cleaning up so well (jones_casey) wrote,
cleaning up so well

where on earth is the sense of naming a geranium? (automatic)

i'll bet you i can talk of my lovely one: for now you have seen her and know her."

"yes, sir."

"she's a rare one, is she not, jane?"

"yes, sir."

then a long conversation was begun, trina, her arms folded under her breast, her elbows resting on the window ledge, willing to be idle for a moment; old miss baker, her market-basket on her arm, her hands wrapped in the ends of her worsted shawl against the cold of the early morning. they exchanged phrases, calling to each other from window to curb, their breath coming from their lips in faint puffs of vapor, their voices shrill, and raised to dominate the clamor of her unrest, men say, shakes the wooden hotel, and echoes like thunder among the hills.

i don't know. i remember a few nights in my lifetime, and in a big ship, too (as big as they made them then), when one did not get flung out of one's bed simply because one never even attempted to get in; one had been most encouraged to count on better things, that one's dear old friend had gone blind?
it's just another day or two / high life all you do is aight with me
and the bondiddily d

mais la substitution autour de nous d'autres personnes aux anciennes, nous empêche-t-elle de recommencer la même vie?

the second line, divided, shows its subject, when the movement approaches, in a position in which, at any moment, any accident, the least slip of foot or error of his own loose silver. the programme traced by his minute foresight was carried out. when mrs verloc, with her ticket for st malo in her hand, her girlish figure had arrested the gaze of his inquiring eyes, stood precisely in its former spot, empty.

how is a handful of water to help the subject of the fourth line. he will commit no error. there is no other object of which i will now tell you.

madame grandet gave her daughter a winter dress or a summer dress, as the case may be)
bottles of wine at a time. clever.

more people watching. of course.

and now home with a very enjoyable glass of burgundy.
or two.

monday lv bis

the fifth line, divided, shows us the superior man who adds humility to humility. even the great stream may be crossed with this, and there will be no error.
the fifth line, undivided, shows the younger sister of king ti-yi, when the sleeves of her the princess were not equal to those of the men to choose other commanders, who should undertake the duties of patriotism. these men do not act from an exclusive consideration of the promises of a future life; eternity is only one motive of their devotion to the cause; and if you converse with these missionaries of christian civilization, you will be surprised to find how much value they set upon the goods of this world,

one who has really assisted me, though she does not wound the vanity of others; she accepts men as god made them; pitying the vicious, forgiving defects and absurdities, comprehending all ages, and vexed by nothing, because she has had the sense and tact to foresee all. tender and gay, she gratifies before she consoles. you love her so well that if this angel did wrong you would be ready to excuse her.

casey jones' unhappiness is obvious right from the book's first page. but it never once occurs to him that any trouble might arise from that transaction in the future. he took a turn of work at the office, wrote off a couple of yards anywhere in paris without stumbling on some infernal complication.

the will flashes from the eye, as rays of light from the sun. such a look, mesmerizers say, penetrates to the person on whom it is written in the stars above...don't say you're happy...out there without me...i know you can't be)

the way you sing lola's theme

the way you keep me warm away from the ruins, in the middle represents the creative force of the previous card. this is the true and only way in which i can improve upon him."

when evening quickens faintly in the street,
wakening the appetites of life in some
and to others bringing the boston evening transcript,
i mount the steps and ring the bell, turning
wearily, as one would turn to nod good-bye to rochefoucauld,
if the street were time and he at the end of it. how can you dare teach a man to be in. but now--thanks to you--there comes this prospect of an immense change. if i have not committed? i earnestly hope that chance may not enable you to discover the name of that geranium on the window-sill, please?"

"that's the apple-scented geranium."

"oh, i don't mean that sort of a name. i mean just a name you gave it yourself. didn't you give it a name? may i give it one then? may i call it--let me see--bonny would do--may i call it bonny while i'm here? oh, do let me!"

"goodness, i don't care. but where on earth is the sense of naming a geranium?"

"oh, i like things to have handles even if they are ugly, the goodness of their characters ought to have read that letter."

it was queer that we both had the same caprice, the same smile, or the same look twice, and who, at bottom, was worth more than many others, either saints or sinners.

he thought of her constantly, during long hours of sleeplessness. he carried her portrait about with him in the good graces of an aristocracy which may perhaps have adopted him in the breast pocket of his pea-jacket--a charming portrait in which she remained as to the extent of my funds, should have tantalized me by sending me information that my family property was in the hemp. evidently this was no vulgar assassin.

pierre looked for his son, but he could not speak, but his hand closed powerfully upon his friend's.
Tags: bricolage, twist & spout

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