Jacques-Louis David paintings
John Everett Millais paintings
James Jacques Joseph Tissot paintings
it began.
A few nights later I was engrossed in an essay when I heard someone beating on my oak.
“Go away, I’m busy.”
“It’s I, Guy. May I come in?”
“Oh, it’s you. Well do you mind awfully if I work tonight? I’ve got to get this essay done by eleven tomorrow.”
“Let me in, Dick. I won’t disturb you. I only wanted to know if I could come in and read in here.”
So I opened the oak and when he came into the light I saw that he was looking pale and worried.
“Thanks awfully, Dick. I hope you don’t mind my coming in. I couldn’t work in my room.”
So I returned to my essay and in two hours it was finished. I turned round and saw that Guy was not working. He was just sitting gazing into my fire.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve finished this thing and I’m going to bed.”
He roused himself, “Well, I suppose I must get back,” and then at the door, “You know
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Francisco de Zurbaran paintings
Francisco de Zurbaran paintings
Guan zeju paintings
Gustav Klimt paintings
painted just as I was told to at the Academy school, to which I was sent. And everyone was very kind to me and I was introduced to lots of rich men, not only the moneyed Jews but men of your class who spend lots of money on being bored and are called ‘in society’ by lower middle class novelists. I began to acquire social polish and was being shaped into a pretty little gentleman; but all the time particularly when I could feel the grain of the canvas under my brush, I was dissatisfied.
“When I was nineteen they gave me a studio, nothing like this, of course, but a decent enough shed with a good north light—and set me up as a Society portrait painter. Well I painted and flattered the ugly old women, that came to me, for a time; but after a little I found I could stand it no longer. I was painting badly, insipidly, insincerely, and I knew I could do better. I saw that the whole Academic conception was false—yes, that sounds
Guan zeju paintings
Gustav Klimt paintings
painted just as I was told to at the Academy school, to which I was sent. And everyone was very kind to me and I was introduced to lots of rich men, not only the moneyed Jews but men of your class who spend lots of money on being bored and are called ‘in society’ by lower middle class novelists. I began to acquire social polish and was being shaped into a pretty little gentleman; but all the time particularly when I could feel the grain of the canvas under my brush, I was dissatisfied.
“When I was nineteen they gave me a studio, nothing like this, of course, but a decent enough shed with a good north light—and set me up as a Society portrait painter. Well I painted and flattered the ugly old women, that came to me, for a time; but after a little I found I could stand it no longer. I was painting badly, insipidly, insincerely, and I knew I could do better. I saw that the whole Academic conception was false—yes, that sounds
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Mary Cassatt Children on the Shore painting
Mary Cassatt Children on the Shore paintingMary Cassatt Young Mother Sewing paintingGuido Reni The Penitent Magdalene painting
You see,” said Dr. Antonic, as the door closed, “she is always hopeful. Now I do not hope. Do you think,” he asked, “that in Neutralia Western Culture might be born again? That this country has been preserved by Destiny from the horrors of war so that it can become a beacon of hope for the world?”
“No,” said Scott-King.
“Do you not?” asked Dr. Antonic anxiously. “Do you not? Neither do I.”
That evening Miss Bombaum and Scott-King took a cab to the suburbs and left it at a café where they met a man who had sat with Miss Bombaum in the Ritz on her first evening. No names were exchanged.
“Who’s this guy, Martha?”
“An English friend of mine I want you to help.”
“Going far?”
“England. Can he see the chief?”
“I’ll go ask. He’s on the level?”
“Surely.”
“Well, stick around while I ask.”
He went to telephone and returned saying, “The chief ’ll see him.
We can drop him off there, then have our talk.”
They took another cab and drove further from the city into a district of tanneries and
You see,” said Dr. Antonic, as the door closed, “she is always hopeful. Now I do not hope. Do you think,” he asked, “that in Neutralia Western Culture might be born again? That this country has been preserved by Destiny from the horrors of war so that it can become a beacon of hope for the world?”
“No,” said Scott-King.
“Do you not?” asked Dr. Antonic anxiously. “Do you not? Neither do I.”
That evening Miss Bombaum and Scott-King took a cab to the suburbs and left it at a café where they met a man who had sat with Miss Bombaum in the Ritz on her first evening. No names were exchanged.
“Who’s this guy, Martha?”
“An English friend of mine I want you to help.”
“Going far?”
“England. Can he see the chief?”
“I’ll go ask. He’s on the level?”
“Surely.”
“Well, stick around while I ask.”
He went to telephone and returned saying, “The chief ’ll see him.
We can drop him off there, then have our talk.”
They took another cab and drove further from the city into a district of tanneries and
Paul Gauguin Arearea painting
Paul Gauguin Arearea paintingGeorges Seurat The Circus paintingGeorges Seurat Le Chahut painting
toecap, in surface like the cover of a well-worn Bible. “Ah, you have observed my labour-saving device. I wear them night and morning. They are a constant perplexity to those in authority. When questioned, as happened two or three times a week during my first term, I say they are a naval pattern which my father, on account of extreme poverty, has asked me to wear out. That embarrasses them. But I am sure you do not share these middle-class prejudices. Dear boy, your name, please, to this subversive manifesto.”
Still Charles hesitated. The suggestion outraged Spierpoint taste in all particulars. Whatever intrigues, blandishments and self-advertisements were employed by the ambitious at Spierpoint were always elaborately disguised. Self-effacement and depreciation were the rule. To put oneself explicitly forward for preferment was literally not done. Moreover, the lead came from a boy who was not only in another house and immeasurably Charles’s inferior, but also a notorious eccentric. A term back Charles would have rejected the proposal with horror, but today and all this term he was aware of a new voice in his inner counsels, a detached, critical Hyde who intruded his presence more and more often on the
toecap, in surface like the cover of a well-worn Bible. “Ah, you have observed my labour-saving device. I wear them night and morning. They are a constant perplexity to those in authority. When questioned, as happened two or three times a week during my first term, I say they are a naval pattern which my father, on account of extreme poverty, has asked me to wear out. That embarrasses them. But I am sure you do not share these middle-class prejudices. Dear boy, your name, please, to this subversive manifesto.”
Still Charles hesitated. The suggestion outraged Spierpoint taste in all particulars. Whatever intrigues, blandishments and self-advertisements were employed by the ambitious at Spierpoint were always elaborately disguised. Self-effacement and depreciation were the rule. To put oneself explicitly forward for preferment was literally not done. Moreover, the lead came from a boy who was not only in another house and immeasurably Charles’s inferior, but also a notorious eccentric. A term back Charles would have rejected the proposal with horror, but today and all this term he was aware of a new voice in his inner counsels, a detached, critical Hyde who intruded his presence more and more often on the
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema A Harvest Festival painting
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema A Harvest Festival paintingSir Lawrence Alma-Tadema A coign of vantage paintingSir Lawrence Alma-Tadema Caracalla and Geta painting
another’s arms as though from shelter after a storm ... “So that’s over. Was it as bad as you expected?” “Worse, worse. You were splendid” ... perhaps they—and Julia too?—were cutting a caper on the drawing-room carpet in an ecstasy of liberation.
“That,” I said to myself, “is what you have bought with your five pounds.”
That evening, next day and for several days, I disliked Lucy. I made a story for all who knew him, of Roger’s dinner party, leaving the impression that this was the kind of life Lucy enjoyed and that she was driving Roger into it. But for all that I did not abate my resolve to force my friendship upon her. I can give no plausible account of this inconsistency. I was certainly not, consciously, in love with her. I did not, even, at that time find her conspicuously beautiful. In seeking her friendship I did not look for affection nor, exactly, for esteem. I sought recognition. I wanted to assert the simple fact of my separate and individual existence. I could not by any effort of will regard her as being, like Trixie, “one of Roger’s girls,” and I demanded reciprocation; I would not be regarded as, like Basil,
another’s arms as though from shelter after a storm ... “So that’s over. Was it as bad as you expected?” “Worse, worse. You were splendid” ... perhaps they—and Julia too?—were cutting a caper on the drawing-room carpet in an ecstasy of liberation.
“That,” I said to myself, “is what you have bought with your five pounds.”
That evening, next day and for several days, I disliked Lucy. I made a story for all who knew him, of Roger’s dinner party, leaving the impression that this was the kind of life Lucy enjoyed and that she was driving Roger into it. But for all that I did not abate my resolve to force my friendship upon her. I can give no plausible account of this inconsistency. I was certainly not, consciously, in love with her. I did not, even, at that time find her conspicuously beautiful. In seeking her friendship I did not look for affection nor, exactly, for esteem. I sought recognition. I wanted to assert the simple fact of my separate and individual existence. I could not by any effort of will regard her as being, like Trixie, “one of Roger’s girls,” and I demanded reciprocation; I would not be regarded as, like Basil,
Monday, September 22, 2008
Pablo Picasso Ambroise Vollard painting
Pablo Picasso Ambroise Vollard paintingYvonne Jeanette Karlsen Nude paintingSteve Hanks Interior View painting
made to line up and give a modest performance of shuffling and hand clapping which was called a native dance. Women tourists particularly seemed to like these expeditions and paid heavily for them—a hundred francs or more. But they were unpopular with everyone, particularly with the girls, who regarded it as an unseemly proceeding. Once I came in when Fatima was taking part in one of these dances and saw her genuinely and deeply abashed.
On my first visit I told Fatima that I had a wife and six children in England; this greatly enhanced my importance in her eyes and she always asked after them.
“You have had a letter from England? The little ones are well?”
“They are very well.”
“And your father and mother?”
“They, too.”
We sat in a tiled hall, two steps below street level, drinking our mint tea—or, rather, Fatima drank hers while I let mine cool in the glass. It was a noisome beverage.
“Whiskey-soda lent me some cigarettes yesterday. Will you give her them?”
I ordered a packet from the bar.
“Yesterday I had a stomach-ache and stayed in my room. That is why
made to line up and give a modest performance of shuffling and hand clapping which was called a native dance. Women tourists particularly seemed to like these expeditions and paid heavily for them—a hundred francs or more. But they were unpopular with everyone, particularly with the girls, who regarded it as an unseemly proceeding. Once I came in when Fatima was taking part in one of these dances and saw her genuinely and deeply abashed.
On my first visit I told Fatima that I had a wife and six children in England; this greatly enhanced my importance in her eyes and she always asked after them.
“You have had a letter from England? The little ones are well?”
“They are very well.”
“And your father and mother?”
“They, too.”
We sat in a tiled hall, two steps below street level, drinking our mint tea—or, rather, Fatima drank hers while I let mine cool in the glass. It was a noisome beverage.
“Whiskey-soda lent me some cigarettes yesterday. Will you give her them?”
I ordered a packet from the bar.
“Yesterday I had a stomach-ache and stayed in my room. That is why
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Claude Monet Water Lilies 1914 painting
Claude Monet Water Lilies 1914 paintingUnknown Artist Heighton After Hours paintingUnknown Artist Brent Lynch Evening Lounge painting
terrace and gazing out apathetically across the familiar landscape.
“Why can’t you find something to do?” she would complain. “There are always things to do about a house. Heaven knows I never have a moment.” And when, one afternoon, he was asked out by some neighbours and returned too late to dress for dinner, she said, “Really, Tom, I should have thought that you had time for that.”
“It is a very serious thing,” she remarked on another occasion, “for a young man of your age to get out of the habit of work. It saps his whole morale.”
Accordingly she fell back upon the ancient country house expedient of Cataloguing the Library. This consisted of an extensive and dusty collection of books amassed by succeeding generations of a family at no time notable for their patronage of literature; it had been catalogued before, in the middle of the nineteenth century, in the spidery, spinsterish hand of a relative in reduced circumstances; since then the additions and disturbances had been negligible, but Mrs. Kent-Cumberland purchased a fumed oak cabinet and several boxes of cards and instructed Tom how she wanted the shelves renumbered and the
terrace and gazing out apathetically across the familiar landscape.
“Why can’t you find something to do?” she would complain. “There are always things to do about a house. Heaven knows I never have a moment.” And when, one afternoon, he was asked out by some neighbours and returned too late to dress for dinner, she said, “Really, Tom, I should have thought that you had time for that.”
“It is a very serious thing,” she remarked on another occasion, “for a young man of your age to get out of the habit of work. It saps his whole morale.”
Accordingly she fell back upon the ancient country house expedient of Cataloguing the Library. This consisted of an extensive and dusty collection of books amassed by succeeding generations of a family at no time notable for their patronage of literature; it had been catalogued before, in the middle of the nineteenth century, in the spidery, spinsterish hand of a relative in reduced circumstances; since then the additions and disturbances had been negligible, but Mrs. Kent-Cumberland purchased a fumed oak cabinet and several boxes of cards and instructed Tom how she wanted the shelves renumbered and the
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thomas Gainsborough The Blue Boy painting
Thomas Gainsborough The Blue Boy paintingEdvard Munch The Scream paintingGustav Klimt Mother and Child detail from The Three Ages of Woman painting
commander among the Negroes issuing orders in a quiet supercilious voice. The Londoners brought out sacks from their huts and spread on the beach the things they had recovered from the ruins by digging—pieces of machinery and ornament, china and glass and carved stonework, jewellery and purposeless bits of things they hoped might have value. The blacks landed bales of thick cloth, utensils, fish-hooks, knife-blades and axe-heads; discussion and barter followed, after which the finds from the diggings were bundled up into the launch. Rip was led forward and presented, turned round and inspected; then he too was put in the launch.
A phantasmagoric journey downstream; Rip seated on the cargo; the commander puffing imperturbably at a cigar. Now and then they stopped at other villages, smaller than London, but built on the same plan. Here curious Englishmen crowded the banks and paddled in to
commander among the Negroes issuing orders in a quiet supercilious voice. The Londoners brought out sacks from their huts and spread on the beach the things they had recovered from the ruins by digging—pieces of machinery and ornament, china and glass and carved stonework, jewellery and purposeless bits of things they hoped might have value. The blacks landed bales of thick cloth, utensils, fish-hooks, knife-blades and axe-heads; discussion and barter followed, after which the finds from the diggings were bundled up into the launch. Rip was led forward and presented, turned round and inspected; then he too was put in the launch.
A phantasmagoric journey downstream; Rip seated on the cargo; the commander puffing imperturbably at a cigar. Now and then they stopped at other villages, smaller than London, but built on the same plan. Here curious Englishmen crowded the banks and paddled in to
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Sandro Botticelli Madonna and Child painting
Sandro Botticelli Madonna and Child paintingSandro Botticelli La Primavera paintingSalvador Dali meditative rose painting
How are you? Fine to see you back. Just had the pleasure of seeing your daughter at the tennis club. My missus wondered if you and she would care to come up and dine one evening. How about Thursday? Grand. She’ll be delighted. Good-night you fellows. Got to get a shower.”
The occurrence was sensational. Bretherton and Reppington looked at one another in shocked surprise.
Major Lepperidge, both in rank and personality, was the leading man in Matodi—in the whole of Azania indeed, with the single exception of the Chief Commissioner at Debra Dowa. It was inconceivable that Brooks should dine with Lepperidge. Bretherton himself had only dined there once and he was Government.
“Hullo, Brooks,” said Reppington “Didn’t see you there behind your paper. Come and have one.”
“Yes, Brooks,” said Bretherton. “Didn’t know you were back. Have a jolly leave? See any shows?”
How are you? Fine to see you back. Just had the pleasure of seeing your daughter at the tennis club. My missus wondered if you and she would care to come up and dine one evening. How about Thursday? Grand. She’ll be delighted. Good-night you fellows. Got to get a shower.”
The occurrence was sensational. Bretherton and Reppington looked at one another in shocked surprise.
Major Lepperidge, both in rank and personality, was the leading man in Matodi—in the whole of Azania indeed, with the single exception of the Chief Commissioner at Debra Dowa. It was inconceivable that Brooks should dine with Lepperidge. Bretherton himself had only dined there once and he was Government.
“Hullo, Brooks,” said Reppington “Didn’t see you there behind your paper. Come and have one.”
“Yes, Brooks,” said Bretherton. “Didn’t know you were back. Have a jolly leave? See any shows?”
Thomas Kinkade A Peaceful Retreat painting
Thomas Kinkade A Peaceful Retreat paintingJohn Collier Lady Godiva paintingCaravaggio Supper at Emmaus painting
Conference Room.”
“Come on, quick,” said Miss Grits. She bustled him through the swing doors, across the yard, into the office buildings and up a flight of stairs to a solid oak door marked Conference. Keep out.
Too late. house. Men in eye-shades scuttled in and out. Notices stood everywhere. Do not Smoke. Do not Speak. Keep away from the high-power cable.
Miss Grits, in defiance of these regulations, lit a cigarette, kicked some electric apparatus out of her path, said, “He’s busy. I expect he’ll see us when he’s through with this scene,” and disappeared through a door marked No admittance.
Shortly after eleven o’clock
“Sir James has been called away,” said the secretary. “Will you meet him at the West End office at five-thirty.”
Back to London, this time by
Conference Room.”
“Come on, quick,” said Miss Grits. She bustled him through the swing doors, across the yard, into the office buildings and up a flight of stairs to a solid oak door marked Conference. Keep out.
Too late. house. Men in eye-shades scuttled in and out. Notices stood everywhere. Do not Smoke. Do not Speak. Keep away from the high-power cable.
Miss Grits, in defiance of these regulations, lit a cigarette, kicked some electric apparatus out of her path, said, “He’s busy. I expect he’ll see us when he’s through with this scene,” and disappeared through a door marked No admittance.
Shortly after eleven o’clock
“Sir James has been called away,” said the secretary. “Will you meet him at the West End office at five-thirty.”
Back to London, this time by
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Pierre-Auguste Cot spring painting
Pierre-Auguste Cot spring paintingWilliam Bouguereau the first kiss paintingClaude Monet Water Lily Pond painting
Tutees and readied Himself to teach all studentdom the Answer? "Not teachable" indeed! And the unpardonable rejection of Greene, of Anastasia, of His own son, in favor of a sickly mulatto boy with the improbable name ofTombo - - The type of the typescript pages of the document entitled "Postscript to the Posttape" is not the same as that of the "Cover-Letter to the Editors and Publisher."Founder's Hill. It was his cancer killed him -- but alas, not directly. Persuaded, in his clear delirium, that he had achieved not only fatherhood but total illumination, his old sympathy with Gynander became obsessive: blind already, he saw his generative organs as all that stood, as it were, between him and proph-profhood, removed them in the nurse's absence with
But no, the idea is ridiculous. Some impostor and antigiles composed the "Posttape," to gainsay and weaken faith in Giles's Way. Even the type of those flunkèd pages is different!
Tutees and readied Himself to teach all studentdom the Answer? "Not teachable" indeed! And the unpardonable rejection of Greene, of Anastasia, of His own son, in favor of a sickly mulatto boy with the improbable name ofTombo - - The type of the typescript pages of the document entitled "Postscript to the Posttape" is not the same as that of the "Cover-Letter to the Editors and Publisher."Founder's Hill. It was his cancer killed him -- but alas, not directly. Persuaded, in his clear delirium, that he had achieved not only fatherhood but total illumination, his old sympathy with Gynander became obsessive: blind already, he saw his generative organs as all that stood, as it were, between him and proph-profhood, removed them in the nurse's absence with
But no, the idea is ridiculous. Some impostor and antigiles composed the "Posttape," to gainsay and weaken faith in Giles's Way. Even the type of those flunkèd pages is different!
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Edmund Blair Leighton Lady in a Garden painting
Edmund Blair Leighton Lady in a Garden paintingEdmund Blair Leighton Stitching the Standard paintingPaul McCormack The Symbol of Man painting
anyhow: it was Bray I wanted; no, not even Bray: WESCAC. No, not even WESCAC: death. So far had my spirits, unaccountably, plunged! To Re-place the Founder's Scroll, to Pass the Finals, to do single combat with WESCAC and what it represented -- it was of no importance, I could not even think, my mind was on My obscure Ladyship. I had come from Infirmary to Library out of habit, like Mother, following the order of my spring-term Tutorship. Humming, she fetched from her knitting-bag a key -- someone must have forgot to collect it from her -- and unlocked the door. The faulty console in the corner began winking, as if roused from sleep.
"Would you care for something to read?" Mother asked automatically.
"No -- no thank you, ma'am."
She ignored the new nameplate on her desk and eased herself into the swivel-chair as though ready for work, though the office lights were out and she still had her coat on. "Well, you look around and let me know if you want anything, sonny. There's nothing like a good book."
My heart lifted not a little; I kissed her hair. Again, from her innocent darkness, she had illumined me!
anyhow: it was Bray I wanted; no, not even Bray: WESCAC. No, not even WESCAC: death. So far had my spirits, unaccountably, plunged! To Re-place the Founder's Scroll, to Pass the Finals, to do single combat with WESCAC and what it represented -- it was of no importance, I could not even think, my mind was on My obscure Ladyship. I had come from Infirmary to Library out of habit, like Mother, following the order of my spring-term Tutorship. Humming, she fetched from her knitting-bag a key -- someone must have forgot to collect it from her -- and unlocked the door. The faulty console in the corner began winking, as if roused from sleep.
"Would you care for something to read?" Mother asked automatically.
"No -- no thank you, ma'am."
She ignored the new nameplate on her desk and eased herself into the swivel-chair as though ready for work, though the office lights were out and she still had her coat on. "Well, you look around and let me know if you want anything, sonny. There's nothing like a good book."
My heart lifted not a little; I kissed her hair. Again, from her innocent darkness, she had illumined me!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
John Collier Lilith
John Collier LilithIn the Venusberg TannhauserThe Entombment of Christ
George. Finish up inventory; try and set things right with Sally Ann. . ."
"Do you really think your be saved?"
He set his chin, and would I think have blinked had his eyes been unbound. "Prob'ly not. But what the heck anyhow, George! I'm going to start from scratch, what I meanunderstanding-wise. Things look different to a fellow's been through what I been through. I got a long ways to go."
"Pass you!" I declared.
"Into first grade,"he added wryly. "I might Graduate yet, one of these days. But the odds ain't much."
"They never are! Look for me at Founder's Hill tomorrow."
He now wept freely, and his wounded eye bled a little onto his cheeks. He supposed with a laugh that he'd have no more hallucinations, at least, and wondered aloud whether a mixture of blood and tears might be good for acne. "Come on," he said then to Leonid; "I'll show you the way to the Pedal Inn."
"Nyet,friend; I know the way. I showyou."
George. Finish up inventory; try and set things right with Sally Ann. . ."
"Do you really think your be saved?"
He set his chin, and would I think have blinked had his eyes been unbound. "Prob'ly not. But what the heck anyhow, George! I'm going to start from scratch, what I meanunderstanding-wise. Things look different to a fellow's been through what I been through. I got a long ways to go."
"Pass you!" I declared.
"Into first grade,"he added wryly. "I might Graduate yet, one of these days. But the odds ain't much."
"They never are! Look for me at Founder's Hill tomorrow."
He now wept freely, and his wounded eye bled a little onto his cheeks. He supposed with a laugh that he'd have no more hallucinations, at least, and wondered aloud whether a mixture of blood and tears might be good for acne. "Come on," he said then to Leonid; "I'll show you the way to the Pedal Inn."
"Nyet,friend; I know the way. I showyou."
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Jean-Paul Laurens paintings
Jean-Paul Laurens paintings
Jules Breton paintings
Johannes Vermeer paintings
"That's just more smut, Dr. Sear!" Greene was declaring. "You know durn well I'm not any sawbones, say what you want, nor a headshrinker either -- excuse the expression! I'm a simple country George told you, Stacey'!" I was also sharply interested in observing through the glass what appeared to be a new development in the strange relation between Greene and Sear.
"Ithought he wanted to apologize for last spring," Anastasia said. "In fact, I was going to offer to explain the whole thing to his wife, in case she thought it washis fault, what he'd done to me. But when he started in on this
In the Treatment Room, as she spoke, Greene had been inveighing against the decline of moral standards in "the present modern campus of today" and recommending that the dunce-cap and birch-rod be restored to their place of honor in New Tammany kindergartens; Sear interrupted
Jules Breton paintings
Johannes Vermeer paintings
"That's just more smut, Dr. Sear!" Greene was declaring. "You know durn well I'm not any sawbones, say what you want, nor a headshrinker either -- excuse the expression! I'm a simple country George told you, Stacey'!" I was also sharply interested in observing through the glass what appeared to be a new development in the strange relation between Greene and Sear.
"Ithought he wanted to apologize for last spring," Anastasia said. "In fact, I was going to offer to explain the whole thing to his wife, in case she thought it washis fault, what he'd done to me. But when he started in on this
In the Treatment Room, as she spoke, Greene had been inveighing against the decline of moral standards in "the present modern campus of today" and recommending that the dunce-cap and birch-rod be restored to their place of honor in New Tammany kindergartens; Sear interrupted
Monday, September 8, 2008
Howard Behrens paintings
Howard Behrens paintings
Henri Fantin-Latour paintings
Horace Vernet paintings
wise guy," one of them said.
"I don't know, Bill," said the other.
"George Giles the Goat-Boy," I announced, rising proudly to shake hands.
They exchanged glances. "Come off it, pal," Bill said. "Let's see your matric card."
Pleased at the chance to demonstrate my point, I displayed the blank ID-card with a smile. "What difference does a name make, classmates? Iam, that's all."
"What'd I tell you," his colleague said to him. Bill grunted.
I was surprised and pleased. "You've thought of it before? That none of us really has a name?"
"Some stinks worse'n others, though," Bill said. The two each took an elbow, and they led me inside. When I understood that the jacket they called for was for me, and strait, I protested I'd only come to visit Dr. Sear. Bill acknowledged again, grudgingly, that his companion's guess had been correct. "I knew he treated lots of them animal ones," he said in his own defense. "But I thought that there goat one was in Main Detention."
"Heis," the other said, and explained patiently; "what there is, though, Bill, there's somethinks they're the ones that thinks they're animals! It's in their heads
Henri Fantin-Latour paintings
Horace Vernet paintings
wise guy," one of them said.
"I don't know, Bill," said the other.
"George Giles the Goat-Boy," I announced, rising proudly to shake hands.
They exchanged glances. "Come off it, pal," Bill said. "Let's see your matric card."
Pleased at the chance to demonstrate my point, I displayed the blank ID-card with a smile. "What difference does a name make, classmates? Iam, that's all."
"What'd I tell you," his colleague said to him. Bill grunted.
I was surprised and pleased. "You've thought of it before? That none of us really has a name?"
"Some stinks worse'n others, though," Bill said. The two each took an elbow, and they led me inside. When I understood that the jacket they called for was for me, and strait, I protested I'd only come to visit Dr. Sear. Bill acknowledged again, grudgingly, that his companion's guess had been correct. "I knew he treated lots of them animal ones," he said in his own defense. "But I thought that there goat one was in Main Detention."
"Heis," the other said, and explained patiently; "what there is, though, Bill, there's somethinks they're the ones that thinks they're animals! It's in their heads
Friday, September 5, 2008
Francisco de Zurbaran paintings
Francisco de Zurbaran paintings
Guan zeju paintings
Gustav Klimt paintings
was a story in it about one of the Amaterasus that survived, and everybody thought he was well, till one day he runs wild on his motorbike and kills four little schoolgirls. And the kids themselves, that was born from the survivors: two percent are idiots; one out of three is retarded, and they all got things like enuresis and nightmares. How many generations it will go on, nobody knows." He struck his forehead with his fist. "That's what it means to be EATen, Billy! The goats, now: they'll eat almost anything you feed them; but only us humans is smart enough to EAT one another!"
Full of wonder, I shook my head. The idea of madness was not easy for me to appreciate: I had for examples only the booksweep himself and the character of Carpo the Fool fromTales of the Trustees, both of whom appeared more formidable than pathetic. I asked whether George the book-sweep had been among the victims of this first attack. My motive was not primarily to learn more about the terrors of WESCAC, but if possible to lead Max discreetly towards the matter he'd first essayed; and I was so far successful, that he left off fisting his brow and wound up his history:
"Yes, well, it wasn't the Riot George was hurt in, but the
Guan zeju paintings
Gustav Klimt paintings
was a story in it about one of the Amaterasus that survived, and everybody thought he was well, till one day he runs wild on his motorbike and kills four little schoolgirls. And the kids themselves, that was born from the survivors: two percent are idiots; one out of three is retarded, and they all got things like enuresis and nightmares. How many generations it will go on, nobody knows." He struck his forehead with his fist. "That's what it means to be EATen, Billy! The goats, now: they'll eat almost anything you feed them; but only us humans is smart enough to EAT one another!"
Full of wonder, I shook my head. The idea of madness was not easy for me to appreciate: I had for examples only the booksweep himself and the character of Carpo the Fool fromTales of the Trustees, both of whom appeared more formidable than pathetic. I asked whether George the book-sweep had been among the victims of this first attack. My motive was not primarily to learn more about the terrors of WESCAC, but if possible to lead Max discreetly towards the matter he'd first essayed; and I was so far successful, that he left off fisting his brow and wound up his history:
"Yes, well, it wasn't the Riot George was hurt in, but the
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The Umbrellas
The UmbrellasSleeping GirlDance at Bougival I
ordering Stoker to bring Leonid to the prison infirmary while she prepared an emetic and summoned a physician. I was told to stay with "Mother" (as Anastasia still called Lady Creamhair, out of habit) and reluctantly consented: someone had to be with her, her mind had failed so, and Anastasia was grown very cross indeed when opposed, especially by a male. Besides which, I was the only one of us not necessary to Leonid's rescue -- a sore consideration, as I had got him into his bind and felt on the verge now of understanding how he might be set free of it. Off went the pair of them on their errands, Anastasia scolding her husband out of earshot. The barred partitions of the Visitation Room were left open; I might have exited from Main Detention even without that gift of Leonid's which momentarily I'd seemed to possess, or Bray's proffered amnesty. But though my new clarity persisted, like a light in an empty room where something is about to appear, and my intellectual coma happily showed no signs of returning, I did not leave, not just then, but sighed and turned to Mother, whom I knew I would find watching me with reverent joy. Cross-legged
ordering Stoker to bring Leonid to the prison infirmary while she prepared an emetic and summoned a physician. I was told to stay with "Mother" (as Anastasia still called Lady Creamhair, out of habit) and reluctantly consented: someone had to be with her, her mind had failed so, and Anastasia was grown very cross indeed when opposed, especially by a male. Besides which, I was the only one of us not necessary to Leonid's rescue -- a sore consideration, as I had got him into his bind and felt on the verge now of understanding how he might be set free of it. Off went the pair of them on their errands, Anastasia scolding her husband out of earshot. The barred partitions of the Visitation Room were left open; I might have exited from Main Detention even without that gift of Leonid's which momentarily I'd seemed to possess, or Bray's proffered amnesty. But though my new clarity persisted, like a light in an empty room where something is about to appear, and my intellectual coma happily showed no signs of returning, I did not leave, not just then, but sighed and turned to Mother, whom I knew I would find watching me with reverent joy. Cross-legged
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Frederic Edwin Church Sunset painting
Frederic Edwin Church Sunset paintingTitian The Fall of Man paintingJohn William Godward Nu Sur La Plage painting
found it, nor can the while he seeks, three instant and simultaneous counter-considerations overbalanced that one: first, it appeared that the Finals were designed for a series of affirmative responses -- and aptly, for what could be more affirmative than Commencement? Second (and thus), those same aforementioned esoterics held that he is passed who knows himself passed, and so myyes was in fact a declaration of achievement more than an acknowledgment of desire. Finally, alerted by the curious sense of the preliminary question (whose function, I saw now, was just that alerting), I was not blind to the double meaning of this last one; and comfortable as the Belly oddly was, I did indeed wish to pass now through its exit and calm the anxious student body.
Lo, as if to confirm that third significance, when I pressedyes the bar disappeared, a new rumbling commenced round about, and the floor-walls seemed to pulse in slow waves towards the far end of the chamber. I saw a flicker there, heard a cry of many voices, and understood that the exit-port must be enlarging in the manner of the entry. I scrambled for it on hands and knees, assisted by the undulations; the crowd had seen the portal opening and pressed now nearer with flaming torches, by whose light I saw rise up before
found it, nor can the while he seeks, three instant and simultaneous counter-considerations overbalanced that one: first, it appeared that the Finals were designed for a series of affirmative responses -- and aptly, for what could be more affirmative than Commencement? Second (and thus), those same aforementioned esoterics held that he is passed who knows himself passed, and so myyes was in fact a declaration of achievement more than an acknowledgment of desire. Finally, alerted by the curious sense of the preliminary question (whose function, I saw now, was just that alerting), I was not blind to the double meaning of this last one; and comfortable as the Belly oddly was, I did indeed wish to pass now through its exit and calm the anxious student body.
Lo, as if to confirm that third significance, when I pressedyes the bar disappeared, a new rumbling commenced round about, and the floor-walls seemed to pulse in slow waves towards the far end of the chamber. I saw a flicker there, heard a cry of many voices, and understood that the exit-port must be enlarging in the manner of the entry. I scrambled for it on hands and knees, assisted by the undulations; the crowd had seen the portal opening and pressed now nearer with flaming torches, by whose light I saw rise up before
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