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In Mr. Brooke the hereditary strain of Puritan energy was clearly in abeyance; but in his niece Dorothea it glowed alike through faults and virtues, turning sometimes into impatience of her uncle's talk or his way of "letting things be" on his estate, and making her long all the more for the time when she would be of age and have some command of money for generous schemes. She was regarded as an heiress; for not only had the sisters seven hundred a-year each from their parents, but if Dorothea married and had a son, that son would inherit Mr. [...]
FROM the besieged Ardea all in post,
Borne by the trustless wings of false desire,
Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host,
And to Collatium bears the lightless fire
Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire
And girdle with embracing flames the waist
Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste.
Haply that name of 'chaste' unhappily set
This bateless edge on his keen appetite;
When Collatine unwisely did not let
To praise the clear unmatched red and white
Which triumph'd in that sky of his delight,
Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties,
With pure aspects did him peculiar duties.
For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent,
Unlock'd the treasure of his happy [...]
...Jenny realized she was rambling, but things were happening at hyper-speed. She wished she could turn the clock back and start the day over. She wished she had her own show again, she wished Johnny King would go back into the hole he climbed out of.
"Jenny, I don’t know if you’re aware of what’s going on. Why don’t we get out of here, have some breakfast and talk. Let me change and I’ll meet you across the street in about an hour."
"OK." Jenny weakly replied.
Tony left and Jenny immediately called Gayle on the intercom. "Get in here. I need help."
Whether we’re somebody big or a shadow
Everyone has a right to express their creative side
Anywhere on their body—a picture of Madonna,
Resting near our heart, or words from an ancestor.
The whereabouts of your artistic placement
Adds to its emotional want—your own galleria.
Tobacco grey may be the color of choice, or a light
Teal to fill in parts of a full moonset.
Oblige imagination and make your body a fresco
Or a secret message of graffito.
January 24, 2067 AD was not really Rei's last day on Earth but it was his last day before entering quarantine. It was the last day he would ever spend with his family and the woman who he thought was the one true love of his life. At least until he met Rome. Part 3 of 4.
“Sure,” Rei said. “This thing is worth a hundred pair of sunglasses.” He sat down to examine the present more closely. He reached into the box, fished out the set of earbuds and placed them in his ears. He held up the other end [...]
There’s a new film on the life of the Beat poet, Jack Kerouac: On the Road. It’s directed by Brazilian filmmaker and film producer of international prominence, Walter Salles. There’s also a new book on Kerouac by American award-winning author of fiction and nonfiction, Joyce Johnson: The Voice Is All: The Lonely Victory of Jack Kerouac. Both are reviewed in a recent edition of The New York Review of Books, 21/3/’13.
This review in The NYRB stimulated my thoughts on Kerouac, a poet who has been in my life in one way or another since he rose to fame in the late [...]
WE went tiptoeing along a path amongst the trees back towards the end of the widow's garden, stooping down so as the branches wouldn't scrape our heads. When we was passing by the kitchen I fell over a root and made a noise. We scrouched down and laid still. Miss Watson's big nigger, named Jim, was setting in the kitchen door; we could see him pretty clear, because there was a light behind him. He got up and stretched his neck out about a minute, listening. Then he says: "Who dah?"
He listened some more; then he come tiptoeing down and [...]
Not for the first time, she wished her father had stuck with honest trade. She had no evidence that what he did here was illegal, but his silence on the matter spoke volumes. Most times he gave her more information about their endeavors than she wanted for the sake of her education; she was, after all, supposed to inherit the ship from him in his twilight years. The thought that the Maker's Mark might already be hers battered her will, and the fact that she might immediately lose the ship through her inability to repay the debt shamed her. How [...]