Besides the wit and the anecdote and the brilliant descriptions of masquerades and midnight revelries his friends drew from him something superficial yet profound, something changing yet entire—himself shall we call it in default of one word for that which friends elicit but the great public kills.
He that dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt; and therefore a mind fixed, and bent upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolors of death. In this act of ritual decryption, it is useful to begin with the assumption that decrypted realities are unlikely to revolve around human concerns.
There is always a hope, as we reach down some grayish-white book from an upper shelf, directed by its air of shabbiness and desertion, of meeting here with a man who set out on horseback over a hundred years ago to explore the woollen market in the Midlands and Wales; an unknown traveller, who stayed at inns, drank his pint, noted pretty girls and serious customs, wrote it all down stiffly, laboriously for sheer love of it the book was published at his own expense ; was infinitely prosy, busy, and matter-of-fact, and so let flow in without his knowing it the very scent of hollyhocks and the hay together with such a portrait of himself as gives him forever a seat in the warm corner of the mind's inglenook.
Then, too, she is agitated beyond what is right or reasonable, because a letter has not reached her. That is partly because she created her being, not in plays or poems, but in letters—touch by touch, with repetitions, amassing daily trifles, writing down what came into her head as if she were talking.
So they had stood at the cottage door, he with his bundle on his back, she just lightly touching his sleeve with her hand. And further, there was another prick of the pin: For if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not but great boldness is seldom without some absurdity.
But this background, while it gives its scale to the moment, is so well established that she is secure. The Scripture saith, The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God: These properties, of arts or policy, and dissimulation or closeness, are indeed habits and faculties several, and to be distinguished.
She loves the gipsy girl who dances, as her own daughter used to dance, but not of course so exquisitely. It is well, when nobles are not too great for sovereignty nor for justice; and yet maintained in that height, as the insolency of inferiors may be broken upon them, before it come on too fast upon the majesty of kings.
Therefore it is the weaker sort of politics, that are the great dissemblers. This is well to be weighed; that boldness is ever blind; for it seeth not danger, and inconveniences. Lastly, near kinsfolks, and fellows in office, and those that have been bred together, are more apt to envy their equals, when they are raised.
Wherever she alights she attracts at once the love of some boy or girl; or the exacting admiration of a man of the world like her disagreeable cousin Bussy Rabutin, who cannot rest under her disapproval, but must be assured of her good opinion in spite of all his treachery.
In place, there is license to do good, and evil; whereof the latter is a curse: Into each of these lives one could penetrate a little way, far enough to give oneself the illusion that one is not tethered to a single mind, but can put on briefly for a few minutes the bodies and minds of others.
She is by no means a simple spectator. This packing up and going off, exploring deserts and catching fevers, settling in India for a lifetime, penetrating even to China and then returning to lead a parochial life at Edmonton, tumbles and tosses upon the dusty floor like an uneasy sea, so restless the English are, with the waves at their very door.
The metaphor of a passive and translucent veil separating the human and technological worlds has been transformed into the actuality of skeumorphic linings obscuring bare metal.
Above all things, good policy is to be used, that the treasure and moneys, in a state, be not gathered into few hands. I looked out of doors. Still, there was no getting around that darned school clock -which I know for a fact was rigged by the school system to run slower than normal.
However it is a Phlebopus. She is never reading, or only the newspaper; her talk, when it leaves bookselling, which it does so gladly, is about hats; she likes a hat to be practical, she says, as well as pretty.
But let such military persons be assured, and well reputed of, rather than factious and popular; holding also good correspondence with the other great men in the state; or else the remedy, is worse than the disease.
Nay, Seneca adds niceness and satiety: Let me see; there was a great deal of beauty brought in to-day: For perhaps they have heard some talk, Such an one is a great rich man, and another except to it, Yea, but he hath a great charge of children; as if it were an abatement to his riches.
They cannot utter the one; nor they will not utter the other. Venkatesh Rao. is a Seattle-based writer and consultant. He is the author of Tempo (), a book on decision-making, and blogs at ribbonfarm.
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When is begins to affect her everyday activities, she has an intervention- and her. The safety of "pink slime" remains an unsettled question. Though some food safety advocates, and many in the meat industry Do you have info to share with HuffPost reporters?
More than a decade has passed since Stephen Hillenburg’s porous protagonist established Bikini Bottom as a must-see outpost of popular culture.
Tom Heintjes gathered insights and reminiscences from some of the people behind SpongeBob SquarePants to illuminate the making of a cultural phenomenon.Pink slime essays