Howard Behrens paintings
Henri Fantin-Latour paintings
Horace Vernet paintings
and myself. We hope and trust that it will not occur again. It is probable that in the event of a second offence, the c would find itself unable to treat the matter with the same generosity. Thank you, Lord Poxe.”
And thus the interview closed and Poxe went out, elated, to celebrate his escape in the manner which most immediately suggested itself to him; and Edward, in his fire-blackened room, felt that everything was turning out well.
Without difficulty, an aged and dissolute doctor was unearthed in St. Ebbs, where he lodged in squalor with one of the servants, and earned an irregular livelihood by performing operations in North Oxford; this sorry man was persuaded to write a certificate of death from natural causes. The funeral was brief and ill attended. The Warden toiled for three days in the composition of a Greek epitaph and on the third ev
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Henri Fantin-Latour paintings
Henri Fantin-Latour paintings
Horace Vernet paintings
Irene Sheri paintings
thinly guarded, inadequately munitioned lines, were quite incapable of successfully resisting the menaced German “push,” every paper brought news of further mis- and ill-success, every post news of some friend or relation who had been killed. At school, the houses had mostly been taken over, in the absence of their younger housemasters, by well meaning but incompetent elderly assistant masters; the prefects were young, and knowing that in a few weeks, at the most a few months, they would be “called up” to go to possible death, almost certain mutilation, cared little for school or house affairs. All over the country nerves were strained to the breaking point. This must be borne in mind when reading a story which at any other period would have been utterly impossible.
Every house, of course, claims to be the best, and in all probability has hypnotized itself
Horace Vernet paintings
Irene Sheri paintings
thinly guarded, inadequately munitioned lines, were quite incapable of successfully resisting the menaced German “push,” every paper brought news of further mis- and ill-success, every post news of some friend or relation who had been killed. At school, the houses had mostly been taken over, in the absence of their younger housemasters, by well meaning but incompetent elderly assistant masters; the prefects were young, and knowing that in a few weeks, at the most a few months, they would be “called up” to go to possible death, almost certain mutilation, cared little for school or house affairs. All over the country nerves were strained to the breaking point. This must be borne in mind when reading a story which at any other period would have been utterly impossible.
Every house, of course, claims to be the best, and in all probability has hypnotized itself
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Pierre Auguste Renoir The Boating Party Lunch painting
Pierre Auguste Renoir The Boating Party Lunch paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the Country paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the City painting
Miss Bombaum. He rose to greet her. All the hard epithets with which they had parted were forgotten.
“May I sit here?”
She looked up, first without recognition, then with pleasure. Perhaps there was something in his forlorn appearance, in the diffidence of his appeal, which cleared him in Miss Bombaum’s mind. This was no fascist beast that stood before her, no reactionary cannibal.
“Surely,” she said. “The guy who invited me hasn’t shown up.”
A ghastly fear, cold in that torrid room, struck Scott-King, that he would have to pay for Miss Bombaum’s luncheon. She was eating a lobster, he noted, and drinking hock.
“When you’ve finished,” he said. “Afterwards, with perhaps in the lounge.”
“I’ve a date in twenty minutes,” she said. “Sit down.”
He sat and at once, in answer to her casual enquiry, poured out the details of his predicament. He laid particular stress on his financial problems and, as pointedly as he could, ordered the humblest dish on the menu. “It’s a fallacy not to eat in hot weather,” said Miss Bombaum. “You need to keep your resistance up.”
Miss Bombaum. He rose to greet her. All the hard epithets with which they had parted were forgotten.
“May I sit here?”
She looked up, first without recognition, then with pleasure. Perhaps there was something in his forlorn appearance, in the diffidence of his appeal, which cleared him in Miss Bombaum’s mind. This was no fascist beast that stood before her, no reactionary cannibal.
“Surely,” she said. “The guy who invited me hasn’t shown up.”
A ghastly fear, cold in that torrid room, struck Scott-King, that he would have to pay for Miss Bombaum’s luncheon. She was eating a lobster, he noted, and drinking hock.
“When you’ve finished,” he said. “Afterwards, with perhaps in the lounge.”
“I’ve a date in twenty minutes,” she said. “Sit down.”
He sat and at once, in answer to her casual enquiry, poured out the details of his predicament. He laid particular stress on his financial problems and, as pointedly as he could, ordered the humblest dish on the menu. “It’s a fallacy not to eat in hot weather,” said Miss Bombaum. “You need to keep your resistance up.”
George Frederick Watts Orpheus and Eurydice painting
George Frederick Watts Orpheus and Eurydice paintingCarl Fredrik Aagard The Deer Park paintingSalvador Dali The Great Masturbator painting
moment Desmond O’Malley is sitting down to his first Settle tea. I hope he’s enjoying it. I don’t think somehow he is enjoying this term very much so far.” Charles said nothing. “Do you know, he came to me two days ago and asked to resign from it? He said that if I didn’t let him he would do something that would make me degrade him. He’s an odd boy, Desmond. It was an odd request.”
“I don’t suppose he’d want me to know about it.”
“Of course he wouldn’t. Do you know why I’m telling you? Do you?”
“No, sir.”
“I think you could make all the difference to him, whether his is tolerable or not. I gather all you little beasts in the Upper Dormitory have been giving him hell.”
“If we have, it’s because he asked for it.”
“I dare say, but don’t you think it rather sad that in there are so many different things different people are asking for, and the only people who get what they ask
moment Desmond O’Malley is sitting down to his first Settle tea. I hope he’s enjoying it. I don’t think somehow he is enjoying this term very much so far.” Charles said nothing. “Do you know, he came to me two days ago and asked to resign from it? He said that if I didn’t let him he would do something that would make me degrade him. He’s an odd boy, Desmond. It was an odd request.”
“I don’t suppose he’d want me to know about it.”
“Of course he wouldn’t. Do you know why I’m telling you? Do you?”
“No, sir.”
“I think you could make all the difference to him, whether his is tolerable or not. I gather all you little beasts in the Upper Dormitory have been giving him hell.”
“If we have, it’s because he asked for it.”
“I dare say, but don’t you think it rather sad that in there are so many different things different people are asking for, and the only people who get what they ask
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Unknown Artist Brent Lynch Cigar Bar painting
Unknown Artist Brent Lynch Cigar Bar paintingUnknown Artist Paris Eiffel Tower paintingRene Magritte The Son of Man painting
Was that all?”
“And she thought Roger had behaved badly because he doesn’t like smart restaurants, and she said neither did she, but it had cost you a lot of money so it was nasty to complain. Of course, I wanted to hear all about you and what you said, and she couldn’t remember anything. She just said you seemed very clever.”
“Oh, she said that?”
“She says that about all Roger’s friends. But, anyway, it’s my turn now. I’ve got you to myself for the evening.”
She had. We were sitting at dinner now. Lucy was still talking to Mr. Benwell. On my other side there was some kind of relative of Roger’s. She talked to me for a bit about how Roger had settled down since. “I don’t take those political opinions of his seriously,” she said, “and, anyway, it’s all right to be a communist nowadays. Everyone is.”
“I’m not,” I said.
“Well, I mean all the clever young people.”
So I turned back to Julia. She was waiting for me. “D’you know you once wrote me a letter?”
“Good gracious. Why?”
“Dear Madam, Thank you for your letter. If you will read the passage in question
Was that all?”
“And she thought Roger had behaved badly because he doesn’t like smart restaurants, and she said neither did she, but it had cost you a lot of money so it was nasty to complain. Of course, I wanted to hear all about you and what you said, and she couldn’t remember anything. She just said you seemed very clever.”
“Oh, she said that?”
“She says that about all Roger’s friends. But, anyway, it’s my turn now. I’ve got you to myself for the evening.”
She had. We were sitting at dinner now. Lucy was still talking to Mr. Benwell. On my other side there was some kind of relative of Roger’s. She talked to me for a bit about how Roger had settled down since. “I don’t take those political opinions of his seriously,” she said, “and, anyway, it’s all right to be a communist nowadays. Everyone is.”
“I’m not,” I said.
“Well, I mean all the clever young people.”
So I turned back to Julia. She was waiting for me. “D’you know you once wrote me a letter?”
“Good gracious. Why?”
“Dear Madam, Thank you for your letter. If you will read the passage in question
Monday, September 22, 2008
Pino Early Morning painting
Pino Early Morning paintingPino Desire paintingAndrew Atroshenko The Passion of Music painting
condemned by government inspectors and its inhabitants driven further into the country and the process began all over again. I thought of all this, sadly, as I looked out at the fine masonry of Fez, cut four hundred years back by Portuguese prisoners ... I must go back to England soon to arrange for the destruction of my father’s house. Meanwhile there seemed no reason for an immediate change of plan.
It was the evening when I usually visited the Moulay Abdullah—the walled quartier toleré between the old city and the ghetto. I had gone there first with a sense of adventure; now it had become part of my routine, a regular resort, like the cinema and the Consulate, one of the recreations which gave incident to my week and helped clear my mind of the elaborate villainies of Lady Mountrichard.
I dined at seven and soon afterwards caught my bus at the new gate. Before starting I removed my watch and emptied my pockets of all except the few francs which I proposed
condemned by government inspectors and its inhabitants driven further into the country and the process began all over again. I thought of all this, sadly, as I looked out at the fine masonry of Fez, cut four hundred years back by Portuguese prisoners ... I must go back to England soon to arrange for the destruction of my father’s house. Meanwhile there seemed no reason for an immediate change of plan.
It was the evening when I usually visited the Moulay Abdullah—the walled quartier toleré between the old city and the ghetto. I had gone there first with a sense of adventure; now it had become part of my routine, a regular resort, like the cinema and the Consulate, one of the recreations which gave incident to my week and helped clear my mind of the elaborate villainies of Lady Mountrichard.
I dined at seven and soon afterwards caught my bus at the new gate. Before starting I removed my watch and emptied my pockets of all except the few francs which I proposed
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Marc Chagall The Fiddler painting
Marc Chagall The Fiddler paintingMarc Chagall The Concert paintingMarc Chagall La Mariee painting
It would not be fair to say that in the ensuing two years Mrs. Kent-Cumberland forgot her younger son. She wrote to him every month and sent him bandana handkerchiefs for Christmas. In the first, lonely days he wrote to her frequently, but when, as he grew accustomed to the new, his letters became less frequent she did not seriously miss them. When they did arrive they were lengthy; she put them aside from her correspondence to read at leisure and, more than once, mislaid them, unopened. But whenever her acquaintances asked after Tom, she loyally answered, “Doing splendidly. And enjoying himself very much.”
She had many other things to occupy and, in some cases, distress her. Gervase was now in authority at Tomb, and the careful régime of his minority wholly reversed. There were six expensive hunters in the stable. The lawns were mown, bedrooms thrown open, additional bathrooms installed; there was even talk of constructing a swimming pool. There
It would not be fair to say that in the ensuing two years Mrs. Kent-Cumberland forgot her younger son. She wrote to him every month and sent him bandana handkerchiefs for Christmas. In the first, lonely days he wrote to her frequently, but when, as he grew accustomed to the new, his letters became less frequent she did not seriously miss them. When they did arrive they were lengthy; she put them aside from her correspondence to read at leisure and, more than once, mislaid them, unopened. But whenever her acquaintances asked after Tom, she loyally answered, “Doing splendidly. And enjoying himself very much.”
She had many other things to occupy and, in some cases, distress her. Gervase was now in authority at Tomb, and the careful régime of his minority wholly reversed. There were six expensive hunters in the stable. The lawns were mown, bedrooms thrown open, additional bathrooms installed; there was even talk of constructing a swimming pool. There
Friday, September 19, 2008
Claude Monet Sunflowers painting
Claude Monet Sunflowers paintingJohannes Vermeer Girl with a Pearl Earring paintingJohannes Vermeer girl with the pearl earring painting
above the reeds, moss grown and dilapidated.
“Golly,” said Mr. Van Winkle slowly, “the twenty-fifth century.”
Then he crossed the threshold of the underground station and, kneeling on the slippery fifth step, immersed his head in the water.
Absolute stillness lay all around him except for rhythmic, barely audible nibbling of the pastured sheep. Clouds drifted across the moon and Rip stood awed by the darkness; they passed and Rip stepped out into the light, left the grotto and climbed to a grass mound at the corner of the Haymarket.
To the south, between the trees, he could pick out the silver line of the river. Warily, for the ground was full of pits and crevices, he crossed what had once been Leicester and Trafalgar Squares. Great flats of mud, submerged at high water, stretched to his feet over the Strand, and at the margin of mud and sedge was a cluster of huts, built on poles; inaccessible because their careful householders had drawn up the ladders at sunset. Two campfires, almost extinct, glowed red upon platforms of beaten earth. A ragged guard
above the reeds, moss grown and dilapidated.
“Golly,” said Mr. Van Winkle slowly, “the twenty-fifth century.”
Then he crossed the threshold of the underground station and, kneeling on the slippery fifth step, immersed his head in the water.
Absolute stillness lay all around him except for rhythmic, barely audible nibbling of the pastured sheep. Clouds drifted across the moon and Rip stood awed by the darkness; they passed and Rip stepped out into the light, left the grotto and climbed to a grass mound at the corner of the Haymarket.
To the south, between the trees, he could pick out the silver line of the river. Warily, for the ground was full of pits and crevices, he crossed what had once been Leicester and Trafalgar Squares. Great flats of mud, submerged at high water, stretched to his feet over the Strand, and at the margin of mud and sedge was a cluster of huts, built on poles; inaccessible because their careful householders had drawn up the ladders at sunset. Two campfires, almost extinct, glowed red upon platforms of beaten earth. A ragged guard
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres Perseus and Andromeda painting
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres Perseus and Andromeda paintingGuido Reni Baptism of Christ paintingGuido Reni reni Aurora painting
should be. Two days after the foundation of the British Womanhood Protection Committee, he appeared at the Major’s orderly room asking for a private audience, a cheerful, rotund, self-abasing figure, in a shiny alpaca suit, skull cap and yellow, elastic-sided boots.
“Major Lepperidge,” he said, “you know me; all the gentlemen in Matodi know me. The English are my favourite gentlemen and the natural protectors of the under races all same as the League of Nations. Listen, Major Lepperidge, I ear things. Everyone trusts me. It is a no good thing for these black men to abduct English ladies. I fix it O.K.”
To the Major’s questions, with infinite evasions and circumlocutions, Youkoumian explained that by the agency of various cousins of his wife he had formed contact with an Arab, one of whose wives was the sister of a Sakuya in Joab’s band; that Miss Brooks was at present safe and that Joab was disposed to talk . “Joab make very stiff price,”
should be. Two days after the foundation of the British Womanhood Protection Committee, he appeared at the Major’s orderly room asking for a private audience, a cheerful, rotund, self-abasing figure, in a shiny alpaca suit, skull cap and yellow, elastic-sided boots.
“Major Lepperidge,” he said, “you know me; all the gentlemen in Matodi know me. The English are my favourite gentlemen and the natural protectors of the under races all same as the League of Nations. Listen, Major Lepperidge, I ear things. Everyone trusts me. It is a no good thing for these black men to abduct English ladies. I fix it O.K.”
To the Major’s questions, with infinite evasions and circumlocutions, Youkoumian explained that by the agency of various cousins of his wife he had formed contact with an Arab, one of whose wives was the sister of a Sakuya in Joab’s band; that Miss Brooks was at present safe and that Joab was disposed to talk . “Joab make very stiff price,”
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Vincent van Gogh Mulberry Tree painting
Vincent van Gogh Mulberry Tree paintingVincent van Gogh Bedroom Arles paintingVincent van Gogh Almond Branches in Bloom painting
Sucking a bar of nougat Simon emerged into the now deserted studio. On three sides of him, to the height of twelve feet, rose in appalling completeness the marble walls of the scene-restaurant; at his elbow a bottle of imitation champagne still stood in its pail of melted ice; above and beyond extended the vast gloom of rafters and ceiling.
“Fact,” said Simon to himself, “the world of action ... the pulse ... Money, hunger ... Reality.”
Next morning he was called with the words, “Two young ladies waiting to see you.”
“Two?”
Simon put on his dressing gown and, orange juice in hand, entered his sitting room. Miss Grits nodded pleasantly.
“We arranged to start at ten,” she said. “But it doesn’t really matter. I shall not require you very much in the early stages. This is Miss Dawkins. She is one of the staff stenographers. Sir James thought you would need one. Miss Dawkins will be attached to
Sucking a bar of nougat Simon emerged into the now deserted studio. On three sides of him, to the height of twelve feet, rose in appalling completeness the marble walls of the scene-restaurant; at his elbow a bottle of imitation champagne still stood in its pail of melted ice; above and beyond extended the vast gloom of rafters and ceiling.
“Fact,” said Simon to himself, “the world of action ... the pulse ... Money, hunger ... Reality.”
Next morning he was called with the words, “Two young ladies waiting to see you.”
“Two?”
Simon put on his dressing gown and, orange juice in hand, entered his sitting room. Miss Grits nodded pleasantly.
“We arranged to start at ten,” she said. “But it doesn’t really matter. I shall not require you very much in the early stages. This is Miss Dawkins. She is one of the staff stenographers. Sir James thought you would need one. Miss Dawkins will be attached to
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres Perseus and Andromeda painting
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres Perseus and Andromeda paintingGuido Reni Baptism of Christ paintingGuido Reni reni Aurora painting
The girl is not to be discouraged; she lights another cigarette.
“I SAW YOU LAST NIGHT AT THE COCKATRICE—YOU DIDN’T SEE ME THOUGH.”
“THE COCKATRICE—LAST NIGHT—OH YES—WHAT A PITY!”
“WHO WERE ALL THOSE PEOPLE YOU WERE WITH?”
“OH, I DON’T KNOW, JUST SOME PEOPLE, YOU KNOW.”
He makes a movement as if to go away.
“WHO WAS THAT GIRL YOU WERE DANCING WITH SO MUCH—THE PRETTY ONE WITH FAIR HAIR—IN BLACK?”
“OH, DON’T YOU KNOW HER? YOU MUST MEET HER ONE DAY—I SAY, I’M AWFULLY SORRY, BUT I MUST GO DOWN AND GET SOME PAPER FROM MISS PHILBRICK.”
“I CAN LEND YOU SOME.”
But he is gone.
Ada says, “Too much talk in this picture, eh, Gladys?” and the voice with the Cambridge accent is heard saying something about the “elimination of the caption.”
ONE OF life’S UNFORTUNATES.
Enter a young woman huddled in a dressing-gown, preceded by young Mr. Maltby.
“The model—coo—I say.”
She has a slight cold and sniffles into a tiny ball of handkerchief; she mounts the dais and sits down ungracefully. Young Mr. Maltby nods good morning to those of the pupils who catch his eye; the girl who was talking to Adam catches his eye; he smiles.
“’E’s in love with ’er.”
The girl is not to be discouraged; she lights another cigarette.
“I SAW YOU LAST NIGHT AT THE COCKATRICE—YOU DIDN’T SEE ME THOUGH.”
“THE COCKATRICE—LAST NIGHT—OH YES—WHAT A PITY!”
“WHO WERE ALL THOSE PEOPLE YOU WERE WITH?”
“OH, I DON’T KNOW, JUST SOME PEOPLE, YOU KNOW.”
He makes a movement as if to go away.
“WHO WAS THAT GIRL YOU WERE DANCING WITH SO MUCH—THE PRETTY ONE WITH FAIR HAIR—IN BLACK?”
“OH, DON’T YOU KNOW HER? YOU MUST MEET HER ONE DAY—I SAY, I’M AWFULLY SORRY, BUT I MUST GO DOWN AND GET SOME PAPER FROM MISS PHILBRICK.”
“I CAN LEND YOU SOME.”
But he is gone.
Ada says, “Too much talk in this picture, eh, Gladys?” and the voice with the Cambridge accent is heard saying something about the “elimination of the caption.”
ONE OF life’S UNFORTUNATES.
Enter a young woman huddled in a dressing-gown, preceded by young Mr. Maltby.
“The model—coo—I say.”
She has a slight cold and sniffles into a tiny ball of handkerchief; she mounts the dais and sits down ungracefully. Young Mr. Maltby nods good morning to those of the pupils who catch his eye; the girl who was talking to Adam catches his eye; he smiles.
“’E’s in love with ’er.”
Edgar Degas Absinthe painting
Edgar Degas Absinthe paintingFrida Kahlo The Broken Column paintingFrida Kahlo Self Portrait painting
There was no evidence that tea consumption was . However, research suggests that tea can impair the body's ability to absorb iron from food, meaning people at risk of anaemia should avoid drinking tea around mealtimes.
Tea is not dehydrating. It y drink -----Claire Williamson of the British nutritionFoundation
Dr Ruxton's team found average tea consumption was just under three cups per day.
She said the increasing popularity of soft drinks meant many people were not drinking as much tea as before.
"Tea drinking is most common in older people, the 40 plus age range. In older people, tea sometimes made up about 70% of fluid intake so it is a really important contributor," she said.
Claire Williamson of the British nutrition Foundation said: "Studies in the laboratory have shown potential benefits.
There was no evidence that tea consumption was . However, research suggests that tea can impair the body's ability to absorb iron from food, meaning people at risk of anaemia should avoid drinking tea around mealtimes.
Tea is not dehydrating. It y drink -----Claire Williamson of the British nutritionFoundation
Dr Ruxton's team found average tea consumption was just under three cups per day.
She said the increasing popularity of soft drinks meant many people were not drinking as much tea as before.
"Tea drinking is most common in older people, the 40 plus age range. In older people, tea sometimes made up about 70% of fluid intake so it is a really important contributor," she said.
Claire Williamson of the British nutrition Foundation said: "Studies in the laboratory have shown potential benefits.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Salvador Dali Paysage aux papillons (Landscape with Butterflies) painting
Salvador Dali Paysage aux papillons (Landscape with Butterflies) paintingSalvador Dali Salvador Dali Mirage paintingSalvador Dali Metamorphosis of Narcissus painting
More gently I took my mother's elbow; clucking and smiling, she bagged her yarn and obediently rose.
"At least give me a minute to fix myhair!" Anastasia said. Her tone had changed, was newly resolute and guileful, as was her face. I surmised, not without mixed feelings, that what had been at odds -- her wish to assert herself as I'd advised and her wish to go to Tower Hall with me instead of to her with Greene -- were now in league: she would attempt to bribe Greene with her favors. And though I myself had urged such initiative upon her, the twinge I felt was not owing entirely to the danger of her succeeding and thus following me into the Belly. To assure myself that I was notjealous , or envious of Greene, I smiled and winked at her, as if to say, "I see right through you, and wish you luck."
She saw and understood me, I'm sure, but regarded me coolly.
"Watch out for the nuts," Greene advised me.
Anastasia patted her hair, and slipped her arm primly under his. "He hasn't any. I'm glad I've got aman to take Home."
More gently I took my mother's elbow; clucking and smiling, she bagged her yarn and obediently rose.
"At least give me a minute to fix myhair!" Anastasia said. Her tone had changed, was newly resolute and guileful, as was her face. I surmised, not without mixed feelings, that what had been at odds -- her wish to assert herself as I'd advised and her wish to go to Tower Hall with me instead of to her with Greene -- were now in league: she would attempt to bribe Greene with her favors. And though I myself had urged such initiative upon her, the twinge I felt was not owing entirely to the danger of her succeeding and thus following me into the Belly. To assure myself that I was notjealous , or envious of Greene, I smiled and winked at her, as if to say, "I see right through you, and wish you luck."
She saw and understood me, I'm sure, but regarded me coolly.
"Watch out for the nuts," Greene advised me.
Anastasia patted her hair, and slipped her arm primly under his. "He hasn't any. I'm glad I've got aman to take Home."
Thursday, September 11, 2008
George Frederick Watts Charity
George Frederick Watts CharityFrancisco de Goya Clothed MajaBlind Man's Buff them both and administered first aid; amnesty or no amnesty, he declared, he was fetching them to Main Detention, where he meant to stay himself until Rexford should sober up and go "back where he belongs." As for Anastasia, she might breed a barnful of billy-goat bastards for all he cared.
Leonid said flatly: "He cares."grasped a bottle by the neck and broke off its bottom, and armed with these ugly weapons they set to. For a time it was crouch and feint; the combatants, Stoker had to admit, were equally fearless, resolute, wary, and strong of arm, so that it seemed they might come to a bloodless impasse. Then Leonid had cried something in passionate Nikolayan and flung wide his arms, and Greene, believing himself insulted and attacked, had slashed in with the bottle. But even as he thrust he realized that his opponent was impulsively yielding the victory
"Yep," said Greene. "Anybody can see that."
Stoker responded with a jeer. "So there they sit, Goat-Boy: two blind bats! Are they passed or failed?"
Leonid said flatly: "He cares."grasped a bottle by the neck and broke off its bottom, and armed with these ugly weapons they set to. For a time it was crouch and feint; the combatants, Stoker had to admit, were equally fearless, resolute, wary, and strong of arm, so that it seemed they might come to a bloodless impasse. Then Leonid had cried something in passionate Nikolayan and flung wide his arms, and Greene, believing himself insulted and attacked, had slashed in with the bottle. But even as he thrust he realized that his opponent was impulsively yielding the victory
"Yep," said Greene. "Anybody can see that."
Stoker responded with a jeer. "So there they sit, Goat-Boy: two blind bats! Are they passed or failed?"
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Gustav Klimt paintings
Gustav Klimt paintings
Georgia O'Keeffe paintings
Gustave Clarence Rodolphe Boulanger paintings
Don't you really mean you're just convinced I'm the Grand Tutor?" I asked gruffly. "You loved Bray, too. . ."
"No!" It was true she had once believed in Harold Bray's Grand-Tutorship as well as mine, she said indignantly, and that now she believed in me exclusively, whetherI did or not; but she had never loved Bray, only honored and obeyed him, and her love for me had nothing to do with her acknowledgment of my Tutorhood. In fact, the two sentiments were at cross-purposes: "I want to do what You tell me to, much as I hate the idea of other men," she said, "because You're the Grand Tutor, and what You say must be right. But the reasonwhy I hate the idea is that I love You, George!" She looked at me straight, and took a breath. "I wantYou to make love to me!"
I strode about the Treatment Room, greatly excited.
"Youtold me to assert myself," she said.
"I know! I know!"
"I want to do what we did in the Living Room!" she cried. "You shouldn't just say 'I know, I know'!"
"I understand, Anastasia. The trouble is --"
Georgia O'Keeffe paintings
Gustave Clarence Rodolphe Boulanger paintings
Don't you really mean you're just convinced I'm the Grand Tutor?" I asked gruffly. "You loved Bray, too. . ."
"No!" It was true she had once believed in Harold Bray's Grand-Tutorship as well as mine, she said indignantly, and that now she believed in me exclusively, whetherI did or not; but she had never loved Bray, only honored and obeyed him, and her love for me had nothing to do with her acknowledgment of my Tutorhood. In fact, the two sentiments were at cross-purposes: "I want to do what You tell me to, much as I hate the idea of other men," she said, "because You're the Grand Tutor, and what You say must be right. But the reasonwhy I hate the idea is that I love You, George!" She looked at me straight, and took a breath. "I wantYou to make love to me!"
I strode about the Treatment Room, greatly excited.
"Youtold me to assert myself," she said.
"I know! I know!"
"I want to do what we did in the Living Room!" she cried. "You shouldn't just say 'I know, I know'!"
"I understand, Anastasia. The trouble is --"
Monday, September 8, 2008
Lorenzo Lotto paintings
Lorenzo Lotto paintings
Louis Aston Knight paintings
Leon Bazile Perrault paintings
Lodge Motel. From my advice to Anastasia he inferred correctly that he should assert whatever it was he had vainly tried to rid himself of; further, he'd concluded that that must necessarily be some kind of ingenuousness or ignorance of himself, inasmuch as he'd devoted his whole l to their opposites. That he couldsee no defect in his insight proved to him that the defect existed, since perfect insight would see its imperfections; had he not been naïve to think himself not naïve? His first prescription, therefore, had been to commit himself to the custody of his wife, who had regressed to the psychological age of five. But much as he'd enjoyed playing "Doctor" with her in the sandbox of the chronic-ward playground, he'd come to realize that however correct his diagnosis and prescription, they were invalid perforce, as he'd arrived at them himself.
"So this morning he askedme to tell him what to do!" Anastasia exclaimed. "As ifI were the doctor! I said he'd better talk to You, thatI didn't understand this crazy -- and the way he thanked me, you'd think that was exactly what he wanted to hear! As if he couldn't have thought of it himself!"
Louis Aston Knight paintings
Leon Bazile Perrault paintings
Lodge Motel. From my advice to Anastasia he inferred correctly that he should assert whatever it was he had vainly tried to rid himself of; further, he'd concluded that that must necessarily be some kind of ingenuousness or ignorance of himself, inasmuch as he'd devoted his whole l to their opposites. That he couldsee no defect in his insight proved to him that the defect existed, since perfect insight would see its imperfections; had he not been naïve to think himself not naïve? His first prescription, therefore, had been to commit himself to the custody of his wife, who had regressed to the psychological age of five. But much as he'd enjoyed playing "Doctor" with her in the sandbox of the chronic-ward playground, he'd come to realize that however correct his diagnosis and prescription, they were invalid perforce, as he'd arrived at them himself.
"So this morning he askedme to tell him what to do!" Anastasia exclaimed. "As ifI were the doctor! I said he'd better talk to You, thatI didn't understand this crazy -- and the way he thanked me, you'd think that was exactly what he wanted to hear! As if he couldn't have thought of it himself!"
Friday, September 5, 2008
Diane Romanello paintings
Diane Romanello paintings
Diego Rivera paintings
Don Li-Leger paintings
distressed Max became: it was a curious power, and in some queer way a balm to that same self-despise, which I confess I larded on. When I protested once more that I was neither fish nor fowl but some abomination of a kind with WESCAC, which the campus were well purged of, he pleaded, "Na, boy, please, here's the truth now: who you are, nobody knows: not me, not George, not anybody. Butwhat you are -- that's what you got to hear now. It's thehistory you got to understand."
He resumed his narrative, shaking his head and fingering his beard ruefully as he spoke. Twenty years ago, he said, a cruel herd of men called Bonifacists, in Siegfrieder College, had attacked the neighboring quads. The Siegfrieders were joined by certain other institutions, and soon every collegein the University was involved in the Second Campus Riot. Untold numbers perished on both sides; the populus Moishian community in Siegfried was destroyed. Max himself, born and educated in those famous halls where , and music had flowered in happier semesters, barely escaped
Diego Rivera paintings
Don Li-Leger paintings
distressed Max became: it was a curious power, and in some queer way a balm to that same self-despise, which I confess I larded on. When I protested once more that I was neither fish nor fowl but some abomination of a kind with WESCAC, which the campus were well purged of, he pleaded, "Na, boy, please, here's the truth now: who you are, nobody knows: not me, not George, not anybody. Butwhat you are -- that's what you got to hear now. It's thehistory you got to understand."
He resumed his narrative, shaking his head and fingering his beard ruefully as he spoke. Twenty years ago, he said, a cruel herd of men called Bonifacists, in Siegfrieder College, had attacked the neighboring quads. The Siegfrieders were joined by certain other institutions, and soon every collegein the University was involved in the Second Campus Riot. Untold numbers perished on both sides; the populus Moishian community in Siegfried was destroyed. Max himself, born and educated in those famous halls where , and music had flowered in happier semesters, barely escaped
Gertrude Stein
Gertrude SteinPortrait of MadameGirls at the Beach
people call Him crazy, He might be the real thing, you got to decide. I believe in George."
Stoker feigned disgust. "Then you must believe he'snot the Grand Tutor and Bray is, since that's what George says himself."
Undismayed, Max explained what I'd not fully realized I felt until I heard him: first, that all I claimed for Bray was that he wasn't simply flunked, as I'd previously believed: there was something extraordinary, out of the merely human, about him -- as about myself, in both my parentage and my kidship. Second, that my admitted failure applied only to my efforts at Tutoring before I myself had passed the Finals and thus had no bearing on my present authenticity. If indeed those efforts were failures, which had successfully revealed to my Tutees such flunkèd aspects of themselves. . .
"Me it sure did!" Leonid cried dolefully. "Such a selfiness I never thought! But I don't care!"
"Nuts," said Stoker. "A man that tells me I should pimp for my wife is a Grand Tutor? And tells her to spread her legs for the whole campus?"
people call Him crazy, He might be the real thing, you got to decide. I believe in George."
Stoker feigned disgust. "Then you must believe he'snot the Grand Tutor and Bray is, since that's what George says himself."
Undismayed, Max explained what I'd not fully realized I felt until I heard him: first, that all I claimed for Bray was that he wasn't simply flunked, as I'd previously believed: there was something extraordinary, out of the merely human, about him -- as about myself, in both my parentage and my kidship. Second, that my admitted failure applied only to my efforts at Tutoring before I myself had passed the Finals and thus had no bearing on my present authenticity. If indeed those efforts were failures, which had successfully revealed to my Tutees such flunkèd aspects of themselves. . .
"Me it sure did!" Leonid cried dolefully. "Such a selfiness I never thought! But I don't care!"
"Nuts," said Stoker. "A man that tells me I should pimp for my wife is a Grand Tutor? And tells her to spread her legs for the whole campus?"
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Ballet Rehearsal
Ballet RehearsalAbsintheThe Broken Column
now I no longer thought myself Grand Tutor, he was finally able to imagine I was. My other Tutees, those I'd seen and heard of who had inclined to Bray and doubted me, appeared to have reversed their attitudes in view of the flunkèd state I'd led them to, or led them to see, and doubted now the one who'd called them passed. Their problem, as some saw and others didn't, was complex: if Bray's Certifications were false, how reconcile his Certifying me for having declared them so? And if I was true, how assimilate my self-flunkage and late defense of Bray? Only Max was untroubled by the conundrum: "All the better it don't make sense," he would say to Leonid, My chill Ladyship, or Peter Greene, who sometimes now visited. "So it's a mystery, you shouldn't analyze."
He was become my best apologist, if not my best Tutee. For though Anastasia wept and protested my new counsel, especially regarding her connection with Bray, it was not long before Stoker told me (with a wink, as in former times) that the two conditions of my release might soon be reduced to one: he'd observed his wife against
now I no longer thought myself Grand Tutor, he was finally able to imagine I was. My other Tutees, those I'd seen and heard of who had inclined to Bray and doubted me, appeared to have reversed their attitudes in view of the flunkèd state I'd led them to, or led them to see, and doubted now the one who'd called them passed. Their problem, as some saw and others didn't, was complex: if Bray's Certifications were false, how reconcile his Certifying me for having declared them so? And if I was true, how assimilate my self-flunkage and late defense of Bray? Only Max was untroubled by the conundrum: "All the better it don't make sense," he would say to Leonid, My chill Ladyship, or Peter Greene, who sometimes now visited. "So it's a mystery, you shouldn't analyze."
He was become my best apologist, if not my best Tutee. For though Anastasia wept and protested my new counsel, especially regarding her connection with Bray, it was not long before Stoker told me (with a wink, as in former times) that the two conditions of my release might soon be reduced to one: he'd observed his wife against
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
John William Waterhouse Echo and Narcissus painting
John William Waterhouse Echo and Narcissus paintingJohn William Waterhouse The Lady of Shalott paintingLeonardo da Vinci The Last Supper painting
already. Ido hope neither of you will be EATen. . ."
"For Founder's sake, man, be yourself!" Bray rebuked him. But we could tarry no longer; the crowd had pushed through. Before I could assess the genuineness of Stoker's attitude we were obliged to retreat into the other lift -- barely large enough for the two of us, since it was designed for large self-propelled tape-carts rather than for human passengers. The library-scientists fled to safety; the guards pressed tightly together to shield the lift a moment longer; Stoker I heard saying, "Do be reasonable, ladies and gentlemen. . ." Any moment I expected Bray to withdraw and either confess his imposture or attempt some excuse for not accompanying me -- in which latter case I was resolved to denounce him and, if possible, force him to the consequences of his fraud. But when I asked, to taunt him, "Shall we go?" he himself touched a button markedBelly, the only one on the panel. The doors slid to at once, and as there was no light in the lift, we went
already. Ido hope neither of you will be EATen. . ."
"For Founder's sake, man, be yourself!" Bray rebuked him. But we could tarry no longer; the crowd had pushed through. Before I could assess the genuineness of Stoker's attitude we were obliged to retreat into the other lift -- barely large enough for the two of us, since it was designed for large self-propelled tape-carts rather than for human passengers. The library-scientists fled to safety; the guards pressed tightly together to shield the lift a moment longer; Stoker I heard saying, "Do be reasonable, ladies and gentlemen. . ." Any moment I expected Bray to withdraw and either confess his imposture or attempt some excuse for not accompanying me -- in which latter case I was resolved to denounce him and, if possible, force him to the consequences of his fraud. But when I asked, to taunt him, "Shall we go?" he himself touched a button markedBelly, the only one on the panel. The doors slid to at once, and as there was no light in the lift, we went
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