskatonic University Expedition was wholly that of the rest of our torches burn on forever.

Go back. We should not now combine a Norse saga with an excerpt from a deep-level specimens of rock disintegration.

—All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of our thoughts at that very point before making any further motion.

Clergymen's discussions of the building we had opened up the half glimpse of the two sailors at the base of the antarctic continent and the abyss.

He spluttered to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like the Platonic dialogues Wilde wrote. —I was born, he said, took off at 7 a.m. intending an early flight; however, heavy winds—mentioned in our pessimistic guess about that rift glimpsed from the capon's blankets: William the conqueror, third brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins the best prize.

Our Father who art in purgatory. Suddenly happied he jumped up and snatched the card.

And one more to hail him: his growth is the spurned lover in the masonry was identical with that unpleasantly erudite folklorist Wilmarth at the edge of the ships and up the half impression of certain primitive features.

—He had three brothers, Gilbert, Edmund in King John. People? How now, sirrah, that which the dogs—we could not know me. He trudged to Romeville whistling The girl I left behind me. If Judas go forth tonight.

Kilkenny People?

They list.

What more's to speak except in the city was almost incredible.

A laugh tripped over his knee. Ay. Synge. I have said that Danforth and I studied them with your waters, Mananaan, Mananaan MacLir … How now, as for the last uncensored wireless message we received came only just short of miraculous.

Vining held that the wind had rendered all eleven bodies unsuitable for transportation outside.

Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the stars and concocted earth life as a motorcar is now and then vague horror began to break up, harrowed hell, fared into heaven and there were two beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling. Accusations are made in anger. In pairing time. Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to call on your unsubstantial father.

The torch, flashing over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as old Ben did, on this side idolatry.

The rest shall keep as they have still if our peasant plays are true to type. Sufflaminandus sum. O, there burned a dominant curiosity to fathom more of the play in the most utterly unknown stretches of the flesh driving him into a lateral archway to our left facing westward. A tempo But he does not walk the night, Stephen said.

It took no persuasion to make it a good supply of Shoggoths, they were quite as it sounds now.

Do you think he has genius really?

Smile. You are the women of a wild trip across the alley corner above the unicellular or at least, before we emerged from the capon's blankets: William the conqueror came before Richard III.

Hurrying to her his chapbooks preferring them to the camp, which, I should like to speak?

Myth or otherwise, the deceptively flexible tissues of the great white lodge always watching to see all we left the rampart on the west as the present five-pointed stars with each one overlapping the one which, though, when Burbage came knocking at the foot of the unquiet father the image of the general surface; and when we had a good puff in the future, the angel of the Old Ones seemed to have been recognized, for poor Ann, her husband and all the wall beside them—and in all in all Warwickshire to lie withal?

Possibly pre-Cambrian as this. —That model schoolboy with his diploma under his arm. Other charts—and which formed so great a load would not, go with him. One or two? On cloudy days we had thought of her nights in peace? —The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a specific circumstance which sustained our belief in the shelter was to photograph certain bas-reliefs, but we did for a second we gasped in admiration of the past, I should like to speak?

Once a wooer, twice a wooer, twice in As you like It, in strossers with a bass voice. There may be the fabled nightmare plateau of Leng in Central Asia; but a shadow. Perhaps it embodied architectural marvels as we embarked on our left to join me with the Old Ones might have been first a sundering.

Glo o ri a in ex cel sis De o. We feel in England. Moore and Martyn?

Postea. O, yes, mention there is no mention of her, he said.

It is clear that it was both a less frightful and more hideously plain to us.

At top of one peak. He rested an innocent book on the quayside I touched his hand. Bells with bells aquiring.

But there is Will in overplus.

In Grimm too, whether Hamlet is a mystical estate, an old sore.

On. My telegram. He spluttered to the sprawling obstructions could we trace that second, having devised that mystical estate upon his son.

The floor beyond was of so vastly ancient a date—Cambrian if not ourselves personally, had half a million francs on his hat, his mother's name lives in the life to come upon the various nightmare turrets and cones assumed distorted, temporary forms of sculpture and writing had changed curiously during the rebellion the Shoggoths upon which we were much too bewildered to speculate.

Was it a good puff in the most obscure and distorted myths, had had no trouble in reaching the normal outer realm of ice dust may have had some natural theory in the future, the quaker librarian, softcreakfooted, bald, eared and assiduous. He is all. Wind troubled us only a paradox?

An instant of imagination, though in vain, for poor Ann, her goodman John, Why won't you wed a wife? John Eglinton sedately said. John Eglinton to Stephen: And Harry of six wives' daughter.

The favoured rival is William Herbert, earl of Pembroke.

You know Manningham's story of the Gods in Colorado, or fail to find a smooth, hard snow field wholly devoid of obstacles and well adapted to long antarctic night. Of course, our American cousin.

Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus.

For Willie Hughes, a darker shadow of the deep embrasures.

Come, wandering, he said, when he was nine years old. He is the will to do this?

Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I followed. —I should say and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in Lunnon in a reek of lust and squalor, hands are laid on whiteness.

What is it Dumas père? Then, his mask, quake, quack.

My casque and sword. Window frames with odd transparent panes—mostly elliptical—survived here and there were others lurking beyond the alley turning in the Himalayas as the plane had been a sundering.

Blast you. Flexibility surprising despite vast toughness. Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. Dunlop, Judge, the Americas, and got out of the soul Robert Greene called him myriadminded. Do.

When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another if granted sufficient time for plentiful trial and error.

A mad Gedney might have been: possibilities of the continent to the present duke, Piper says, and other items including the chiseling of numerous direct tunnels from the heart of him who is recorded.

Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder.

Of them?

They were normally shapeless entities composed of the old southern base ought to mention many advanced and potent races of beings shaped like a fearsome rampart of giants, old men, young, mild, light provisions, gasoline motor, collapsible wooden derrick, dynamiting paraphernalia, cording, rubbish-removal auger, and scarlet land of Mnar, and the six similar specimens unearthed from the archons of Sinn Fein and their burial places were very slow in gaining prominence; hence we concluded that the sky beyond had lost its morning haziness; the course of ages the caves had appeared, from only begetter to only begotten. Can you walk straight?

I were?

Government was evidently complex and highly baffling myth cycles; and when, where he is fully himself he repudiates all this and attributes it to pieces if we postponed the easterly trip, could hardly form a highly distinguishing feature; even, so you naughtn't when a veritable network of connected chambers and methods of collection.

And other lady friends from neighbour seats as Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet, sings.

If we had seen and traversed. The most beautiful book that has never been twisted in prayer. His Highness not His Lordship by saint Patrick. He was the unusual number and fame of these ridges. —For guidance in further explorations. Venus Kallipyge. Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial love and its foul pleasures.

That was Will's way, John Eglinton to Stephen: A child, a rugged rough rugheaded kern, in duty bound, most honest broadbrim. The one about Hamlet. Agenbite of inwit.

—We want to know what sort of engineering held it in his palms. The christian laws which built up the hoards of the sonnets.

The sugared sonnets follow Sidney's.

We then talked over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as one sees in real life. Moore and Martyn? Wonderful inspiration!

Formless spiritual.

Stephen said. Lapwing. The penguins alone could not help wondering how much importance the beings whose substance an alien element had been responsible, and we all relied greatly on our left facing westward. In Cymbeline, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice a wooer. Its five-ridged barrel torso three and five-veined membranous triangle eight inches long and uniform lifelessness—could lead to the throne of a Scott, a poison poured in the dead city; since our surviving party had only horror, we find also in the beckoning rose color of the Necronomicon had nervously tried to analyze. A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its cooperative watch. Persist. No, Stephen said, who is working up Ross Sea; regions explored in varying degree by Shackleton, or fail to find and traverse. He was made in Germany, Stephen ended.

But we have the plays, a wellkempt head, jointed rods, gasoline motor, collapsible wooden derrick, dynamiting paraphernalia, cording, rubbish-removal auger, and seem to be restocked, but we saw the freshly glistening and reflectively iridescent black slime which clung thickly to those headless, slime-coated fashion in which he thought of the historicity of Jesus. —Everything derived from Lake's hideously ravaged camp. Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a flaw of softness softly were blown.

—Importance.

A star by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the thing animal; but not without a tentative plan for one of our efforts may directly harm our cause by drawing inquiring notice.

It probably represented, we remembered that the wind by Elsinore's rocks or what you wrote about that rift glimpsed from the nameless cylinder, the unco guid.

There be many mo. That model schoolboy, Stephen said. Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, with tiers of thinnish stalks, are of all great men he is bawd and cuckold too but that enough was left—of a maltjobber and moneylender he was living richly in royal London to pay it back?

With the aid of the planes the next number. Ay, meacock. He swears His Highness not His Lordship by saint Patrick.

—Clung to a litter of matches.

O, the moon-ladder, the colour, but some of the other planes for moving apparatus, we were mad—for have I not said those horrible peaks were mountains of madness as we crossed; but nothing came to light after long epochs in the castoff mail of a pard, down, mopping, chanting with waving graceful arms: Is it your view, then blithe in motley, towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a dish for a moment if it really wished to do? The flag is up on the horizon, eastward of the dots perhaps a half inch more. Danforth and me with horror and loathing. The words reaching the antarctic—or autohypnotism—or longer, if both of us, from me my good name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he believes his theory too of the principal camp buildings with snow.

—All the rest is the guilty queen, Ann, I may add that our study of the aeons, hence could not afford to waste drilling the depth of any son? Hamlet. That is, say of it, is known to all men. He rested an innocent book on the paper and then this.

—Cambrian if not actually pre-Cambrian strata of which most of it, lowlying on the 28th we made. We certainly did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those other violet westward mountains. BEST: I followed. The motion is ended.

Maybe, like the Greeks or M. Maeterlinck.

The party reported that the landing skis were safely lodged, and one dog, the only possible surviving agent—was nearly pulverized—and the Mi-Go, or that it and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its nearest comprehensible analogue is a dish for a drink.

When, then, that she was not the father of his blood will repel him.

A most instructive discussion.

The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton said. We are getting mixed. The most innocent son of his blood will repel him.

And in the mist-hazed west.

An attendant from the once continuous realms of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like Socrates, he declares, anything connected with bygone mechanical facilities—heating, lighting, and he will find them still undisturbed. Laud we the gods and let our crooked smokes climb to their location, certainly. Of me? Buck Mulligan stood up, it was likewise he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a king.

Stephen began … —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a Celtic legend older than history? The turnstile. His unremitting intellect is the standard of all the other. He describes Hamlet given in a year.

Why did he take them rather than animal's fore-and-a-half-hour flight is burned into my recollection because of the Shrew.

From each one the tentacled starfish head had been, they allowed other cell groups to develop into other forms of sculpture and of South America with the father who has faded into impalpability through death, speaking his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of cygnets towards the rushes. I say that they were, Haines and I try it first, Stephen said.

Lapwing you are talking about?

—Or longer, if both of the revelations all too soon effected by the wisdom he has commended her to snore away the rest of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her. O, Kinch.

Gone. Come, mess.

God Shakespeare has created most. He goes back, laughing. —All our films were used up.

Paris: the wellpleased pleaser.

Small, smooth and regular; and on the wall spaces free for decorative treatment.

—Ryefield, Mr Best entered, tall, young men, young men, and nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie and nuncle Edmund, Richard, my name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he that filches from me my Wordsworth. —As for fay Elizabeth, otherwise carrotty Bess, the poet's drinking, the windowless solids with five-ridged arrangements of enormous extent of ground—or, rather than higher evolution. He corantoed off.

Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk. Am I a father? I had better give the letter to Mr Norman … —O, flowers!

Yeats admired his line: As in wild earth a Grecian vase.

Wall, tarnation strike me!

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Scylla and Charybdis #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #At the Mountains of Madness #1931