I should have had the same thoughts come out boldly to the effect that time wil
Posted on April 14th, 2012
Very few ladies would give their spouses, we believe, the trouble of this debate; and few gentlemen are so very nice as yours in this respect; for I (but what signifies what such a mean soul as I think, compared to so learned and brave a gentleman; yet I) always thought your dear mother, and she has been a pretty woman too, in her time, never looked so lovely, as when supra society shoes I saw her, like black supra the pelican in the wilderness, feeding her young ones from her kind breast:--and had I never so supra vaider black noble an estate, I should have had the same thoughts. come out boldly to the effect that time will tell." "What do you think?" "Me? I just type what he thinks. On a special portable with oversize print." She gestured at three deep-breathing German matrons in tailored suits marching by. "I know that I feel queer sailing on a ship of theirs." "Didn't your father just publish a book? I supra vaider purple seem to remember reviews. "Yes. just a paste-up of his broadcasts, really." "I'd like to read it. Writers awe me. I have a tough time putting one word down after another." "I saw a copy in the ship's library. He sent me there to check," she said, with a grin that reminded him of Madeline, catching him in selfimportance or pretense. He wished Warren could meet this girl or one like her. Last night he had not paid her much mind, with the busty, halfnaked, talkative blonde there. prosopopeia to wine and the bowl: "Du, herrlich Glas ..." ("Thou, noble glass ..."). Faith-- the one thing in the world which should be spontaneous, springing from the soul like an unexpected sudden stream--was a manufactured article, a commodity of trade. Their patriotic songs were made for docile flocks of sheep basking in unison.... Shout, supra skytop then!-- What! Must you go on lying--"idealizing"--till you are surfeited, till it brings you to slaughter and madness!... Christophe ended by hating all idealism. He preferred frank brutality to such lying. But at heart he was more of an idealist than the rest, and he had not--he *#mr_caibinbin04 could not have--any more real enemies than the brutal realists whom he thought he preferred. He was blinded by passion. He was frozen by the mist, the anmic lying, "the sunless phantom Ideas." With his whole being he reached upwards to the sun.