Wednesday, December 17, 2014

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Time
Posted by Bling King

Time is the tell tale physics model that allows the distance between to linear points. To tell time is there and does infact exist you must witness the distance between any two points change.If anything changes then time has been a factor. To change time without the physical world is impossible because if nothing changes time can not exist. If I changed time to a quicker pace the physical world would not allow it because time set on a scale like ours is already based on the amount the physical world can react. It is a concrete absolute fundamental that can not vary.If you traveled at the speed of light everything around you would slow cause you are moving at a constant pace with time. Therefore it would seem that less time would pass in actuality you have kept pace with time so everything around you has slowed where as you have actually sped up. The cause of time is based on the fact that to allow something to coexist their has to be some kind of reaction. Therefore time is an absolute must and must exist in every realm throughout the universe. Time and gravity relate by gravity allowing time to basically set its fundamental properties. Everything within gravity works at a certain time within a certain time.
To travel at the speed of light one must become a particle at which one could travel at such a speed. Traveling at the speed of light...Read More
The unexpected
Posted by Bling King


How many people did you expect to expect the unexpected when the unexpected was what was actually what to expect. If you had expected the unexpected you still wouldn't have ever known what was to come because the unexpected was so unexpected you couldn't have ever expected it.
The new world order
Posted by Bling King
 
 
There will be a manifestation of the realm in which we live when the world will become a more positive place to reside. When the world does manifest itself people will look to the person in charge and wonder why he has come into power. There will be only one explanation. There was a ruler of facets whom could look to the universe and see the realm for what it was. A place of deliberate decadence that was brought forth by a being of superior intelligence. In order for that realm to have a continual renewal of corvoidance in which it can be controlled there has to be an element of manipulation. This element can bring about the most evolutionary facets of distinguishable difference from even the norm in which we live. Once the element has been completely manipulated to bring forth a new provision, then the world in which we know will alter to the point of preponderance of persuasion of the person who has set forth the dialogue of distinguishable differences, that will evidently make the mark of the seclusion, from which we all have come to now as the normal normality, we have come to expect. Once this happens we will all see the governance of governance under his control. This is to be a new proponent that will be welcome by some and resented by others. Those who resent this have their reasons as do those who look to the changes...Read More
You can't change the daliptatude of time
Posted by Bling King
 
 
Don't expect the delay of the inevitable to be benounced for certain things can and can't happen. One of the things that can't happen is a positive prospective to come to fruitation with out a guide in which it is to be. You can change the world with a few different dilapatatudes but there is always going to be those certainties which you can't change. Time is one of those.
The vector of the realm of reality
Posted by Bling King

 

 

I don't expect to expect the realm of reality is a realm of reality. There has to be something binding everything that's everything together. I expect that to be a plausible contemplation of something that I could never contemplate due to the fact that is beyond my aptitude to comprehend. I do have an understanding to be certain that is a compilation of the way in which the world in which we live tends to work and with this understanding I can understand the the vector of the summarization of this realm is something like a computer simulation that can or can't be manipulated to a degree of certainty that can only be progressed over time with a correspondence of the factor in which time resides.

Waitng for thee inevatable
Posted by Bling King


Today was a day that started off on accord of all the rest. I woke up in turmoil and expected a vector of completion but I found myself right where I was, waiting for something to come to fruitation. Eventually everything has to come to be the way it was planned. If things do perfectly perplex to the status of completion then all will manifest to my liking.
Thee answers
Posted by Bling King


If you sequester the amount of people who would look to other people for the answer you would understand that there is a single person who would never look to others for the answer to anything. He would look to himself for all the answers to all of everything he wants to know. If you see this person then you will know this person is a person of power and complete control.
Element of completion
Posted by Bling King


Anything that can happen happens because an element of completion that has taken place to bring about the elements complete corvoidance with the realm it resides. Once the fraction of completion is brought into existence and placed in the proper place the fraction brings about the life of something that has to come into effect that will bring in a corvoidance with the realm of all that has happene d including the effect in which all is real and has come to be. Once the fraction joins the other fractions you have a completion and that completion is the effect of fraction of factions coming into place. Those factions are the world in which we see and the events that take place. In order for us to manipulate those factions we have to either add something or take something away. The same thing that has to occur for any change to take place any where in the universe. If the change that takes place is favorable for you to accept then you may want to leave that faction the way it is. If the change is unfavorable you may want to add something or take something away.
War
Posted by Bling King


War is a dependence fortitude of the political whim of those in need of a restructring of the realm in which they reside. If they feel they have gone far enough down the road of contenation that they have no other oppurtunity other than to fight then war is a neccessary mandate. If you decide to go through war and battle the enemy then you need to have a reasonable out come of sucess in mind. Your gains should be great and your casualties manageable. If you feel you can't manage the casualties of your withstanding then you should reconsider this possibile scenario but in a war fought on the gounds of desperation their can be no loss considered to great to withstand.
To war
Posted by Bling King


To war is a clamity but to bring it is to seek a contendation that wouldn't ever suffice unless there was an outcome of fortitude. If the outcome is less than gratifying which it usually is then the war itself had no positive survitude unless graciously determined the outcome of the winner that all is to prosper in prosperity of abundance that wouldn't ever  upset either winners nor losers. That is why all wars are fought to the death or the unconditional surrender of at least one of the participating parties. There will be no conclusion of surrender unless there is a complete abidence of the winners terms. If you wish to war with people you have to understand that this is the outcome that will most likely occur. When I war with an opponant I don't have to kill you as much as I have to persuade you to give up your fight and let myself make the commandments of which to honor. If those commandments aren't honered then we will continue to battle until you have either taken my commandments as law or you are to kill me. I myself won't ever surrender due to the fact to follow the laws of others only brings me to a place of condemnation and immotional turmoil that I myself can't stand to bear. Those that say this is pig headed or stubborn have only to understand that if you give in to the terms of...Read More
To resign
Posted by Bling King
The place is a place of resignation when all sides resigned to become a place of alternative forebearance. This is the place we need to be. No more fighting no more quarling over who's in charge. There has to be one supreme ruler. For this to happen there has to be one person who can steer the others in a single direction.
Times at a stand still
Posted by Bling King
There won't be a moment that I can recall that will bring this period of anxiety to a final end. The truth is that the further along I go the longer it seems I have to wait. Eventually I know it's coming but time is completely at a stand still.
The World Ruler
Posted by Bling King


They will wonder who I am longer after I'm gone but the legend will live on. They will speak of me and ask the person was this person. For he is the person who was the person who was the person. Long live the legend. Long live the forever tale of the one peron who would conquer all and be the one undisputed ruler in all of history. The story will live forever but the man could only live his life as short as that was he definately made his mark. Threaten him if you wish for all will come to know him as their ruler. For the good and the bad their is nobody who could tell him how to live. His life was completely his own to do entirly as he wished. Lets hope he makes some good decisions.
The story Jesus and Judah
Posted by Bling King


If you want to understand the true meaning of life you have to look to the story of Judah and Jesus. Judah was a baptist and Jesus was a jew. Jesus looked at Judah and said how about you baptise me. Judah looked at Jesus and said "for what reason?" Jesus replied back "So I can understand you and your customs." Judah baptised Jesus and said "you are now one of us." Jesus said "thank you Judah but you have always been one of my people and always will be." Judah replied "but I'm not a jew" and Jesus replied "you be anybody you wish to be, Judah and remain in the house of the Lord for all your days". and so he did with his people and their people and all people who would do Gods will. Judah wa suprised at Jesus when Jesus said this and he said "why would you want me" and Jesus said "because a friend of my fathers is a friend of mine" and Judah said "but I don't know your Father" and Jesus said "of course you do" and Judah said "but I have never met him and Jesus said you have Judah you just don't remember". "Where can I find him?" asked Judah and Jesus said "he is among us" and Judah looked around and said "which one? and Jesus replied "well all of them for they where all created in the image of my father." "In...Read More
The rulers of the world
Posted by Bling King
I don't claim to be the irredescent immaculation of the person bonafide to lead the world but I know I can do better than the current regimes. They have done a very poor job at solving the problems of the people. They seemed to be more worried about protecting their own power from diminishing than they do about empowering the people. Don't trust them for if they ever speak it is to condemn the opposition and to try to explain their own motives for their own benefit.




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Compass
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Today I lost my way then found it again. Finding you way can be easy or it can be hard depending on how lost you are. If very lost it helps to use a compass to guide you. A compass always points north. If your compass doesn't face north get a new compass.
Coming To The End
Category: Funny
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This is the end of the beginning. When the beginning ends you know its time to get moving. Your in the middle and the middle is where everything happens. Then after the middle comes the end. The end is the winding down. When you get to the end you will wish you where at the beginning or the middle any where but the end. The end is slow. A lot slower than the middle or end. You may find yourself wondering how the end got here so fast and now its going so slow. Once its over you will find yourself wishing you where still at the end. Not the end end though where you are the beginning of the end where you where before.
Close Minded
Category: Funny
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People stay open hoping ya know that eventually that openess will help them all grow. Thats where I come in I'm so fucking closed and I don't wanna grow. Growing is slow believe me I know. I'd rather just be my close minded self.
Classical Music
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I love going to the beach and cranking classical music. Gives teenagers more culture. The shit gives me a headache. One wise ass punk said "hey man wanna turn that shit off" I told him "shut the hell up your being cultured" I bet his parents just never taught him any respect.
Class
Category: Funny
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This is a class on Gazooky. If you already know about Gazooky then you know this class is the number one class in the country. Anybody who wants to register for this class must somehow make me laugh. You must be hysterically funny as I don't laugh easy. Anybody that makes me laugh will be registered with a free pass to the class. In the class we will be chewing gum with a lot of talking. You will learn how to keep the gum from falling out of your mouth. Anybody who is an expert at talking while chewing is invited to become an instructor and congratulations on mastering the first half of Gazooky!
Changing The Future With The Present
Category: Funny
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I look to the future and I come to the past. The past that dictates everything that happens in the future and can never be changed. Therefor one can only change the future in the present.
Win A Cell Phone.
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If you call this phone and it rings the phone is yours. The number starts with 508-943 and you have to guess the other numbers. The phone is a brand new Blackberry. Anybody who cheats and knows who this is are not going to get the phone. Ready set start dialing!
Computer Problems
Category: Funny
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Got a mushed computer. Its all mashed up. If you know how to fix a computer that's been mashed and mushed please email me. Sorry I can't give more details but I'm using the mashed mushed computer to post this and its tough. If you have ever typed on a mashed mushed computer you know what I'm talking about. If not just picture mashed and mooshed potatoes all over the place there man. That is what this computer is. Anyway I can pay but not a lot I own a parking meter that doesn't pay that much. So pay is likely to be in change. Mostly quarters, dimes and nickels no pennies.
Your moving slow
Category: Funny
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People often call upon me to ask "why the heck does life move so fast?" So I answer "is life moving fast or are you going slow get out of your rocking chair. Come on baby Lets go!!!"
Whistling
Category: Funny
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When I'm feeling down I like to whistle. Real loud and real quite too. So quite I can't hear myself and so loud everybody can hear me. If you hear me whistling you will know I'm depressed and upset. Don't try to cheer me up it won't work. When I'm whistling the outside world doesn't appeal to me I'm to involved in whistling to care. I can get so absorbed in whistling its like the whistle is absorbed through parts of my body and I start to move along with the tune. A lot of times I find my self dancing while I whistle. If you like to dance come by while I'm whistling I'll blow you a tune you can dance too. If you think you whistle good I'll out whistle ya. Positive of it.
Whats Funny Poem
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 The thing about funny yes funny its true is nothing is really funny about funny you fools. Funny is not funny unless i say its so and in my world of funny anything goes. Heres funny yes funny its true i'm not funny im a serious dude.
    Heres the thing about stupid stupids not funny unless im being stupid then its hilarious dummies. Heres stupid yes stupid its true. Nobody around here is stupid you fools. Stupids not funny thats why no one around here is stupid you dummies.
    Im hilarious though but hilarious doesn't mean funny at all. Whats the diffrence between hilirious and funny? Heres the definition and Im not bull but hilarious means funnier than funny though so.
    If you where curious what would you do? Would you ask questions like whats funny you fool? whats curious and is curious funny? Im all confused about these words are you you dam dummy? Cause if i wanna know do you wanna know too? How come where not curious about the same things dude? Are we all diffrent is that the reason or are these all words with individual meanings?
    Heres the problem with funny and its not slow nobody can figure funny out and its not bull. So if you think your real quick and very unslow what the hells funny cause wed all love to know?
The one
Category: Funny
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There comes a time in one's life when one must say to one "one you've done all you can do the rests up to you" Nows one of those times. Man the pressure is on but I'm stepping up to the plate I'm gonna hit it out of the park. Bet your wondering what I'm referring to. I'm referring to this blog post. How did I do?
The Ideal Date
Category: Funny
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The date shouldn't be taken for granted. People who go on dates just for something to do are dumb. If your looking for something to do go to the movies with somebody you like not somebody you don't even know. To me a date should be more like an interview. Your not gonna get a chance to interview somebody in the middle of a movie. People who bring their date to the movies, loud clubs or loud concerts have something to hide. If your looking to hide stay home.
Me I like to take my date to a shrink and let the shrink tell us if we are compatible. I mean a shrink ought to know. Its his job and field of study. Not only that if the shrink says we are compatible after the interrogation and it doesn't work out in six months to a year at least we will have somebody to blame besides ourselves. If your down with this then lets say me you and a shrink Saturday night?
The Cool of Me
Category: Funny
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I walk through the hills to the place that I know I got thier and realized I'm very unslow. Why the fucks that? Just imagine the truth me sitting their imagining dude. I imagine myself being all cool and thinking I'm the coolest already you fool. You know somebody cooler? Man not really man no and thats when realized I was very unslow.
About My Blogging
Category: Funny
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Man some people think I'm Super Man. They expect me to leap tall buildings and all that jazz. Sorry its me no super powers and at best average athletic skills. Man you better call somebody else. I know you needed me today but i am not gonna make a fool of myself trying to win this thing. I know people have told you I'm good and I am but not that good. Yes I'm afraid to say I do not live up to the hype. Sorry but its a disappointment even I have to live with.
 
My Popularity
Category: Funny
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Damn am I popular. You wouldn't think so but you'd be wrong I'm the most popular guy I know. If you count chickens you would be a chicken counter. If your popular you would be as cool as me . Anyway why am I so popular? hmmmmmmmmmmmmm....Must be the coolness of me. I mean seriously people love me. Come on you know you do. I'm hear for a reason,I am. and thats to be the most popular man. The whole reason for my being is being popular.I wasn't this popular in high school but hell high school sucked to much homework. To many other popular people. I hate competition. Now all I gotta do is compete with my wife and I'm winning! I'm winning.
My Funeral
Category: Funny
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About the hearse. I wanna pick out my hearse so everybody knows and also pick out my clothes. So everybody knows what I'll be driving in and what I'll be wearing. This may not seem important to you but I wanna know I'm gonna look good and be traveling in style. When you do go you only go once and for me once probably just isn't enough. You wanna be banging on that special day so bangingingly banged out peolple say "hey!". Is he dead or still happening man. Even when dead I'll have lots of fans. Come to my funeral if you want to see the most hipping'est, tripping'est, happening'est me.
Moneky Nuts
Category: Funny
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There once was a monkey. Well hell there was alot of monkies. All named monkey. not sure who the hell named them but it was somebody so I called them monkey as well. Anyway these monkys they where playing around and swinging from trees and monkey said to monkey. "Hey Monkey can you swing like these" he said pointing to the other ones nuts so that monkey shook his nuts too. While both monkeys where swinging there nuts a third monkey came and said you two stop with the nuts. Neither stopped. So the third monkey grabbed the two nuts and squeezed. Both monkies screamed and it was completely nuts.
Miscellenious
Category: Funny
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The point of life.
People ask me all the time what is the point of life. I am pretty sure where here because no place else would take is. Yup the world is made up of leftovers. Kinda like when your the last one picked for dodge ball. Those people who could dodge went on to better places. So if you wish to move on after this you better learn to duck....

Me vs. Spiderman
Where do we go now. I wanna know well where do we go. Here we all stay but going ain’t easy its tough. the tougher it gets the funnier I am and when I say I’m funny you better believe its true. I’m seriously one very very funny dude. What makes me so is this. People wanna know who I am right? Well I tell them I’m spider man and then I prove it. I fly planes over buildings I ride in automobiles and I sit in chairs. all the stuff spidey does. Hey if it where true that spidey was cool I’d be even cooler than spider man and I guarantee he’d be my number one fan.
Look about that spider man stuff just forget it I gotta admit that shit was pathetic. Theirs no way I could be as cool as a guy who thinks hes a spider but here’s just a reminder he was a guy before he became cool which means someday I could be a spider man too.

A little about me.
I'm a person. I look kinda funny but my funny looks are cool. If your down with funny looking people I'm a person you should be down with. I like to read and sing when I'm reading. If you like to sing and read try the two together. There is something so magical about it. I'm not looking to hook up. I'm already hooked.
I like all kinds of computers but mostly calculators. I can play with a calculator for days on end. Calculating random things from people who snore to people who drive drunk to people who don't drive because they drove drunk. The best calculator is the TI83 graphing calculator because after I calculate I can graph my results. The graphing is cool and all but the TI83 doesn't easily graph. Actually graphing with that thing can become a pain in the ass.
I like cars the faster the better. My car isn't that fast and I wish it was cause I'm constantly late.
Anyway enough about me let me tell you about my fish. I have two. Their names are Jacob and Goliath. Jacob is a trouble maker and likes to chase Goliath around the bowl. Goliath is Siamese fighting fish. Jacob is a minnow I been saving till spring for bait when I go fishing. Their both orphans because I ate thier families the poor little guys. Anyways if you would like to adopt either fish email me as soon as possible. I promise the adoption fees will be small and their both good fish. Well behaved and all.

Sobriety Check Point.
A place you can write articles and comments. Please check your sobriety at the door. If your F'd up and wanna share please share hear. Here I am writing this article and I realize I'm not wasted myself. Damn leave it to me to break my own cardinal rule

Some perv..
I just want to warn some of you there's been internet flashing going on. If you see a man in a trench coat lurking around please report him. Its your duty!

Old School vs. New School
I'm from the old school and by that I mean a school that is old. If you know the school I'm referring to you are probably from the old school too. Now if I was an old schooler and I new that the new schoolers where gonna be moving in I would have laughed. What a joke are the kids from this new school. They say kids today are smarter but that's not true cause when your an old school schooled person you know its not that there smarter its just what they teach you and I was taught that no matter what never be stupid. Now I wasn't ever stupid but alot of kids where. Mostly kids from the new school. There on drugs there getting pregnant younger and younger and they spend the whole day texting and sexting now that to me is pretty dumb. Not the sexting that sounds fun but the part that's dumb is hmmmm... lets see. Man now I'm pissed! These lucky little bastards.

I have a dog named Brownie and Brownie isn't really like a dog. Brownie is like a real person and when where together its like two unique individuals who are a lot alike. I'm actually more like Brownie than he is like me. I eat out of his dish on the floor more than he eats off my plate on the table. That's good because his manners suck. Always farting and burping slurping and chewing loud. I myself am too proud to do that kind of stuff. Enough about Brownie I'm not suppose to talk shit about him. If I do he starts talking shit about me and it gets really ugly.
I'm different
Category: Funny
Tags: I'm different
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So whats up? If your down with people that are different you should get to know me. I'm as different as they come. I'm trying not to sound dumb but how stupid do I sound obviously I'm not the exact same as everybody else. When you think of me though I don't want you to think I dress funny or look funny cause I said I was different. Cause i don't do either of those things. I'm just a different kind of person with a different kinda mentality. I like to think outside the box. A lot of people can't manage to get themselves out of the box and become very distraught. Being inside that box is crazy and causes box dwellers to become extremely cagey. I'm glad I finally escaped from it. If your one of those people who are still in the box and you wanna get out ask me cause I know how.
Anyway besides being different I'm very caring and when I say caring it means I care. I really do. So if you are in that box I promise I can help you out. Its not like I'm this box escaping ninja or something but getting out can be tricky. If you wanna get to know me don't check my box cause I'm not there I told ya. You too can be free like me all it takes is perseverance and a couple of years of guidance.
The guy with one eye
Category: Funny
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I got one eye. Well actually two but I only got eyes or one eye for you. The other eye man its rather dam slow cause the other eye ain't working not really cause its broken. That is why I'll be your guy if you only would go for a guy with one eye.
getting crazy
Category: Funny
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This is the time when I get kinda crazy. Try and stop me.
Funny Thing
Category: Funny
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Heres the funny thing about funny things. I had a funny thing that was funny. It was with a girl that didn't know me. I didn't know her she didn't know me and some people would say thats kind of funny. But the funny part was the break up. I had to call her and say hi this is somebody so and so and we're through. She cried real hard it was really rough. the moral of the story is don't try to break up with a girl who doesn't know you. She'll want to meet. However if you do have to do this better not to meet just do it over the phone. Trust me. Been through it so many times that I ought to know. I loved a lot of girls I never met and I'm sure they all love me. Most of the girls where on tv and when ever they would see me they would smile. Not just your everyday smile that you would get from a girl off the street but a big happy smile that you would only get from a girl on tv..

Now everyday when I think of myself I have to laugh just a little because I'm funny and I don't mean funny funny I mean funny cool and its so funny how much cooler I am than you. Don't try to ease your coolness to my coolness level cause a fellow I know tried to be as cool as me once and he actually ended up a big block of ice. When he thawed he admitted that its totally true he said Matt I could never ever be as cool as you dude. And I agreed him cool as me good luck he actually froze and thats gotta suck.

Now I'm a fun guy and to be totally true I'm a much funner guy than you. even the cool of me's fun and I know that its true you can't ever be funner than the cool of me too. Go head and try you'd probably die and you have a better chance of rounding off pie.
From the highway of hell
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From the highway of hell. I can't tell which highway I'm riding its going and going and going unslow and where it ends up I never will know. I run through the forest I climb through the trees I swing from the branches like I'm on the flying trapeze. Where the heck am I going knowbody knows but lately I'm moving very unslow. So where can you find me with the greatest of eaze obviously baby through the lastest of breeze. I run with the wind I move with the sound I thunder and rumble as the worlds going round. I go faster than lightning I move rather fast and I never look back upon my fast moving past. The pasts moving faster the future unslow and where I'll end up I never will know.
Fighting With Billy
Category: Funny
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Going home last night I got in a fight. With who you might ask. With Bill thats friggin who. Goddamn Billy all he does is pick on me. Last week he stole all my milk money. This week he blackened my eye. One of these days that son of bitch Billy is going to pay. Why cause he's such a son of a bitch. I'm gonna get ya billy. I'm gonna get ya.
Don't Quit
Category: Funny
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Today is the day. What happened was nuts to many people cheering for us We almost got home we where out straight and flat never damn caring if we ever looked back. When I was farther than I ever thought I would get I liked laughing about the part when I thought I would quit. If your a quitter and you know your unslow just keep on going you'll eventually get home.
Ride to share
Category: Funny
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Yes sharing a ride that goes nowhere. The ride doesn't run but its still tons of fun. If you wanna go for a ride in an automobile that doesn't go call me ya know. I can take you nowhere like nobody else can. I'm the nobody else man with the broken down truck that just sits in one spot and its totally nuts. Once you been in it there's nothing quite like it unless you have sat in one spot for a very long time then you have never been in a truck quite like mine. I got room for a few more in this piece of junk truck and we can all ride together. Riders must chip in for gas. The going rate is 4 dollars a gallon and its a gallon every half hour if the truck moves or not. Which it doesn't.
Me, Myself and I
Category: Funny
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Me, Myself, and I

Music:
    My favorite song is "Lose yourself in the lostness.
Movies:
    My favorite movie is me taping me. I did it in the mirror and its truly exquisite
Sports:
    Football and fantasy foozball.
Scared Of:
    People who attack other people.
Happiest When:
    I'm happy when your happy.
go crazy when
    when I find a penny in the street. I dance scream and jump for joy.
Also like to:
    watch the moon and howl.
Back in the day
Category: Funny
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From back in the day to my greatest dismay many a people I haven't seen. I haven't seen Jimmy or Betty or Sue, Tommy, Richie or Eddie Fondue. I haven't seen so many people where did they go. Honestly baby when I'm in the know and see someone I knew I ask all kinds of questions about what happen to who. "Yo remeber that guy Eddie Fondue." "Oh I certainly do." what happened to him?" "Oh he married Kim but the two of them split" Thats when I have a fit." Eddie was cool what she do cheat on him?" "Oh I really don't know I haven't seen him in years my own self ya know so." "Man poor Eddie." "Ya Ya I know." "What about somebody so and so though?" Ya I remember so and so." "Ya what happend to him?" "Actually now he's married to Kim" and it goes on like this until I talked about everyone I once did know and to be honest with ya all its pretty dam slow.
About Me
Category: Funny
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I rock but I don't throw stones. If you wanna be my friend you have to prove your usefulness or my usefulness to you. Contrary to what most people believe I believe we make friends out of necessity not by chance and convenience. If you don't agree don't bother trying to set me straight I am the most stubborn donkey you will ever meet. If your looking for a boyfriend I'm not your type. I'm the guy your mother warned you about. Not that I'm abusive in anyway but I'm definitely not the marrying kind. Those of you who wanna get to know me to see if you can be useful call me. Or have your people call my people. If you really wanna help I could use ya. I'm sorry if I offend anybody with this profile but hey I talk fact not fiction and fantasy. If you live in a fantasy world I know you won't agree. Anybody who agrees with me has got to be down to earth. So get your head out of the clouds and read this again from the beginning.
A Poor Jay
Category: Funny
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While walking through the park whistling I came across a Jay. Well that's what it was a Jay. I thought does this Jay know how to fly? Being the nice guy that I am I picked it up and threw it into the air. The jay crashed down causing me much worry. What on earth do I do now? So I took the Jay home and have been feeding him birdseed and worms. I have tried to demonstrate flying to him many times by running around flapping my arms in his presence. I think he is starting to catch on. I can tell because his look of confusion and being dumbfound when I do this has changed to a look of understanding. Tomorrow to simulate the way a mother Jay teaches her birds to fly by pushing them out of the nest I am going to climb a tall tree and drop her. This may sound harsh to some but I am devastated over having to do this. I really hope the Jay flies. Although this is going to be hard on both of us I have been reading books on tough love and I really think this is the best way. If you have any advice on bringing up a baby bird or even a toddler who was a slow walker I could really use your advice. Thanks.
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Next day Chloramphenicol. Chloramphenicol no doctor.
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The mother of a passenger aboard a plane that crashed in a remote area of Indonesia says her daughter has called her, raising hopes of finding survivors as rescuers struggled to reach the site. Search and rescue teams had been unable to reach the accident site in a mountainous area of Sumatra island by Friday afternoon, more than 30 hours after the plane carrying 18 people crashed.
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It would be great to keep a packet of quik tea masala chai handy and gift a few packets to your friend. It sure would be a novel way to ensure your friend thinks of you the first thing every morning.
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Love LETTER XLII
Category: Love Letters
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Dearest: I saw an old woman riding a horse astride: and I was convinced on
the spot that this is the rightest way of riding, and that the sidesaddle
was a foolish and affected invention. The horse was fine, and so was the
young man leading it: the old woman was upright and stately, with a wide
hat and full petticoats like a Maximilian soldier.

This was at Bozen, where we stayed for two nights, and from which I have
brought a cold with me: it seems such an English thing to have, that I
feel quite at home in the discomfort of it. It had been such wonderful
weather that we were sitting out of doors every evening up to 9.30 P.M.
without wraps, and on our heads only our "widows' caps." (The M.-A.
persists in a style which suggests that Uncle N. has gone to a better
world.) Mine was too flimsy a work of fiction, and a day before I had been
for a climb and got wet through, so a chill laid its benediction on my
head, and here I am,--not seriously incommoded by the malady, but by the
remedy, which is the M.-A. full of kind quackings and fierce tyranny if I
do but put my head out of window to admire the view, whose best is a
little round the corner.

I had no idea Innsbruck was so high up among the mountains: snows are on
the peaks all around. Behind the house-tops, so close and near, lies a
quarter circle of white crests. You are told that in winter creatures
come down and look in at the windows: sometimes they are called wolves,
sometimes bears--any way the feeling is mediæval.

Hereabouts the wayside shrines nearly always contain a crucifix, whereas
in Italy that was rare--the Virgin and Child being the most common. I
remarked on this, which I suppose gave rise to a subsequent observation
of the M.-A.'s: "I think the Tyrolese are a _good_ people: they are not
given over to Mariolatry like those poor priest-ridden Italians." I
think, however, that they merely have that fundamental grace, religious
simplicity, worshiping--just what they can get, for yesterday I saw two
dear old bodies going round and telling their beads before the bronze
statues of the Maximilian tomb--King Arthur, Charles the Bold, etc. I
suppose, by mere association, a statue helps them to pray.

The national costume does look so nice, though not exactly beautiful. I
like the flat, black hats with long streamers behind and a gold tassel,
and the spacious apron. Blue satin is a favorite style, always silk or
satin for Sunday best: one I saw of pearl-white brocade.

Since we came north we have had lovely weather, except the one day of
which I am still the filterings: and morning along the Brenner Pass was
perfect. I think the mountains look most beautiful quite early, at
sunrise, when they are all pearly and mysterious.

We go on to Zurich on Thursday, and then, Beloved, and then!--so this
must be my last letter, since I shall have nowhere to write to with you
rushing all across Europe and resting nowhere because of my impatience
to have you. The Mother-Aunt concedes a whole month, but Arthur will
have to leave earlier for the beginning of term. How little my two
dearest men have yet seen of each other! Barely a week lies between us:
this will scarcely catch you. Dearest of dearests, my heart waits on
yours.


Love LETTER XLI
Category: Love Letters
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Dearest: This letter will travel with me: we leave to-day. Our
movements are to be too restless and uncomfortable for the next few days
for me to have a chance of quiet seeing or quiet writing anywhere. At
Riva we shall rest, I hope.

Yesterday a storm began coming over towards evening, and I thought to
myself that if it passed in time there should be a splendid sunset of
smolder and glitter to be seen from the Campanile, and perhaps by good
chance a rainbow.

I went alone: when I got to the top the rain was pelting hard; so there
I stayed happily weather-bound for an hour looking over Venice "silvered
with slants of rain," and watching umbrellas scuttering below with toes
beneath them. The golden smolder was very slow in coming: it lay over
the mainland and came creeping along the railway track. Then came the
glitter and the sun, and I turned round and found my rainbow. But it
wasn't a bow, it was a circle: the Campanile stood up as it were a
spoke in the middle,--the lower curve of the rainbow lay on the ground
of the Piazzetta, cut off sharp by the shadow of the Campanile. It was
worth waiting an hour to see. The islands shone mellow and bright in the
clearance with the storm going off black behind them. Good-by, Venice!

       *       *       *       *       *

Verona began by seeming dull to me; but it improves and unfolds beautiful
corners of itself to be looked at: only I am given so little time. The
Tombs of the Della Scalas and the Renaissance façade of the Consiglio are
what chiefly delight me. I had some quiet hours in the Museo, where I fell
in love with a little picture by an unknown painter, of Orpheus charming
the beasts in a wandering green landscape, with a dance of fauns in the
distance, and here and there Eurydice running;--and Orpheus in Hades, and
the Thracian women killing him, and a crocodile fishing out his head, and
mermaids and ducks sitting above their reflections reflecting.

Also there is one beautiful Tobias and the Angel there by a painter
whose name I most ungratefully forget. I saw a man yesterday carrying
fishes in the market, each strung through the gills on a twig of myrtle:
that is how Tobias ought to carry his fish: when a native custom
suggests old paintings, how charming it always is!


    Riva.

We have just got here from Verona. In the matter of the garden at least
it is a Paradise of a place. A great sill of honeysuckle leans out from
my window: beyond is a court grown round with creepers, and beyond that
the garden--such a garden! The first thing one sees is an arcade of
vines upon stone pillars, between which peep stacks of roses, going off
a little from their glory now, and right away stretches an alley of
green, that shows at the end, a furlong off, the blue glitter of water.
It is a beautifully wild garden: grass and vegetables and trees and
roses all grow in a jungle together. There are little groves of bamboo
and chestnut and willow; and a runnel of water is somewhere--I can hear
it. It suggests rest, which I want; and so, for all its difference,
suggests you, whom also I want,--more, I own it now, than I have said!
But that went without saying, Beloved, as it always must if it is to be
the truth and nothing short of the truth.

While this has been waiting to go, your letter has been put into my hands.
I am too happy to say words about it, and can afford now to let this go as
it is. The little time of waiting for you will be perfect happiness now;
and your coming seems to color all that is behind as well. I have had a
good time indeed, and was only wearying with the plethora of my enjoyment:
but the better time has been kept till now. We shall be together day after
day and all day long for at least a month, I hope: a joy that has never
happened to us yet.

Never mind about the lost letter now, dearest, dearest: Venice was a
little empty just one week because of it. I still hope it will come; but
what matter?--I know _you_ will. All my heart waits for you.--Your most
glad and most loving.
Love LETTER XL
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Beloved: If two days slip by, I don't know where I am when I come to
write; things get so crowded in such a short space of time. Where I left
off I know not: I will begin where I am most awake--your letter which I
have just received.

That is well, dearest, that is well indeed: a truce till February! And
since the struggle then must needs be a sharp one--with only one end, as
we know,--do not vex her now by any overt signs of preparation as if you
assumed already that her final arguments were to be as so much chaff
before the wind. You do not tell me _what_ she argues, and I do not ask.
She does not say I shall not love you enough!

To answer businesslike to your questions first: with your forgiveness we
stay here till the 25th, and get back to England with the last of the
month. Does that seem a very cruel, far-off date? Others have the wish to
stay even longer, and it would be no fairness to hurry them beyond a
certain degree of reasonableness with my particular reason for
impatience, seeing, moreover, that in your love I have every help for
remaining patient. It is too much to hope, I suppose, that the "truce"
sets you free now, and that you could meet us here after all, and prolong
our stay indefinitely? I know one besides myself who would be glad, and
would welcome an outside excuse dearly.

For, oh, the funniness of near and dear things! Arthur's heart is laid
up with a small love affair, and it is the comicalest of internal
maladies. He is screwing up courage to tell me all about it, and I write
in haste before my mouth is sealed by his confidences. I fancy I know
the party, an energetic little mortal whom we met at Lucerne, where
Arthur lingered while we came on to Florence. She talked vaguely of
being in Venice some time this autumn; and the vagueness continues.
Arthur, in consequence, roams round disconsolately with no interest but
in hotel books. And for fear lest we should gird up his loins and drag
him away with us out of Paradisal possibilities, he is forever praising
Venice as a resting-place, and saying he wants to be nowhere else. The
bathing just keeps him alive; but when put to it to explain what charms
him since pictures do not, and architecture only slightly, he says in
exemplary brotherly fashion that he likes to see me completing my
education and enthusiasms,--and does not realize with how foreign an
air that explanation sits upon his shoulders.

I saw to-day a remnant of your patron saint, and for your sake
transferred a kiss to it, Italian fashion, with my thumb and the sign of
the cross. I hope it will do you good. Also, I have been up among the
galleries of St. Mark's, and about the roof and the west front where
somebody or another painted his picture of the bronze horses.

The pigeons get to recognize people personally, and grow more intimate
every time we come. I even conceive they make favorites, for I had three
pecking food out of my mouth to-day and refusing to take it in any other
fashion, and they coo and say thank you before and after every seed they
take or spill. They are quite the pleasantest of all the Italian
beggars--and the cleanest.

Your friend pressed us in to tea yesterday: I think less for the sake of
giving us tea than that we should see his palace, or rather his first
floor, in which alone he seems to lose himself. I have no idea for
measurements, but I imagine his big sala is about eighty feet long and
perhaps twenty-five feet across, with a flat-beamed roof, windows at
each end, and portières along the walls of old blue Venetian linen: a
place in which it seems one could only live and think nobly. His face
seems to respond to its teachings. What more might not an environment
like that bring out in you? Come and let me see! I have hopes springing
as I think of things that you may be coming after all; and that that is
what lay concealed under the gayety of your last paragraph. Then I am
more blessed even than I knew. What, you are coming? So well I do love
you, my Beloved!

Love LETTER XXXIX
Category: Love Letters
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My Own, Own Beloved: Say that my being away does not seem too long? I have
not had a letter yet, and that makes me somehow not anxious but
compunctious; only writing to you of all I do helps to keep me in good
conscience. Not the other foot gone to the mender's, I hope, with the same
obstructive accompaniments as went to the setting-up again of the last? If
I don't hear soon, you will have me dancing on wires, which cost as much
by the word as a gondola by the hour.

Yesterday we went to see Carpaccio at his best in San Giorgio di
Schiavone: two are St. George pictures, three St. Jeromes, and two of some
other saint unknown to me. The St. Jerome series is really a homily on the
love and pathos of animals. First is St. Jerome in his study with a sort
of unclipped white poodle in the pictorial place of honor, all alone on a
floor beautifully swept and garnished, looking up wistfully to his master
busy at writing (a Benjy saying, "Come and take me for a walk, there's a
good saint!"). Scattered among the adornments of the room are small
bronzes of horses and, I think, birds. So, of course, these being his
tastes, when St. Jerome goes into the wilderness, a lion takes to him, and
accompanies him when he pays a call on the monks in a neighboring
monastery. Thereupon, holy men of little faith, the entire fraternity take
to their heels and rush upstairs, the hindermost clinging to the skirts of
the formermost to be hauled the quicker out of harm's way. And all the
while the lion stands incorrectly offering the left paw, and Jerome with
shrugs tries to explain that even the best butter wouldn't melt in his
dear lion's mouth. After that comes the tragedy. St. Jerome lies dying in
excessive odor of sanctity, and all the monks crowd round him with prayers
and viaticums, and the ordinary stuffy pieties of a "happy death," while
Jerome wonders feebly what it is he misses in all this to-do for which he
cares so little. And there, elbowed far out into the cold, the lion lies
and lifts his poor head and howls because he knows his master is being
taken from him. Quite near to him, fastened to a tree, a queer,
nondescript, crocodile-shaped dog runs out the length of its tether to
comfort the disconsolate beast: but _la bête humaine_ has got the
whip-hand of the situation. In another picture is a parrot that has just
mimicked a dog, or called "Carlo!" and then laughed: the dog turns his
head away with a sleek, sheepish, shy look, exactly as a sensitive dog
does when you make fun of him.

These are, perhaps, mere undercurrents of pictures which are quite
glorious in color and design, but they help me to love Carpaccio to
distraction; and when the others lose me, they hunt through all the
Carpaccios in Venice till they find me!

Love me a little more if possible while I am so long absent from you! What
I do and what I think go so much together now, that you will take what I
write as the most of me that it is possible to cram in, coming back to you
to share everything.

Under such an Italian sky as to-day how I would like to see your face!
Here, dearest, among these palaces you would be in your peerage, for I
think you have some southern blood in you.

Curious that, with all my fairness, somebody said to me to-day, "But you
are not quite English, are you?" And I swore by the nine gods of my
ancestry that I was nothing else. But the look is in us: my father had a
foreign air, but made up for it by so violent a patriotism that Uncle N.
used to call him "John Bull let loose."

My love to England. Is it showing much autumn yet? My eyes long for green
fields again. Since I have been in Italy I had not seen one until the
other day from the top of St. Giorgio Maggiore, where one lies in hiding
under the monastery walls.

All that I see now quickens me to fresh thoughts of you. Yet do not expect
me to come back wiser: my last effort at wisdom was to fall in love with
you, and there I stopped for good and all. There I am still, everything
included: what do you want more? My letter and my heart both threaten to
be over-weight, so no more of them this time. Most dearly do I love you.
Love LETTER XXXVIII
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Dearest: St. Mark's inside is entirely different from anything I had
imagined. I had expected a grove of pillars instead of these wonderful
breadths of wall; and the marble overlay I had not understood at all till
I saw it. My admiration mounts every time I enter: it has a different
gloom from any I have ever been in, more joyous and satisfying, not in the
least moody as our own Gothic seems sometimes to be; and saints instead of
devils look at you solemn-eyed from every corner of shade.

A heavy rain turns the Piazza into a lake: this morning Arthur had to
carry me across. Other foolish Englishwomen were shocked at such means,
and paddled their own leaky canoes, or stood on the brink and looked
miserable. The effect of rain-pool reflections on the inside of St.
Mark's is noticeable, causing it to bloom unexpectedly into fresh
subtleties and glories. The gold takes so sympathetically to any least
tint of color that is in the air, and counts up the altar candles even
unto its furthest recesses and cupolas.

I think before I leave Venice I shall find about ten Tintorettos which I
really like. Best of all is that Bacchus and Ariadne in the Ducal Palace,
of which you gave me the engraving. His "Marriage of St. Catherine," which
is there also, has all Veronese's charm of color and what I call his
"breeding"; and in the ceiling of the Council Chamber is one splendid
figure of a sea-youth striding a dolphin.

Last evening we climbed the San Giorgio campanile for a sunset view of
Venice; it is a much better point of view than the St. Mark's one, and
we were lucky in our sunset. Venice again looked like a beautified
factory town, blue and blue with smoke and evening mists. Down below in
the church I met a delightful Capuchin priest who could talk French, and
a poor, very young lay-brother who had the holy custody of the eyes
heavily upon his conscience when I spoke to him. I was so sorry for him!

The Mother-Aunt is ill in bed; but as she is at the present moment
receiving three visitors, you will understand about how ill. The fact
is, she is worn to death with sight-seeing. I can't stop her; while she
is on her legs it is her duty, and she will. The consequence is I get
rushed through things I want to let soak into me, and have to go again.
My only way of getting her to rest has been by deserting her; and then I
come back and receive reproaches with a meek countenance.

Mr. C---- has been good to us and cordial, and brings his gondola often
to our service. A gondola and pair has quite a different motion from a
one-oared gondola; it is like riding a seahorse instead of a sea-camel--
almost exciting, only it is so soft in its prancings.

He took A. and myself into the procession which welcomed the crowned heads
last Wednesday; the hurly-burly of it was splendid. We tore down the Grand
Canal from end to end, almost cheek by jowl with the royalties; the M.-A.
was quite jubilant when she heard we had had such "good places." Hundreds
of gondolas swarmed round; many of them in the old Carpaccio rig-outs,
very gorgeous though a little tawdry when taken out of the canvas. Hut the
rush and the collisions, and the sound of many waters walloping under the
bellies of the gondolas, and the blows of fighting oars--regular
underwater wrestling matches--made it as vivid and amusing as a prolonged
Oxford and Cambridge boat-race in fancy costume. Our gondoliers streamed
with the exertion, and looked like men fighting a real battle, and yet
enjoyed it thoroughly. Violent altercations with police-boats don't ruffle
them at all; at one moment it looks daggers drawn; at the next it is
shrugs and smiles. Often, from not knowing enough of Italian and Italian
ways, I get hot all over when an ordinary discussion is going on, thinking
that blows are about to be exchanged. The Mother-Aunt had hung a wonderful
satin skirt out of window for decoration; and when she leaned over it in a
bodice of the same color, it looked as if she were sitting with her legs
out as well! I suppose it was this peculiar effect that, when the King and
Queen came by earlier in the morning, won for her a special bow and smile.

I must hurry or I shall miss the post that I wish to catch. There seems
little chance now of my getting you in Venice; but elsewhere perhaps you
will drop to me out of the clouds.

    Your own and most loving.
Love LETTER XXXVII
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Beloved: The weather is as gray as England to-day, and much rainier. To
feel it on my cheeks and be back north with that and warmer things, I
would go out in it in the face of protests, and had to go alone--not
Arthur even being in the mood just then for a patriotic quest of the
uncomfortable. I had myself oared into the lagoons across a racing current
and a driving head-wind which made my gondolier bend like a distressed
poplar over his oar; patience on a monument smiling at backsheesh--"all
comes to him who knows."

Of course, for comfort and pleasure, and everything but economy, we have
picked up a gondolier to pet: we making much of him, and he much out of
us. He takes Arthur to a place where he can bathe--to use his own
expression--"cleanly," that is to say, unconventionally; and this
appropriately enough is on the borders of a land called "the Garden of
Eden" (being named so after its owners). He--"Charon," I call him--is
large and of ruddy countenance, and talks English in blinkers--that is
to say, gondola English--out of which he could not find words to summon
me a cab even if it were not opposed to his interests. Still there are
no cabs to be called in Venice, and he is teaching us that the shortest
way is always by water. If Arthur is not punctually in his gondola by 7
A.M., I hear a call for the "Signore Inglese" go up to his window; and
it is hungry Charon waiting to ferry him.

Yesterday your friend Mr. C---- called and took me over to Murano in a
beautiful pair-oared boat that simply flew. There I saw a wonderful apse
filled with mosaic of dull gold, wherein is set a blue-black figure of
the Madonna, ten heads high and ten centuries old, which almost made me
become a Mariolatrist on the spot. She stands leaning up the bend with
two pale hands lifted in ghostly blessing. Underfoot the floor is all
mosaic, mountainous with age and earthquakes; the architecture classic
in the grip of Byzantine Christianity, which is like the spirit of God
moving on the face of the waters, or Ezekiel prophesying to the dry
bones.

The Colleoni is quite as much more beautiful in fact and seen full-size
as I had hoped from all smaller reproductions. A fine equestrian figure
always strikes one as enthroned, and not merely riding; if I can't get
that, I consider a centaur the nobler creature with its human body set
down into the socket of the brute, and all fire--a candle burning at
both ends: which, in a way, is what the centaur means, I imagine?

Bellini goes on being wonderful, and for me beats Raphael's Blenheim
Madonna period on its own ground. I hear now that the Raphael lady I
raved over in Florence is no Raphael at all,--which accounts for it
being so beautiful and interesting--to _me_, I hasten to add. Raphael's
studied calmness, his soul of "invisible soap and imperceptible water,"
may charm some; me it only chills or leaves unmoved.

Is this more about art than you care to hear? I have nothing to say
about myself, except that I am as happy as a cut-in-half thing can be.
Is it any use sending kind messages to your mother? If so, my heart is
full of them. Bless you, dearest, and good-night.
Love LETTER XXXVI
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Dearest: Venice is round me as I write! Well, I will not waste my Baedeker
knowledge on you,--you too can get a copy; and it is not the panoramic
view of things you will be wanting from me: it is my own particular Venice
I am to find out and send you. So first of all from the heart of it I send
you mine: when I have kissed you I will go on. My eyes have been seeing so
much that is new, I shall want a fresh vocabulary for it all. But mainly I
want to say, let us be here again together quickly, before we lose any
more of our youth or our two-handed hold on life. I get short of breath
thinking of it!

So let it be here, Beloved, that some of our soon-to-be happiness opens
and shuts its eyes: for truly Venice is a sleepy place. I am wanting,
and taking, nine hours' sleep after all I do!

Outside coming over the flats from Padua, she looked something like a
manufacturing town at its ablutions,--a smoky chimney well to the fore:
but get near to her and you find her standing on turquoise, her feet set
about with jaspers, and with one of her eyes she ravishes you: and all
her campanile are like the "thin flames" of "souls mounting up to God."

That is from without: within she becomes too sensuous and civic in her
splendor to let me think much of souls. "Rest and be indolent" is the
motto for the life she teaches. The architecture is the song of the
lotos-eater built into stone--were I in a more florid mood I would have
said "swan-song," for the whole stands finished with nothing more to be
added: it has sung itself out: and if there is a moral to it all, no
doubt it is in Ruskin, and I don't wont to read it just now.

What I want is you close at hand looking up at all this beauty, and
smiling when I smile, which is your way, as if you had no opinions of
your own about anything in which you are not a professor. So you will
write and agree that I am to have the pleasure of this return to look
forward to? If I know that, I shall be so much more reconciled to all
the joy of the things I am seeing now for the first time: and shall see
so much better the second, Beloved, when your eyes are here helping me.

Here is love, dearest! help yourself to just as much as you wish for;
though all that I send is good for you! No letter from you since
Florence, but I am neither sad nor anxious: only all the more your
loving.
Love LETTER XXXVI
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Dearest: Venice is round me as I write! Well, I will not waste my Baedeker
knowledge on you,--you too can get a copy; and it is not the panoramic
view of things you will be wanting from me: it is my own particular Venice
I am to find out and send you. So first of all from the heart of it I send
you mine: when I have kissed you I will go on. My eyes have been seeing so
much that is new, I shall want a fresh vocabulary for it all. But mainly I
want to say, let us be here again together quickly, before we lose any
more of our youth or our two-handed hold on life. I get short of breath
thinking of it!

So let it be here, Beloved, that some of our soon-to-be happiness opens
and shuts its eyes: for truly Venice is a sleepy place. I am wanting,
and taking, nine hours' sleep after all I do!

Outside coming over the flats from Padua, she looked something like a
manufacturing town at its ablutions,--a smoky chimney well to the fore:
but get near to her and you find her standing on turquoise, her feet set
about with jaspers, and with one of her eyes she ravishes you: and all
her campanile are like the "thin flames" of "souls mounting up to God."

That is from without: within she becomes too sensuous and civic in her
splendor to let me think much of souls. "Rest and be indolent" is the
motto for the life she teaches. The architecture is the song of the
lotos-eater built into stone--were I in a more florid mood I would have
said "swan-song," for the whole stands finished with nothing more to be
added: it has sung itself out: and if there is a moral to it all, no
doubt it is in Ruskin, and I don't wont to read it just now.

What I want is you close at hand looking up at all this beauty, and
smiling when I smile, which is your way, as if you had no opinions of
your own about anything in which you are not a professor. So you will
write and agree that I am to have the pleasure of this return to look
forward to? If I know that, I shall be so much more reconciled to all
the joy of the things I am seeing now for the first time: and shall see
so much better the second, Beloved, when your eyes are here helping me.

Here is love, dearest! help yourself to just as much as you wish for;
though all that I send is good for you! No letter from you since
Florence, but I am neither sad nor anxious: only all the more your
loving.
Love LETTER XXXV
Category: Love Letters
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Beloved: Rain swooped down on us from on high during the night, and the
country is cut into islands: the river from a rocky wriggling stream has
risen into a tawny, opaque torrent that roars with a voice a mile long and
is become quite unfordable. The little mill-stream just below has broken
its banks and poured itself away over the lower vineyards into the river;
a lot of the vines look sadly upset, generally unhinged and unstrung, yet
I am told the damage is really small. I hope so, for I enjoyed a real
lash-out of weather, after the changelessness of the long heat.

I have been down in Florence beginning to make my farewells to the many
things I have seen too little of. We start away for Venice about the end
of the week. At the Uffizi I seem to have found out all my future
favorites the first day, and very little new has come to me; but most of
them go on growing. The Raphael lady is quite wonderful; I think she was
in love with him, and her soul went into the painting though he himself
did not care for her; and she looks at you and says, "See a miracle: he
was able to paint this, and never knew that I loved him!" It is
wonderful that; but I suppose it can be done,--a soul pass into a work
and haunt it without its creator knowing anything about how it came
there. Always when I come across anything like that which has something
inner and rather mysterious, I tremble and want to get back to you. You
are the touchstone by which I must test everything that is a little new
and unfamiliar.

From now onwards, dearest, you must expect only cards for a time: it is
not settled yet whether we stop at Padua on our way in or our way out. I
am clamoring for Verona also; but that will be off our route, so Arthur
and I may go there alone for a couple of greedy days, which I fear will
only leave me dissatisfied and wishing I had had patience to depend on
coming again--perhaps with you!

Uncle N. has written of your numerous visits to him, and I understand you
have been very good in his direction. He does not speak of loneliness; and
with Anna and her brood next week or now, he will be as happy as his
temperament allows him to be when he has nothing to worry over.

I am proud to say I have gone brown without freckles. And are you really
as cheerful as you write yourself to be? Dearest and best, when is your
holiday to begin; and is it to be with me? Does anywhere on earth hold
that happiness for us both in the near future? I kiss you well, Beloved.
Love LETTER XXXIV
Category: Love Letters
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Dearest: We were to have gone down with the rest into Florence
yesterday: but soft miles of Italy gleamed too invitingly away on our
right, and I saw Arthur's eyes hungry with the same far-away wish. So I
said "Prato," and he ran up to the fattore's and secured a wondrous
shandry-dan with just space enough between its horns to toss the two of
us in the direction where we would go. Its gaunt framework was painted
of a bright red, and our feet had only netting to rest on: so
constructed, the creature was most vital and light of limb, taking every
rut on the road with flea-like agility. Oh, but it was worth it!

We had a drive of fourteen miles through hills and villages, and
castellated villas with gardens shut in by formidably high walls--always,
a charm: a garden should always have something of the jealous seclusion of
a harem. I am getting Italian landscape into my system, and enjoy it more
and more.

Prato is a little cathedral town, very like the narrow and tumble-down
parts of Florence, only more so. The streets were a seething caldron of
cattle-market when we entered, which made us feel like a tea-cup in a
bull-ring (or is it thunderstorm?) as we drove through needle's-eye ways
bristling with agitated horns.

The cathedral is little and good: damaged, of course, wherever the last
three centuries have laid hands on it. At the corner of the west front
is an out-door pulpit beautifully put on with a mushroom hood over its
head. The main lines of the interior are finely severe, either quite
round or quite flat, and proportions good always. An upholstered priest
coming out to say mass is generally a sickening sight, so wicked and
ugly in look and costume. The best-behaved people are the low-down
beggars, who are most decoratively devotional.

We tried to model our exit on a brigand-beggar who came in to ask
permission to murder one of his enemies. He got his request granted at
one of the side-altars (some strictly local Madonna, I imagine), and his
gratitude as he departed was quite touching. Having studiously copied
his exit, we want to know whom we shall murder to pay ourselves for our
trouble.

It amuses me to have my share of driving over these free and easy and
very narrow highroads. But A. has to do the collision-shouting and the
cries of "Via!"--the horse only smiles when he hears me do it.

Also did I tell you that on Saturday we two walked from here over to
Fiesole--six miles there, and ten back: for why?--because we chose to go
what Arthur calls "a bee-line across country," having thought we had
sighted a route from the top of Fiesole. But in the valley we lost it,
and after breaking our necks over precipices and our hearts down
cul-de-sacs that led nowhere, and losing all the ways that were pointed
out to us, for lack of a knowledge of the language, we came out again
into view of Florence about half a mile nearer than when we started and
proportionately far away from home. When he had got me thoroughly
foot-sore, Arthur remarked complacently, "The right way to see a country
is to lose yourself in it!" I didn't feel the truth of it then: but
applied to other things I perceive its wisdom. Dear heart, where I have
lost myself, what in all the world do I know so well as you?

    Your most lost and loving.


Love LETTER XXXIII
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Beloved: I had your last letter on Friday: all your letters have come in
their right numbers. I have lost count of mine; but I think seven and two
postcards is the total, which is the same as the numbers of clean and
unclean beasts proportionately represented in the ark.

Up here we are out of the deadliness of the heat, and are thankful for it.
Vineyards and olives brush the eyes between the hard, upright bars of the
cypresses: and Florence below is like a hot bath which we dip into and
come out again. At the Riccardi chapel I found Benozzo Gozzoli, not in
crumbs, but perfectly preserved: a procession of early Florentine youths,
turning into angels when they get to the bay of the window where the altar
once stood. The more I see of them, the greater these early men seem to
me: I shall be afraid to go to Venice soon; Titian will only half satisfy
me, and Tintoretto, I know, will be actively annoying: I shall stay in my
gondola, as your American lady did on her donkey after riding twenty
miles to visit the ruins, of--Carnac, was it not? It is well to have the
courage of one's likings and dislikings, that is the only true culture
(the state obtained by use of a "coulter" or cutter)--I cut many things
severely which, no doubt, are good for other people.

Botticelli I was shy of, because of the craze about him among people who
know nothing: he is far more wonderful than I had hoped, both at the
Uffizi and the Academia: but he is quite pagan. I don't know why I say
"but"; he is quite typical of the world's art-training: Christianity may
get hold of the names and dictate the subjects, but the artist-breed
carries a fairly level head through it all, and, like Pater's Mona Lisa,
draws Christianity and Paganism into one: at least, wherever it reaches
perfect expression it has done so. Some of the distinctly primitives are
different; their works inclose a charm which is not artistic. Fra
Angelico, after being a great disappointment to me in some of his large
set pictures in the Academia and elsewhere, shows himself lovely in fresco
(though I think the "crumb" element helps him). His great Crucifixion is
big altogether, and has so permanent a force in its aloofness from mere
drama and mere life. In San Marco, the cells of the monks are quite
charming, a row of little square bandboxes under a broad raftered
corridor, and in every cell is a beautiful little fresco for the monks to
live up to. But they no longer live there now: all that part of San Marco
has become a peep-show.

I liked being in Savonarola's room, and was more susceptible to the
remains of his presence than I have been to Michel Angelo or anyone
else's. Michel Angelo I feel most when he has left a thing unfinished;
then one can put one's finger into the print of the chisel, and believe
anything of the beauty that might have come out of the great stone
chrysalis lying cased and rough, waiting to be raised up to life.

Yesterday Arthur and I walked from here to Fiesole, which we had
neglected while in Florence--six miles going, and more like twelve
coming back, all because of Arthur's absurd cross-country instinct,
which, after hours of river-bends, bare mountain tracks, and tottering
precipices, brought us out again half a mile nearer Florence than when
we started.

At Fiesole is the only church about here whose interior architecture I
have greatly admired, austere but at the same time gracious--like a
Madonna of the best period of painting. We also went to look at the
Roman baths and theater: the theater is charming enough, because it is
still there: but for the baths--oblongs of stone don't interest me just
because they are old. All stone is old: and these didn't even hold water
to give one the real look of the thing. Too tired, and even more too
lazy, to write other things, except love, most dear Beloved.

Love LETTER XXXII
Category: Love Letters
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Dearest: The Italian paper-money paralyzes my brain: I cannot
calculate in it; and were I left to myself an unscrupulous shopman could
empty me of pounds without my becoming conscious of it till I beheld
vacuum. But the T----s have been wonderful caretakers to me: and
to-morrow Arthur rejoins us, so that I shall be able to resume my full
activities under his safe-conduct.

The ways of the Italian cabbies and porters fill me with terror for the
time when I may have to fall alive and unassisted into their hands: they
have neither conscience nor gratitude, and regard thievish demands when
satisfied merely as stepping-stones to higher things.

Many of the outsides of Florence I seemed to know by heart--the Palazzo
Vecchio for instance. But close by it Cellini's two statues, the Judith
and the Perseus, brought my heart up to my mouth unexpectedly. The
Perseus is so out of proportion as to be ludicrous from one point of
view: but another is magnificent enough to make me forgive the scamp his
autobiography from now to the day of judgment (when we shall all begin
forgiving each other in great haste, I suppose, for fear of the devil
taking the hindmost!), and I registered a vow on the spot to that
effect:--so no more of him here, henceforth, but good!

There is not so much color about as I had expected: and austerity rather
than richness is the note of most of the exteriors.

I have not been allowed into the Uffizi yet, so to-day consoled myself
with the Pitti. Titian's "Duke of Norfolk" is there, and I loved him,
seeing a certain likeness there to somebody whom I--like. A photo of him
will be coming to you. Also there is a very fine Lely-Vandyck of Charles
I. and Henrietta Maria, a quite moral painting, making a triumphant
assertion of that martyr's bad character. I imagine he got into heaven
through having his head cut off and cast from him: otherwise all of him
would have perished along with his mouth.

Somewhere too high up was hanging a ravishing Botticelli--a Madonna and
Child bending over like a wind-blown tree to be kissed by St. John:--a
composition that takes you up in its arms and rocks you as you look at
it. Andrea del Sarto is to me only a big mediocrity: there is nothing
here to touch his chortling child-Christ in our National Gallery.

At Pisa I slept in a mosquito-net, and felt like a bride at the altar
under a tulle veil which was too large for her. Here, for lack of that
luxury, being assured that there were no mosquitoes to be had, I have
been sadly ravaged. The creatures pick out all foreigners, I think, and
only when they have exhausted the supply do they pass on to the natives.
Mrs. T---- left one foot unveiled when in Pisa, and only this morning
did the irritation in the part bitten begin to come out.

I can now ask for a bath in Italian, and order the necessary things for
myself in the hotel: also say "come in" and "thank you." But just the
few days of that very German _table d'hôte_ at Lucerne, where I talked
gladly to polish myself up, have given my tongue a hybrid way of talking
without thinking: and I say "_ja, ja_," and "_nein_," and "_der, die,
das_," as often as not before such Italian nouns as I have yet captured.
To fall upon a chambermaid who knows French is like coming upon my
native tongue suddenly.

Give me good news of your foot and all that is above it: I am so doubtful
of its being really strong yet; and its willing spirits will overcome it
some day and do it an injury, and hurt my feelings dreadfully at the same
time.

Walk only on one leg whenever you think of me! I tell you truly I am
wonderfully little lonely: and yet my thoughts are constantly away with
you, wishing, wishing,--what no word on paper can ever carry to you. It
shall be at our next meeting!--All yours.
Love LETTER XXXI
Category: Love Letters
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Dearest: The Italian paper-money paralyzes my brain: I cannot
calculate in it; and were I left to myself an unscrupulous shopman could
empty me of pounds without my becoming conscious of it till I beheld
vacuum. But the T----s have been wonderful caretakers to me: and
to-morrow Arthur rejoins us, so that I shall be able to resume my full
activities under his safe-conduct.

The ways of the Italian cabbies and porters fill me with terror for the
time when I may have to fall alive and unassisted into their hands: they
have neither conscience nor gratitude, and regard thievish demands when
satisfied merely as stepping-stones to higher things.

Many of the outsides of Florence I seemed to know by heart--the Palazzo
Vecchio for instance. But close by it Cellini's two statues, the Judith
and the Perseus, brought my heart up to my mouth unexpectedly. The
Perseus is so out of proportion as to be ludicrous from one point of
view: but another is magnificent enough to make me forgive the scamp his
autobiography from now to the day of judgment (when we shall all begin
forgiving each other in great haste, I suppose, for fear of the devil
taking the hindmost!), and I registered a vow on the spot to that
effect:--so no more of him here, henceforth, but good!

There is not so much color about as I had expected: and austerity rather
than richness is the note of most of the exteriors.

I have not been allowed into the Uffizi yet, so to-day consoled myself
with the Pitti. Titian's "Duke of Norfolk" is there, and I loved him,
seeing a certain likeness there to somebody whom I--like. A photo of him
will be coming to you. Also there is a very fine Lely-Vandyck of Charles
I. and Henrietta Maria, a quite moral painting, making a triumphant
assertion of that martyr's bad character. I imagine he got into heaven
through having his head cut off and cast from him: otherwise all of him
would have perished along with his mouth.

Somewhere too high up was hanging a ravishing Botticelli--a Madonna and
Child bending over like a wind-blown tree to be kissed by St. John:--a
composition that takes you up in its arms and rocks you as you look at
it. Andrea del Sarto is to me only a big mediocrity: there is nothing
here to touch his chortling child-Christ in our National Gallery.

At Pisa I slept in a mosquito-net, and felt like a bride at the altar
under a tulle veil which was too large for her. Here, for lack of that
luxury, being assured that there were no mosquitoes to be had, I have
been sadly ravaged. The creatures pick out all foreigners, I think, and
only when they have exhausted the supply do they pass on to the natives.
Mrs. T---- left one foot unveiled when in Pisa, and only this morning
did the irritation in the part bitten begin to come out.

I can now ask for a bath in Italian, and order the necessary things for
myself in the hotel: also say "come in" and "thank you." But just the
few days of that very German _table d'hôte_ at Lucerne, where I talked
gladly to polish myself up, have given my tongue a hybrid way of talking
without thinking: and I say "_ja, ja_," and "_nein_," and "_der, die,
das_," as often as not before such Italian nouns as I have yet captured.
To fall upon a chambermaid who knows French is like coming upon my
native tongue suddenly.

Give me good news of your foot and all that is above it: I am so doubtful
of its being really strong yet; and its willing spirits will overcome it
some day and do it an injury, and hurt my feelings dreadfully at the same
time.

Walk only on one leg whenever you think of me! I tell you truly I am
wonderfully little lonely: and yet my thoughts are constantly away with
you, wishing, wishing,--what no word on paper can ever carry to you. It
shall be at our next meeting!--All yours.
love LETTER XXX
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Dearest: I cannot say I have seen Pisa, for the majority had
their way, and we simply skipped into it, got ourselves bumped down at
the Duomo and Campo Santo for two hours, fell exhausted to bed, and
skipped out again by the first train next morning. Over the walls of the
Campo Santo are some divine crumbs of Benozzo Gozzoli (don't expect me
ever to spell the names of dead painters correctly: it is a politeness
one owes to the living, but the famous dead are exalted by being spelt
phonetically as the heart dictates, and become all the better company
for that greatest of unspelled and spread-about names--Shakspere,
Shakspeare, Shakespeare--his mark, not himself). Such a long parenthesis
requires stepping-stones to carry you over it: "crumbs" was the last
(wasn't a whole loaf of bread a stepping-stone in one of Andersen's
fairy-tales?): but, indeed, I hadn't time to digest them properly. Let
me come back to them before I die, and bury me in that inclosure if you
love me as much then as I think you do now.

The Baptistry has a roof of echoes that is wonderful,--a mirror of sound
hung over the head of an official who opens his mouth for centimes to
drop there. You sing notes up into it (or rather you don't, for that is
his perquisite), and they fly circling, and flock, and become a single
chord stretching two octaves: till you feel that you are living inside
what in the days of our youth would have been called "the sound of a
grand Amen."

The cathedral has fine points, or more than points--aspects: but the
Italian version of Gothic, with its bands of flat marbles instead of
moldings, was a shock to me at first. I only begin to understand it now
that I have seen the outside of the Duomo at Florence. Curiously enough,
it doesn't strike me as in the least Christian, only civic and splendid,
reminding me of what Ruskin says about church architecture being really
a dependant on the feudal or domestic. The Strozzi Palace is a beautiful
piece of street-architecture; its effect is of an iron hand which gives
you a buffet in the face when you look up and wonder--how shall I climb
in? I will tell you more about insides when I write next.

I fear my last letter to you from Lucerne may either have strayed, or not
even have begun straying: for in the hurry of coming away I left it,
addressed, I _think_, but unstamped; and I am not sure that that
particular hotel will be Christian enough to spare the postage out of the
bill, which had a galaxy of small extras running into centimes, and
suggesting a red-tape rectitude that would not show blind
twenty-five-centime gratitude to the backs of departed guests. So be
patient and forgiving if I seem to have written little. I found two of
yours waiting for me, and cannot choose between them which I find most
dear. I will say, for a fancy, the shorter, that you may ever be
encouraged to write your shortest rather than none at all. One word from
you gives me almost as much pleasure as twenty, for it contains all your
sincerity and truth; and what more do I want? Yon bless me quite. How many
perfectly happy days I owe to you, and seldom dare dream that I have made
any beginning of a return! If I could take one unhappy day out of your
life, dearest, the secret would be mine, and no such thing should be left
in it. Be happy, beloved! oh, happy, happy,--with me for a partial
reason--that is what I wish!
Love LETTER XXIX
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Beloved: You know of the method for making a cat settle down in
a strange place by buttering her all over: the theory being that by the
time she has polished off the butter she feels herself at home? My
morning's work has been the buttering of the Mother-Aunt with such
things as will Lucerne her the most. When her instincts are appeased I
am the more free to indulge my own.

So after breakfast we went round the cloisters, very thick set with
tablets and family vaults, and crowded graves inclosed. It proved quite
"the best butter." To me the penance turned out interesting after a
period of natural repulsion. A most unpleasant addition to sepulchral
sentiment is here the fashion: photographs of the departed set into the
stone. You see an elegant and genteel marble cross: there on the
pedestal above the name is the photo:--a smug man with bourgeois
whiskers,--a militiaman with waxed mustaches well turned up,--a woman
well attired and conscious of it: you cannot think how indecent looked
the pretension of such types to the dignity of death and immortality.

But just one or two faces stood the test, and were justified: a young
man oppressed with the burden of youth; a sweet, toothless grandmother
in a bonnet, wearing old age like a flower; a woman not beautiful but
for her neck which carried indignation; her face had a thwarted look.
"Dead and rotten" one did not say of these in disgust and involuntarily
as one did of the others. And yet I don't suppose the eye picks out the
faces that kindled most kindness round them when living, or that one can
see well at all where one sees without sympathy. I think the
Mother-Aunt's face would not look dear to most people as it does to
me,--yet my sight of her is the truer: only I would not put it up on a
tombstone in order that it might look nothing to those that pass by.

I wrote this much, and then, leaving the M.-A. to glory in her
innumerable correspondence, Arthur and I went off to the lake, where we
have been for about seven hours. On it, I found it become infinitely
more beautiful, for everything was mystified by a lovely bloomy haze,
out of which the white peaks floated like dreams: and the mountains
change and change, and seem not all the same as going when returning.
Don't ask me to write landscape to you: one breathes it in, and it is
there ever after, but remains unset to words.

The T----s whittle themselves out of our company just to the right
amount: come back at the right time (which is more than Arthur and I are
likely to do when our legs get on the spin), and are duly welcome with a
diversity of doings to talk about. Their tastes are more the M.-A.'s,
and their activities about halfway between hers and ours, so we make
rather a fortunate quintette. The M---- trio join us the day after
to-morrow, when the majority of us will head away at once to Florence.
Arthur growls and threatens he means to be left behind for a week: and
it suits the funny little jealousy of the M.-A. well enough to see us
parted for a time, quite apart from the fact that I shall then be more
dependent on her company. She will then glory in overworking
herself,--say it is me; and I shall feel a fiend. No letter at all,
dearest, this; merely talky-talky.--Yours without words.
LETTER XXVIII
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Dearest: Here comes a letter to you from me flying in the opposite
direction. I won't say I am not wishing to go; but oh, to be a bird in two
places at once! Give this letter, then, a special nesting-place, because I
am so much on the wing elsewhere.

I shut my eyes most of the time through France, and opened them on a
soup-tureen full of coffee which presented itself at the frontier: and
then realized that only a little way ahead lay Berne, with baths, buns,
bears, breakfast, and other nice things beginning with B, waiting to make
us clean, comfortable, contented, and other nice things beginning with C.

Through France I loved you sleepy fashion, with many dreams in between not
all about you. But now I am breathing thoughts of you out of a new
atmosphere--a great gulp of you, all clean-living and high-thinking
between these Alpine royal highnesses with snow-white crowns to their
heads: and no time for a word more about anything except you: you, and
double-you,--and treble-you if the alphabet only had grace to contain so
beautiful a symbol! Good-by: we meet next, perhaps, out of Lucerne: if
not,--Italy.

What a lot I have to go through before we meet again visibly! You will
find me world-worn, my Beloved! Write often.
Love LETTER XXVII
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Dearest: I have made a bad beginning of the week: I wonder how it will
end? it all comes of my not seeing enough of you. Time hangs heavy on my
hands, and the Devil finds me the mischief!

I prevailed upon myself to go on Sunday and listen to our new lately
appointed vicar: for I thought it not fair to condemn him on the strength
of Mrs. P----'s terrible reporting powers and her sensuous worship of his
full-blown flowers of speech--"pulpit-pot-plants" is what I call them.

It was not worse and not otherwise than I had expected. I find there are
only two kinds of clerics as generally necessary to salvation in a country
parish--one leads his parishioners to the altar and the other to the
pulpit: and the latter is vastly the more popular among the articulate and
gad-about members of his flock. This one sways himself over the edge of
his frame, making signals of distress in all directions, and with that and
his windy flights of oratory suggests twenty minutes in a balloon-car,
till he comes down to earth at the finish with the Doxology for a
parachute. His shepherd's crook is one long note of interrogation, with
which he tries to hook down the heavens to the understanding of his
hearers, and his hearers up to an understanding of himself. All his
arguments are put interrogatively, and few of them are worth answering.
Well, well, I shall be all the freer for your visit when you come next
Sunday, and any Sunday after that you will: and he shall come in to tea if
you like and talk to you in quite a cultured and agreeable manner, as he
can when his favorite beverage is before him.

I discover that I get "the snaps" on a Monday morning, if I get them at
all. The M.-A. gets them on the Sunday itself, softly but regularly: they
distress no one, and we all know the cause: her fingers are itching for
the knitting which she mayn't do. Your Protestant ignores Lent as a Popish
device, a fond thing vainly invented: but spreads it instead over
fifty-two days in the year. Why, I want to know, cannot I change the
subject?

Sunday we get no post (and no collection except in church) unless we send
down to the town for it, so Monday is all the more welcome: but this I
have been up and writing before it arrives--therefore the "snaps."

Our postman is a lovely sight. I watched him walking up the drive the
other morning, and he seemed quite perfection, for I guessed he was
bringing me the thing which would make me happy all day. I only hope the
Government pays him properly.

I think this is the least pleasant letter I have ever sent you: shall I
tell you why? It was not the sermon: he is quite a forgivable good man in
his way. But in the afternoon that same Mrs. P---- came, got me in a
corner, and wanted to unburden herself of invective against your mother,
believing that I should be glad, because her coldness to me has become
known! What mean things some people can think about one! I heard nothing:
but I am ruffled in all my plumage and want stroking. And my love to your
mother, please, if she will have it. It is only through her that I get
you.--Ever your very own.

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