Wednesday, January 30, 2008

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"It's about as bad as it can be.Sir Carmichael Clarke has been foundwith his head bashed in." Sir Carmichael Clarke,although his name was not very well known to thegeneral public,was a man of some eminence.He had been in his time a verywell-known throat specialist.Retiring from his profession very comfortablyoff,he had been able to indulge what had been one of the chief passions ofhis life-a collection of Chinese pottery and porcelain.A few years later,inheriting a considerable fortune from an elderly uncle,he had been able toindulge his passion to the full,and he was now the possessor of one of thebest-known colletions of Chinese art.He was married but had no children andlived in a house he had built for himself near the Devon coast,
oil paintings only comingto London on rare occasions such as when some important sale was on. It did not require much reflection to realize that his death,followingthat of the young and pretty Betty Barnard,would provide the best newspaper

Monday, January 28, 2008

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working in the Ginger Cat,she was always running up against men-especiallyin the summer holidays.She was always very pat with her tongue and if theychaffed her she'd chaff back again.And then perhaps she'd meet them and goto the pictures or something like that.Nothing serious-never anything ofthat kind-but she just liked her fun.She used to say that as she'd got tosettle down with Don one day she might as well have her fun now while shecould." Megan paused and Poirot said: "I understand.Continue." "It was just that attitude of mind of hers that Don couldn't understand. If she was really keen on him he couldn't see why she wanted to go outwith other people.And once or twice they had flaming big rows about it."
oil paintings "M.Don,he was no longer quiet?" "It's like all those quiet people,when they do lose their tempers theylose them with a vengeance.Don was so violent that Betty was frightened." "When was this?"

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"Well,sir,I'd better get down to it,"said Crome."There's the cafe andthere's the girl's home.I'd better go to both of them.Kelsey can come withme." "And Mr Poirot?"asked the superintendent. "I will accompany you,"said Poirot to Crome with a little bow. Crome,I thought,looked slightly annoyed.Kelsey,sho had not seenPoirot before,grinned broadly.
oil paintings It was an unfortunate circumstance that the first time people saw myfriend they were always disposed to consider him as a joke of the first water. "What about this belt she was strangled with?"asked Crome."Mr Poirot isinclined to think it's a valuable clue.I expect he'd like to see it." "Du tout,"said Poirot quickly."You misunderstood me." "You'll get nothing from that,"said Carter."It wasn't a leatherbelt-mignt have got fingerprints if it had been.Just a thick sort of knittedsilk-ideal for the purpose." I gave a shiver. "Well,"said Crome,"we'd better be getting along."

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
American Day Dream
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Boulevard des Capucines
resting there. Your chest is heaving, your tongue protruding, your skin turning dark, your eyes swimming. "To live! To live! To live!" you are crying; and you are crying to live here and now, not hereafter. You doubt your immortality, eh? Ha! ha! You are not sure of it. You won't chance it. This life only you are certain is real. Ah, it is growing dark and darker. It is the darkness of death, the ceasing to be, the ceasing to feel, the ceasing to move, that is
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gathering about you, descending upon you, rising around you. Your eyes are becoming set. They are glazing. My voice sounds faint and far. You cannot see my face. And still you struggle in my grip. You kick with your legs. Your body draws itself up in knots like a snake's. Your chest heaves and strains. To live! To live! To live- ' ¡¡¡¡I heard no more. Consciousness was blotted out by the darkness he had so graphically described, and when I came to myself I was lying on the floor, and he was smoking a cigar and regarding me thoughtfully with that old, familiar light of curiosity in his eyes.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
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and vexation, an evil thing; but death, the ceasing to be able to be vain and vexed, he found an eviler thing. Through chapter after chapter he is worried by the one event that cometh to all alike. So Omar, so I, so you, even you, for you rebelled against dying when Cooky sharpened a knife for you. You were afraid to die; the life that was in you, that composes you, that is greater than you, did not want to die. You have talked of the instinct of immortality.
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I talk of the instinct of life, which is to live, and which, when death looms near and large, masters the instinct, so called, of immortality. It mastered it in you (you cannot deny it), because a crazy Cockney cook sharpened a knife. ¡¡¡¡'You are afraid of him now. You are afraid of me. You cannot deny it. If I catch you by the throat thus,'- his hand was about my throat, and my breath was shut off,- 'and begin to press the life out of you, thus, and thus, your instinct of immortality will go glimmering, and your instinct of life, which is longing for life, will flutter up, and you will struggle to save yourself. Eh? I see the fear of death in your eyes. You beat the air with your arms. You exert all your puny strength to struggle to live. Your hand is clutching my arm; lightly it feels as a butterfly

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Christ In The Storm On The Sea Of Galilee
own- he recited the same lines and invested them with an unrest and passionate revolt that were well-nigh convincing. ¡¡¡¡I was interested as to which quatrain he would like best, and was not surprised when he hit upon the one born of an instant's irritability and quite at variance with the Persian's complacent philosophy
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and genial code of life: ¡¡¡¡ What, without asking, hither hurried Whence? ¡¡¡¡ And, without asking, Whither hurried hence! ¡¡¡¡ Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine ¡¡¡¡ Must drown the memory of that insolence! ¡¡¡¡'Great!' Wolf Larsen cried. 'Great! That's the keynote. Insolence! He could not have used a better word.' ¡¡¡¡In vain I objected and denied. He deluged me, overwhelmed me with argument. ¡¡¡¡'It's not the nature of life to be otherwise. Life, when it knows that it must cease living, will always rebel. It cannot help itself. The Preacher found life and the works of life all a vanity

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you know how to play Nap,' Wolf Larsen was saying in a pleased sort of voice. 'I might have guessed an Englishman would know. I learned it myself in English ships.' ¡¡¡¡Thomas Mugridge was beside himself, a blithering imbecile, so pleased was he at chumming thus with the captain. The little airs he put on, and the painful striving to assume the easy carriage of a man born to a dignified place in life, would have been sickening had they not been ludicrous. He
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quite ignored my presence, though I credited him with being simply unable to see me. His pale, wishy-washy eyes were swimming like lazy summer seas, though what blissful visions they beheld were beyond my imagination. ¡¡¡¡'Get the cards, Hump,' Wolf Larsen ordered, as they took seats at the table, 'and bring out the cigars and the whiskey you'll find in my berth.' ¡¡¡¡I returned with the articles in time to hear the Cockney hinting broadly that there was a mystery about him- that he might be a gentleman's son gone wrong or something or other

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I had seen him a score of times, at table, insulting this hunter or that with cool and level eyes and, withal, a certain air of interest, pondering their actions or replies or petty rages with a curiosity almost laughable to me who stood onlooker and who understood. Concerning his own rages, I was convinced that they were not real, that they were sometimes experiments, but that in the main they were the habits of a pose or attitude he had seen fit to take toward his fellowmen. I knew, with the possible exception of the incident of the dead mate, that I had not seen him really angry; nor did I wish ever to see him in a genuine rage, when all the force of him would be called into play. ¡¡¡¡While on the question of
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vagaries, I shall tell what befell Thomas Mugridge in the cabin, and at the same time complete an incident upon which I have already touched once or twice. The twelve o'clock dinner was over, one day, and I had just finished putting the cabin in order, when Wolf Larsen and Thomas Mugridge descended the companion-stairs. Though the cook had a cubby-hole of a state-room opening off from the cabin, in the cabin itself he had never dared to linger or to be seen, and he flitted to and fro, once or twice a day, like a timid specter.

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drop the volume during a lurch of the ship, a sheet of paper fell out. It was scrawled over with geometrical diagrams and calculations of some sort. ¡¡¡¡It was patent that this terrible man was no ignorant clod, such as one would inevitably suppose him to be from his exhibitions of brutality. At once he became an enigma. One side or the other of his nature was perfectly comprehensible, but both sides together were bewildering. I had already
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remarked that his language was excellent, marred with an occasional slight inaccuracy. Of course, in common speech with the sailors and hunters, it sometimes fairly bristled with errors, which was due to the vernacular itself; but in the few words he had held with me it had been clear and correct. ¡¡¡¡This glimpse I had caught of his other side must have emboldened me, for I resolved to speak to him about the money I had lost. ¡¡¡¡'I have been robbed,' I said to him a little later, when I found him pacing up and down the poop alone. ¡¡¡¡'Sir,' he corrected, not harshly, but sternly. ¡¡¡¡'I have been robbed, sir,' I amended. ¡¡¡¡'How did it happen?' he asked.

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up. Brushing the ashes from his clothes, he had resumed his conversation with Henderson. Johansen, who had seen the affair from the break of the poop, sent a couple of sailors aft to clean up the mess. ¡¡¡¡Later in the morning I received a surprise of a totally different sort. Following the cook's instructions, I had gone into Wolf Larsen's state-room to put it to rights and make the bed. Against the wall, near the head of the bunk, was a rack filled with books. I glanced over them, noting with astonishment such names as Shakespeare, Tennyson, Poe, and De Quincey. There were
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scientific works, too, among which were represented men such as Tyndall, Proctor, Darwin, and I remarked Bulfinch's 'Age of Fable,' Shaw's 'History of English and American Literature,' and Johnson's 'Natural History' in two large volumes. Then there were a number of grammars, such as Metcalf and Reed & Kellogg; and I smiled as I saw a copy of 'The Dean's English.' ¡¡¡¡I could not reconcile these books with the man from what I had seen of him, and I wondered if he could possibly read them. But when I came to make the bed, I found, between the blankets, dropped apparently as he had sunk off to sleep, a complete Browning. It was open at 'In a Balcony,' and I noticed here and there passages underlined in pencil. Further, letting

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¡¡¡¡I debated a moment, looking him squarely in the eyes. I had seen the frightful treatment of the cabin-boy, and knew that I should very probably receive the same, if not worse. As I say, I debated with myself, and then I did what I consider the bravest act of my life. I ran to the side, waving my arms and shouting: ¡¡¡¡'Lady Mine, ahoy! Take me ashore! A thousand dollars if you take me ashore!' ¡¡¡¡I waited, watching two men who stood by the wheel,
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one of them steering. The other was lifting a megaphone to his lips. I did not turn my head, though I expected every moment a killing blow from the human brute behind me. At last, after what seemed centuries, unable longer to stand the strain, I looked around. He had not moved. He was standing in the same position, swaying easily to the roll of the ship and lighting a fresh cigar. ¡¡¡¡'What is the matter? Anything wrong?' ¡¡¡¡This was the cry from the Lady Mine. ¡¡¡¡'Yes!' I shouted at the top of my lungs. 'Life or death! One thousand dollars if you take me ashore!'

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at the very least- crumpled up. His body wrapped limply about the fist like a wet rag about a stick. He lifted into the air, described a short curve, and struck the deck on his head and shoulders, where he lay and writhed about in agony. ¡¡¡¡'Well?' Larsen asked of me. 'Have you made up your mind?' ¡¡¡¡I had glanced occasionally at the approaching schooner, and it was now almost abreast of us and not more than a couple of hundred yards away.
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It was a very trim and neat little craft. I could see a large black number on one of its sails, and I had seen pictures of pilot-boats. ¡¡¡¡'What vessel is that?' I asked. ¡¡¡¡'The pilot-boat Lady Mine,' Wolf Larsen answered grimly. 'Got rid of her pilots and running into San Francisco. She'll be there in five or six hours with this wind.' ¡¡¡¡'Will you please signal it, then, so that I may be put ashore?' ¡¡¡¡'Sorry, but I've lost the signal-book overboard,' he remarked, and the group of hunters grinned.

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seemed to come out of a strength that was excessive and overwhelming. In fact, though this strength pervaded every action of his, it seemed but the advertisement of a greater strength that lurked within, that lay dormant and no more than stirred from time to time, but which might arouse at any moment, terrible and compelling, like the rage of a lion or the wrath of a storm. ¡¡¡¡The cook stuck his head out of the galley door and grinned encouragingly at me,
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at the same time jerking his thumb in the direction of the man who paced up and down by the hatchway. Thus I was given to understand that he was the captain, the 'Old Man,' in the cook's vernacular, the person whom I must interview and put to the trouble of somehow getting me ashore. I had half started forward, to get over with what I was certain would be a stormy quarter of an hour, when a more violent suffocating paroxysm seized the unfortunate person who was lying on his back. He writhed about convulsively. The chin, with the damp black beard, pointed higher in the air as the back muscles stiffened and the chest swelled in an unconscious and instinctive effort to get more air.

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termed a sinewy, knotty strength, of the kind we ascribe to lean and wiry men, but which, in him, because of his heavy build, partook more of the enlarged gorilla order. Not that in appearance he seemed in the least gorilla-like. What I am striving to express is this strength itself, more as a thing apart from his physical semblance. It was a strength we are wont to associate with things primitive, with wild animals and the creatures we imagine our tree-dwelling
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prototypes to have been- a strength savage, ferocious, alive in itself, the essence of life in that it is the potency of motion, the elemental stuff itself out of which the many forms of life have been molded. ¡¡¡¡Such was the impression of strength I gathered from this man who paced up and down. He was firmly planted on his legs; his feet struck the deck squarely and with surety: every movement of a muscle, from the heave of the shoulders to the tightening of the lips about the cigar, was decisive and

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Nothing was to be seen of his chest, however, for it was covered with a mass of black hair, in appearance like the furry coat of a dog. His face and neck were hidden beneath a black beard, intershot with gray, which would have been stiff and bushy had it not been limp and draggled and dripping with water. His eyes were closed, and he was apparently unconscious; but his mouth was wide open, his breast heaving as though from suffocation as he labored noisily
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for breath. A sailor, from time to time and quite methodically, as a matter of routine, dropped a canvas bucket into the ocean at the end of a rope, hauled it in hand under hand, and sluiced its contents over the prostrate man. ¡¡¡¡Pacing back and forth the length of the hatchway, and savagely chewing the end of a cigar, was the man whose casual glance had rescued me from the sea. His height was probably five feet ten inches, or ten and a half; but my first impression or feel of the man was not of this, but of his strength. And yet, while he was of massive build, with broad shoulders and deep chest, I could not characterize his strength as massive. It was what might be

Friday, January 25, 2008

The Painter's Honeymoon

The Painter's Honeymoon
the polish rider
The Sacrifice of Abraham painting
The Three Ages of Woman
¡¡¡¡ "We were unlucky, Miss Price," he continued, in a lower tone, to avoid the possibility of being heard by Edmund, and not at all aware of her feelings, "we certainly were very unlucky. Another week, only one other week, would have been enough for us. I think if we had had the disposal of events--if Mansfield Park had had the government of the winds just for a week or two, about the equinox, there would have been a difference. Not that we would have
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endangered his safety by any tremendous weather-- but only by a steady contrary wind, or a calm. I think, Miss Price, we would have indulged ourselves with a week's calm in the Atlantic at that season." ¡¡¡¡ He seemed determined to be answered; and Fanny, averting her face, said, with a firmer tone than usual, "As far as _I_ am concerned, sir, I would not have delayed his return for a day. My uncle disapproved it all so entirely when he did arrive, that in my opinion everything had gone quite far enough." ¡¡¡¡ She had never spoken so much at once to him in her life before, and never so angrily to any one; and when her speech was over

Woman with a Parasol

Woman with a Parasol
The Virgin and Child with St Anne
The Water lily Pond
Venus and Cupid
indefatigable patience in trying to make it possible for him to learn his part-- in trying to give him a brain which nature had denied-- to mix up an understanding for him out of the superfluity of your own! _He_ might not have sense enough himself to estimate your kindness, but I may venture to say that it had honour from all the rest of the party." ¡¡¡¡ Fanny coloured, and said nothing. ¡¡¡¡ "It is as a dream, a pleasant dream!" he exclaimed, breaking forth again, after a few minutes' musing. "I shall always look back on our theatricals with exquisite pleasure. There was such an interest,
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such an animation, such a spirit diffused. Everybody felt it. We were all alive. There was employment, hope, solicitude, bustle, for every hour of the day. Always some little objection, some little doubt, some little anxiety to be got over. I never was happier." ¡¡¡¡ With silent indignation Fanny repeated to herself, "Never happier!--never happier than when doing what you must know was not justifiable!--never happier than when behaving so dishonourably and unfeelingly! Oh! what a corrupted mind!"

Vermeer girl with the pearl earring

Vermeer girl with the pearl earring
virgin of the rocks
Woman with a Parasol
which made Fanny quite hate him, he said, "So! Rushworth and his fair bride are at Brighton, I understand; happy man!" ¡¡¡¡ "Yes, they have been there about a fortnight, Miss Price, have they not? And Julia is with them." ¡¡¡¡ "And Mr. Yates, I presume, is not far off." ¡¡¡¡ "Mr. Yates! Oh! we hear nothing of Mr. Yates. I do not imagine he figures much in the letters to Mansfield Park; do you, Miss Price? I think my friend Julia knows better than to
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entertain her father with Mr. Yates." ¡¡¡¡ "Poor Rushworth and his two-and-forty speeches!" continued Crawford. "Nobody can ever forget them. Poor fellow! I see him now--his toil and his despair. Well, I am much mistaken if his lovely Maria will ever want him to make two-and-forty speeches to her"; adding, with a momentary seriousness, "She is too good for him-- much too good." And then changing his tone again to one of gentle gallantry, and addressing Fanny, he said, "You were Mr. Rushworth's best friend. Your kindness and patience can never be forgotten, your

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at the conclusion of it than she had been before; and on this being evident, she was so kindly asked to call again, to take them in her walk whenever she could, to come and hear more of the harp, that she felt it necessary to be done, if no objection arose at home. ¡¡¡¡ Such was the origin of the sort of intimacy which took place between them within the first fortnight after the Miss Bertrams' going away--an intimacy resulting principally from Miss Crawford's
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desire of something new, and which had little reality in Fanny's feelings. Fanny went to her every two or three days: it seemed a kind of fascination: she could not be easy without going, and yet it was without loving her, without ever thinking like her, without any sense of obligation for being sought after now when nobody else was to be had; and deriving no higher pleasure from her conversation than occasional amusement, and _that_ often at the expense of her judgment, when it was raised by pleasantry on people or subjects which she wished to be respected. She went, however, and they sauntered about together many an half-hour in Mrs. Grant's shrubbery, the weather being unusually mild for the time of

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perfectly aware that none would be felt, and that in whatever cottage aunt Norris might chuse to establish her during the rain, her being in such cottage would be indubitable to aunt Bertram. ¡¡¡¡ It was beginning to look brighter, when Fanny, observing a harp in the room, asked some questions about it, which soon led to an acknowledgment of her wishing very much to hear it, and a confession, which could hardly be believed, of her having never yet heard it since its being in Mansfield. To Fanny herself it appeared a very simple and natural circumstance. She had scarcely ever been
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at the Parsonage since the instrument's arrival, there had been no reason that she should; but Miss Crawford, calling to mind an early expressed wish on the subject, was concerned at her own neglect; and "Shall I play to you now?" and "What will you have?" were questions immediately following with the readiest good-humour. ¡¡¡¡ She played accordingly; happy to have a new listener, and a listener who seemed so much obliged, so full of wonder at the performance, and who shewed herself not wanting in taste. She played till Fanny's eyes, straying to the window on the weather's being evidently fair, spoke what she felt must be done.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

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¡¡¡¡ _She_ could not equal them in their warmth. _Her_ spirits sank under the glow of theirs, and she felt herself becoming too nearly nothing to both to have any comfort in having been sought by either. They must now rehearse together. Edmund proposed, urged, entreated it, till the lady, not very unwilling at first, could refuse no longer, and Fanny was wanted only to prompt and observe them. She was invested, indeed, with the office of judge and critic,
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and earnestly desired to exercise it and tell them all their faults; but from doing so every feeling within her shrank--she could not, would not, dared not attempt it: had she been otherwise qualified for criticism, her conscience must have restrained her from venturing at disapprobation. She believed herself to feel too much of it in the aggregate for honesty or safety in particulars. To prompt them must be enough for her; and it was sometimes _more_ than enough; for she could not always pay attention to the book. In watching them she forgot herself; and, agitated by the increasing spirit of Edmund's manner, had once closed the

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They _did_ begin; and being too much engaged in their own noise to be struck by an unusual noise in the other part of the house, had proceeded some way when the door of the room was thrown open, and Julia, appearing at it, with a face all aghast, exclaimed, "My father is come! He is in the hall at this moment."¡¡¡¡CHAPTER XIX ¡¡¡¡ How is the consternation of the party to be described? To the greater number it was a moment of absolute horror. Sir Thomas in the house! All felt the instantaneous conviction. Not a hope of imposition or mistake was harboured anywhere. Julia's
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looks were an evidence of the fact that made it indisputable; and after the first starts and exclamations, not a word was spoken for half a minute: each with an altered countenance was looking at some other, and almost each was feeling it a stroke the most unwelcome, most ill-timed, most appalling! Mr. Yates might consider it only as a vexatious interruption for the evening, and Mr. Rushworth might imagine it a blessing; but every other heart was sinking under some degree of self-condemnation or undefined alarm, every other heart was suggesting, "What will become of us? what is to be done now?" It was a terrible pause; and terrible to every ear were the corroborating sounds of opening doors and passing footsteps.

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All were alert and impatient; the ladies moved soon, the gentlemen soon followed them, and with the exception of Lady Bertram, Mrs. Norris, and Julia, everybody was in the theatre at an early hour; and having lighted it up as well as its unfinished state admitted, were waiting only the arrival of Mrs. Grant and the Crawfords to begin. ¡¡¡¡ They did not wait long for the Crawfords, but there was no Mrs. Grant. She could not come. Dr. Grant, professing an indisposition, for which he had little credit with his fair sister-in-law, could not spare his wife. ¡¡¡¡ "Dr. Grant is ill," said she, with mock solemnity
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. "He has been ill ever since he did not eat any of the pheasant today. He fancied it tough, sent away his plate, and has been suffering ever since". ¡¡¡¡ Here was disappointment! Mrs. Grant's non-attendance was sad indeed. Her pleasant manners and cheerful conformity made her always valuable amongst them; but _now_ she was absolutely necessary. They could not act, they could not rehearse with any satisfaction without her. The comfort of the whole evening was

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page and turned away exactly as he wanted help. It was imputed to very reasonable weariness, and she was thanked and pitied; but she deserved their pity more than she hoped they would ever surmise. At last the scene was over, and Fanny forced herself to add her praise to the compliments each was giving the other; and when again alone and able to recall the whole, she was inclined to believe their performance would, indeed, have such nature and feeling in it as must ensure their credit, and make it a very suffering exhibition to herself. Whatever might be its effect, however, she must
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stand the brunt of it again that very day. ¡¡¡¡ The first regular rehearsal of the three first acts was certainly to take place in the evening: Mrs. Grant and the Crawfords were engaged to return for that purpose as soon as they could after dinner; and every one concerned was looking forward with eagerness. There seemed a general diffusion of cheerfulness on the occasion. Tom was enjoying such an advance towards the end; Edmund was in spirits from the morning's rehearsal, and little vexations seemed everywhere smoothed away

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Modern Art Painting

Modern Art Painting
Gustav Klimt The Kiss
Gustav Klimt Painting
William Bouguereau
Fanny's thoughts were now all engrossed by the two who had left her so long ago, and getting quite impatient, she resolved to go in search of them. She followed their steps along the bottom walk, and had just turned up into another, when the voice and the laugh of Miss Crawford once more caught her ear; the sound approached, and a few more windings brought them before her. They were just returned into the wilderness from the park, to which a sidegate, not fastened, had tempted them very soon after their leaving her, and they had been across a portion of the park into the
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avenue which Fanny had been hoping the whole morning to reach at last, and had been sitting down under one of the trees. This was their history. It was evident that they had been spending their time pleasantly, and were not aware of the length of their absence. Fanny's best consolation was in being assured that Edmund had wished for her very much, and that he should certainly have come back for her, had she not been tired already; but this was not quite sufficient to do away with the pain of

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William Bouguereau
The Birth of Venus
¡¡¡¡ "If I had made any difficulty about fetching the key, there might have been some excuse, but I went the very moment she said she wanted it." ¡¡¡¡ "Nothing could be more obliging than your manner, I am sure, and I dare say you walked as fast as you could; but still it is some distance, you know, from this spot to the house, quite into the house; and when people are waiting, they are bad judges of time, and every half minute seems like five." ¡¡¡¡ He go
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t up and walked to the gate again, and "wished he had had the key about him at the time." Fanny thought she discerned in his standing there an indication of relenting, which encouraged her to another attempt, and she said, therefore, "It is a pity you should not join them. They expected to have a better view of the house from that part of the park, and will be thinking how it may be improved; and nothing of that sort, you know, can be settled without you." ¡¡¡¡ She found herself more successful in sending away than in retaining a companion. Mr. Rushworth was worked on. "Well," said he, "if you really think I had better go: it would be foolish to bring the key for nothing." And letting himself out, he walked off without farther ceremony.

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I am very sorry," said she; "it is very unlucky." And she longed to be able to say something more to the purpose. ¡¡¡¡ After an interval of silence, "I think they might as well have staid for me," said he. ¡¡¡¡ "Miss Bertram thought you would follow her." ¡¡¡¡ "I should not have had to follow her if she had staid." ¡¡¡¡ This could not be denied,
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and Fanny was silenced. After another pause, he went on--"Pray, Miss Price, are you such a great admirer of this Mr. Crawford as some people are? For my part, I can see nothing in him." ¡¡¡¡ "I do not think him at all handsome." ¡¡¡¡ "Handsome! Nobody can call such an undersized man handsome. He is not five foot nine. I should not wonder if he is not more than five foot eight. I think he is an ill-looking fellow. In my opinion, these Crawfords are no addition at all. We did very well without them." ¡¡¡¡ A small sigh escaped Fanny here, and she did not know how to contradict him.

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¡¡¡¡ Their road was through a pleasant country; and Fanny, whose rides had never been extensive, was soon beyond her knowledge, and was very happy in observing all that was new, and admiring all that was pretty. She was not often invited to join in the conversation of the others, nor did she desire it. Her own thoughts and reflections were habitually her best companions; and, in observing the appearance of the country, the bearings of the roads,
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the difference of soil, the state of the harvest, the cottages, the cattle, the children, she found entertainment that could only have been heightened by having Edmund to speak to of what she felt. That was the only point of resemblance between her and the lady who sat by her: in everything but a value for Edmund, Miss Crawford was very unlike her. She had none of Fanny's delicacy of taste, of mind, of feeling; she saw Nature, inanimate Nature, with little

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Edmund was very thankful for an arrangement which restored him to his share of the party; and Mrs. Norris thought it an excellent plan, and had it at her tongue's end, and was on the point of proposing it, when Mrs. Grant spoke. ¡¡¡¡ Wednesday was fine, and soon after breakfast the barouche arrived, Mr. Crawford driving his sisters; and as everybody was ready, there was nothing to be done but for Mrs. Grant to alight and the others to take their places. The place of all places, the envied seat, the post of honour, was unappropriated. To whose happy lot was it to fall? While each o
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f the Miss Bertrams were meditating how best, and with the most appearance of obliging the others, to secure it, the matter was settled by Mrs. Grant's saying, as she stepped from the carriage, "As there are five of you, it will be better that one should sit with Henry; and as you were saying lately that you wished you could drive, Julia, I think this will be a good opportunity for you to take a lesson." ¡¡¡¡ Happy Julia! Unhappy Maria! The former was on the barouche-box in a moment, the latter took her seat within, in gloom and mortification; and the carriage drove off amid the good wishes of the two remaining ladies, and the barking of Pug in his mistress's arms.

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¡¡¡¡ "I am sure she ought to be very much obliged to you," added Julia, hastily leaving the room as she spoke, from a consciousness that she ought to offer to stay at home herself. ¡¡¡¡ "Fanny will feel quite as grateful as the occasion requires," was Edmund's only reply, and the subject dropt. ¡¡¡¡ Fanny's gratitude, when she heard the plan, was, in fact, much greater than her pleasure. She felt Edmund's kindness with all, and more than all, the sensibility
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which he, unsuspicious of her fond attachment, could be aware of; but that he should forego any enjoyment on her account gave her pain, and her own satisfaction in seeing Sotherton would be nothing without him. ¡¡¡¡ The next meeting of the two Mansfield families produced another alteration in the plan, and one that was admitted with general approbation. Mrs. Grant offered herself as companion for the day to Lady Bertram in lieu of her son, and Dr. Grant was to join them at dinner. Lady Bertram was very well pleased to have it so, and the young ladies were in spirits again. Even

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Norris had no affection for Fanny, and no wish of procuring her pleasure at any time; but her opposition to Edmund _now_, arose more from partiality for her own scheme, because it _was_ her own, than from anything else. She felt that she had arranged everything extremely well, and that any alteration must be for the worse. When Edmund, therefore, told her in reply, as he did when she would give him the hearing, that she need not distress herself on Mrs
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. Rushworth's account, because he had taken the opportunity, as he walked with her through the hall, of mentioning Miss Price as one who would probably be of the party, and had directly received a very sufficient invitation for his cousin, Mrs. Norris was too much vexed to submit with a very good grace, and would only say, "Very well, very well, just as you chuse, settle it your own way, I am sure I do not care about it." ¡¡¡¡ "It seems very odd," said Maria, "that you should be staying at home instead of Fanny."

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surrounded by men, attached myself to one of her daughters, walked by her side all the way home, and made myself as agreeable as I could; the young lady perfectly easy in her manners, and as ready to talk as to listen. I had not a suspicion that I could be doing anything wrong. They looked just the same: both well-dressed, with veils and parasols like other girls; but I afterwards found that I had been giving all my attention to the youngest, who
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was not _out_, and had most excessively offended the eldest. Miss Augusta ought not to have been noticed for the next six months; and Miss Sneyd, I believe, has never forgiven me." ¡¡¡¡ "That was bad indeed. Poor Miss Sneyd. "Though I have no younger sister, I feel for her. To be neglected before one's time must be very vexatious; but it was entirely the mother's fault. Miss Augusta should have been with her governess. Such half-and-half doings never prosper. But now I must be satisfied about Miss Price. Does she go to balls? Does she dine out every where, as well as at my sister's?"

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"I do not know," replied Miss Crawford hesitatingly. "Yes, I cannot agree with you there. It is certainly the modestest part of the business. It is much worse to have girls not out give themselves the same airs and take the same liberties as if they were, which I have seen done. That is worse than anything--quite disgusting!" ¡¡¡¡ "Yes, _that_ is very inconvenient indeed," said Mr. Bertram. "It leads one astray; one does not know what to do. The close bonnet and demure air you describe so well (and nothing was ever juster), tell one what is expected; but I got into a dreadful
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scrape last year from the want of them. I went down to Ramsgate for a week with a friend last September, just after my return from the West Indies. My friend Sneyd--you have heard me speak of Sneyd, Edmund-- his father, and mother, and sisters, were there, all new to me. When we reached Albion Place they were out; we went after them, and found them on the pier: Mrs. and the two Miss Sneyds, with others of their acquaintance. I made my bow in form; and as Mrs. Sneyd was

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oil painting from picture
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such an air! I did not see her again for a twelvemonth. She was then _out_. I met her at Mrs. Holford's, and did not recollect her. She came up to me, claimed me as an acquaintance, stared me out of countenance; and talked and laughed till I did not know which way to look. I felt that I must be the jest of the room at the time, and Miss Crawford, it is plain, has heard the story." ¡¡¡¡ "And a very pretty story it is, and with more truth in it, I dare say, than does credit to Miss Anderson. It is too common a fault. Mothers certainly have not yet got quite the right way of managing their daughters.
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I do not know where the error lies. I do not pretend to set people right, but I do see that they are often wrong." ¡¡¡¡ "Those who are showing the world what female manners _should_ be," said Mr. Bertram gallantly, "are doing a great deal to set them right." ¡¡¡¡ "The error is plain enough," said the less courteous Edmund; "such girls are ill brought up. They are given wrong notions from the beginning. They are always acting upon motives of vanity, and there is no more real modesty in their behaviour _before_ they appear in public than afterwards."

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and then lend them the pony he sent to the post. She could not but consider it as absolutely unnecessary, and even improper, that Fanny should have a regular lady's horse of her own, in the style of her cousins. She was sure Sir Thomas had never intended it: and she must say that, to be making such a purchase in his absence, and adding to the great expenses of his stable, at a time when a large part of his income was unsettled, seemed to her very unjustifiable.
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"Fanny must have a horse," was Edmund's only reply. Mrs. Norris could not see it in the same light. Lady Bertram did: she entirely agreed with her son as to the necessity of it, and as to its being considered necessary by his father; she only pleaded against there being any hurry; she only wanted him to wait till Sir Thomas's return, and then Sir Thomas might settle it all himself. He would be at home in September, and where would be the harm of only waiting till September?

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mona lisa smile
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the sacrifice of any real pleasure, that time, of course, never came. They took their cheerful rides in the fine mornings of April and May; and Fanny either sat at home the whole day with one aunt, or walked beyond her strength at the instigation of the other: Lady Bertram holding exercise to be as unnecessary for everybody as it was unpleasant to herself; and Mrs. Norris, who was walking all day, thinking everybody ought to walk as much. Edmund was absent at this
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time, or the evil would have been earlier remedied. When he returned, to understand how Fanny was situated, and perceived its ill effects, there seemed with him but one thing to be done; and that "Fanny must have a horse" was the resolute declaration with which he opposed whatever could be urged by the supineness of his mother, or the economy of his aunt, to make it appear unimportant. Mrs. Norris could not help thinking that some steady old thing might be found among the numbers belonging to the Park that would do vastly well; or that one might be borrowed of the steward; or that perhaps Dr. Grant might now

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virgin of the rocks
Woman with a Parasol
The Sacrifice of Abraham painting
The Three Ages of Woman
The Virgin and Child with St Anne
The holiday allowed to the Miss Bertrams the next day, on purpose to afford leisure for getting acquainted with, and entertaining their young cousin, produced little union. They could not but hold her cheap on finding that she had but two sashes, and had never learned French; and when they perceived her to be little struck with the duet they were so good as to play, they could do no more than make her a generous present of some of their least valued toys, and leave her to herself, while they adjourned to whatever might be the favourite holiday sport of the moment,
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making artificial flowers or wasting gold paper. ¡¡¡¡ Fanny, whether near or from her cousins, whether in the schoolroom, the drawing-room, or the shrubbery, was equally forlorn, finding something to fear in every person and place. She was disheartened by Lady Bertram's silence, awed by Sir Thomas's grave looks, and quite overcome by Mrs. Norris's admonitions. Her elder cousins mortified her by reflections on her size, and abashed her by noticing her shyness: Miss Lee wondered at her ignorance, and the maid-servants sneered at her clothes; and when to these sorrows was added the idea of the brothers and sisters among whom she had always been important as playfellow, instructress, and nurse, the despondence that sunk her little heart was severe.

The Painter's Honeymoon

The Painter's Honeymoon
the polish rider
The Sacrifice of Abraham painting
The Three Ages of Woman
¡¡¡¡ "This is not a very promising beginning," said Mrs. Norris, when Fanny had left the room. "After all that I said to her as we came along, I thought she would have behaved better; I told her how much might depend upon her acquitting herself well at first. I wish there may not be a little sulkiness of temper--her poor mother had a good deal; but we must make allowances for such a child--and I do not know that her being sorry to leave her home is really
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against her, for, with all its faults, it _was_ her home, and she cannot as yet understand how much she has changed for the better; but then there is moderation in all things." ¡¡¡¡ It required a longer time, however, than Mrs. Norris was inclined to allow, to reconcile Fanny to the novelty of Mansfield Park, and the separation from everybody she had been used to. Her feelings were very acute, and too little understood to be properly attended to. Nobody meant to be unkind, but nobody put themselves out of their way to secure her comfort.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Regatta At Argenteuil

Regatta At Argenteuil
Rembrandt Biblical Scene
Rembrandt The Jewish Bride
Return of the Prodigal Son
¡¡¡¡`Yes; I wanted you to see how the comfort of all depends on each doing her share faithfully. While Hannah and I did your work you got on pretty well, though I don't think you were very happy or amiable; so I thought, as a little lesson, I would show you what happens when everyone thinks only of herself. Don't you feel that it is pleasanter to help one another, to have dally duties which make leisure sweet when it comes, and to bear and forbear, that
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home may be comfortable and lovely to us all?' ¡¡¡¡`We do, Mother, we do!' cried the girls. ¡¡¡¡`Then let me advise you to take up your little burdens again; for though they seem heavy sometimes, they are good for us, and lighten as we learn to carry them. Work is wholesome, and there is plenty for everyone; it keeps us from ennui an mischief, is good for health and spirits, and gives us a sense of power and independence better than money or fashion.' ¡¡¡¡`We'll work like bees, and love it too; see if we don't!' said Jo. `I'll learn plain cooking for my holiday task; and the next dinner-party I have shall be a success.'

Rembrandt The Jewish Bride

Rembrandt The Jewish Bride
Return of the Prodigal Son
Samson And Delilah
seated nude
¡¡¡¡`Not a bit like home,' added Amy. ¡¡¡¡`It can't seem so without Marmee and little Pip,' sighed Beth, glancing with full eyes at the empty cage above her head. ¡¡¡¡`Here's Mother, dear; and you shall have another bird tomorrow, if you want it.' ¡¡¡¡As she spoke, Mrs. March came and took her place among them, looking as if her holiday had not been much pleasanter than theirs. ¡¡¡¡`Are you satisfied with your experiment, girls, or do you want another week of it?' she asked, as Beth nestled up to her, and the rest turned towards her with brightening faces, as flowers turn towards the sun.
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¡¡¡¡`I don't,' cried Jo, decidedly. ¡¡¡¡`Nor I,' echoed the others. ¡¡¡¡`You think, then, that it is better to have a few duties, and live a little for others, do you?' ¡¡¡¡`Longing and larking doesn't pay,' observed Jo, shaking her head. `I'm tired of it, and mean to go to work at something right off.' ¡¡¡¡`Suppose you learn plain cooking; that's a useful accomplishment which no woman should be without,' said Mrs. March, laughing inaudibly at the recollection of Jo's dinner-party; for she had met Miss Crocker, and heard her account of it. ¡¡¡¡`Mother, did you go away and let everything be, just to see how we'd get on?' cried Meg, who had had suspicions all day.

Spring Breeze

Spring Breeze
Sweet Nothings
The Abduction of Psyche
The British Are Coming
¡¡¡¡At the conclusion of the ceremonies, Beth retired to her room, overcome with emotion and lobster; but there was no place of repose, for the beds were not made, and she found her grief much assuaged by beating up pillows and putting things in order. Meg helped Jo clear away the remains of the feast, which took half the afternoon, and left them so tired that they agreed to be contented with tea and toast for supper. Laurie took Amy for a drive, which was a deed of charity, for the sour cream seemed to have had a bad effect upon her temper. Mrs. March came home to find the three
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older girls hard at work in the middle of the afternoon, and a glance at the closet gave her an idea of the success of one part of the experiment. ¡¡¡¡Before the housewives could rest several people called, and there was a scramble to get ready to see them; then tea must be got, errands done; and one or two necessary bits of sewing neglected till the last minute. As twilight fell, dewy and still, one by one they gathered in the porch where the June roses were budding beautifully, and each groaned or sighed as she sat down as if tired or troubled. ¡¡¡¡`What a dreadful day this has been!' began Jo, usually the first to speak. ¡¡¡¡`It has seemed shorter than usual, but so uncomfortable,' said Meg.

The Broken Pitcher

The Broken Pitcher
The Jewel Casket
The Kitchen Maid
The Lady of Shalott
¡¡¡¡Jo uttered a groan, and fell back in her chair; remembering that she had given a last hasty powdering to the berries out of one of the two boxes on the kitchen table, and had neglected to put the milk in the refrigerator. She turned scarlet, and was on the verge of crying, when she met Laurie's eyes, which would look merry in spite of his heroic efforts; the comical side of the affair suddenly struck her, and she laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. So did everyone else, even `Croaker', as the girls called the old lady; and the unfortunate dinner ended gaily, with bread and butter,
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olives, and fun. ¡¡¡¡`I haven't strength of mind enough to clear up now, so we will sober ourselves with a funeral,' said Jo, as they rose; and Miss Crocker made ready to go, being eager to tell the new story at another friend's dinner-table. They did sober themselves for Beth's sake; Laurie dug a grave under the ferns in the grove, little Pip was laid in, with many tears, by his tender-hearted mistress, and covered with moss, while a wreath of violets and chickweed was hung on the stone which bore his epitaph, composed by Jo while she struggled with the dinner: ¡¡¡¡Here lies Pip March, ¡¡¡¡Who died the 7th of June; ¡¡¡¡Loved and lamented sore, ¡¡¡¡And not forgotten soon.

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picture of the last supper
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¡¡¡¡Laurie went by in the afternoon, and, seeing Meg at the window, seemed suddenly possessed with a melodramatic fit, for he fell down upon one knee in the snow, beat his breast, tore his hair, and clasped his hands imploringly, as if begging some boon; and when Meg told him to behave himself and go away, he wrung imaginary tears out of his handkerchief, and staggered round the corner as if in utter despair. ¡¡¡¡`What does the goose mean?' said Meg, laughing,
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and trying to look unconscious. ¡¡¡¡`He's showing you how your John will go on by and by. Touching, isn't it?' answered Jo, scornfully. ¡¡¡¡`Don't say my John, it isn't proper or true'; but Meg's voice lingered over the words as if they sounded pleasant to her. `Please don't plague me, Jo; I've told you I don't care much about him, and there isn't to be anything said, but we are all to be friendly, and go on as before.'

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leonardo da vinci last supper painting
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leonardo da vinci the last supper
¡¡¡¡Like bees swarming after their queen, mother and daughters hovered about Mr. March the next day, neglecting everything to look at, wait upon, and listen to the new invalid, who was in a fair way to be killed by kindness. As he sat propped up in a big chair by Beth's sofa, with the other three close by, and Hannah popping in her head now and then to "peek at the dear man", nothing seemed needed to complete their happiness. But something was needed,
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and the elder ones felt it, though none confessed the fact. Mr. and Mrs. March looked at one another with an anxious expression, as their eyes followed Meg. Jo had sudden fits of sobriety, and was seen to shake her fist at Mr. Brooke's umbrella, which had been left in the hall; Meg was absent-minded, shy, and silent, started when the bell rang, and coloured when John's name was mentioned; Amy said, `Everyone seemed waiting for something, and couldn't settle down, which was queer, since Father was safe at home,' and Beth innocently wondered why their neighbours didn't run over as usual.

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¡¡¡¡`I understand, Mother, and quite agree; but I'm disappointed about Meg, for I'd planned to have her marry Teddy by and by, and sit in the lap of luxury all her days. Wouldn't it be nice?' asked Jo, looking up, with a brighter face. ¡¡¡¡`He is younger than she, you know,' began Mrs. March; but Jo broke in: `Only a little; he's old for his age, and tall; and can be quite grown-up in his manners if he likes. Then he's rich and generous and good, and loves us all; and I say it's a pity my plan is spoilt.' ¡¡¡¡`I'm afraid Laurie is hardly grown up enough to Meg, and altogether too much of a weathercock,
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just now, for anyone to depend on. Don't make plans, Jo; but let time and their own hearts mate your friends. We can't meddle safely in such matters, and had better not get "romantic rubbish", as you call it, into our heads, lest it spoil our friendship.' ¡¡¡¡`Well, I won't; but I hate to see things going all criss-cross and getting snarled up, when a pull here and a snip there would straighten it out. I wish wearing flat-irons on our heads would keep us from growing up. But buds will be roses, and kittens, cats - more's the pity!'

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that she shall not bind herself in any way, nor be married, before twenty. If she and John love one another, they can wait, and test the love by doing so. She is conscientious, and I have no fear of her treating him unkindly. My pretty, tender-hearted girl! I hope things will go happily with her.' ¡¡¡¡`Hadn't you rather have her marry a rich man?' asked Jo, as her mother's voice faltered a little over the last words. ¡¡¡¡`Money is a good and useful thing, Jo; and I hope my girls will never feel the need of it too bitterly, nor be tempted by too much. I should like to know that John was firmly established i
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n some good business, which gave him an income large enough to keep free from debt and make Meg comfortable. I'm not ambitious for a splendid fortune, a fashionable position, or a great name for my girls. If rank and money come with love and virtue, also, I should accept them gratefully, and enjoy your good fortune; but I know, by experience, how much genuine happiness can be had in a plain little house, where the dally bread is earned, and some privations give sweetness to the few pleasures. I am content to see Meg begin humbly, for, if I am not mistaken, she will be rich in the possession of a good man's heart, and that is better than a fortune.'

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oil painting from picture
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her. She read the short reports he sent more than she did your letters, and pinched me when I spoke of it, and likes brown eyes, and doesn't think John an ugly name, and she'll go and fall in love, and there's an end of peace and fun, and cosy times together. I see it all! they'll go lovering around the house, and we shall have to dodge; Meg will be absorbed, and no good to me any more; Brooke will scratch up a fortune somehow, carry her off, and make a hole in the family; and I shall break my heart, and everything will be abominably uncomfortable. Oh, dear me! why weren't
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we all boys, then there wouldn't be any bother.' Jo leaned her chin on her knees, in a disconsolate attitude, and shook her fist at the represhensible John. Mrs. March sighed, and Jo looked up with an air of relief. ¡¡¡¡`You don't like it, Mother? I'm glad of it. Let's send him about his business, and not tell Meg a word of it, but all be happy together as we always have been.' ¡¡¡¡`I did wrong to sigh, Jo. It is natural and right you should all go to homes of your own, in time; but I do want to keep my girls as long as I can; and I am sorry that this happened so soon, for Meg is only seventeen, and it will be some years before John can make a home for her. Your father and I have agreed

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¡¡¡¡Dear Mis March - I jes drop a line to say we git on fust rate. The girls is clever and fly round right smart. Miss Meg is going to make a proper good housekeeper; she hes the liking for it, and gits the hang of things surprisin quick. Jo doos beat all for going ahead, but she don't stop to cal'k'late fust, and you never know where she's like to bring up. She done out a tub of clothes on Monday, but she starched em afore they was wrenched, and blued a pink calico dress till I thought I should a died a laughin. Beth is the best of little creeters, and a sight of help to me, bein so forehanded and dependable. She tries to learn everything, and really goes to market beyond her years; likewise keeps accounts,
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with my help, quite wonderful. We have got on very economical so fur; I don't let the girls hev coffee only once a week, accordin to your wish, and keep em on plain wholesome vittles. Amy does well about frettin, wearin her best clothes and eatin sweet stuff. Mr. Laurie is as full of didoes as usual, and turns the house upside down frequent; but he heartens up the girls, and so I let em hev full swing. The old gentleman sends heaps of things, and is rather wearin, but means wal, and it aint my place to say nothin. My bread is riz, so no more at this time. I send my duty to Mr. March, and hope he's seen the last of his Pewmonia - Yours Respectful,

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¡¡¡¡Ma Chere Mamma - We are all well I do my lessons always and never corroberate the girls - Meg says I mean contradick so I put in both words and you can take the properest. Meg is a great comfort to me and lets me have jelly every night at tea its so good for me Jo says because it keeps me sweet tempered. Laurie is not as respeckful as he ought to be now I am almost in my teens, he calls me Chick and hurts my feelings by talking French to me very fast when I
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say Merci or Bon jour as Hattie King does. The sleeves of my blue dress were all worn out, and Meg put in new ones, but the full front came wrong and they are more blue than the dress. I felt bad but did not fret I bear my troubles well but I do wish Hannah would put more starch in my aprons and have buckwheats every day. Can't she? Didn't I make that interrigation point nice? Meg says my punchtuation and spelling are disgraceful and I am mortyfied but dear me I have so many things to do, I can't stop. Adieu, I send heaps of love to papa - Your affectionate daughter ¡¡¡¡Amy Curtis March.

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¡¡¡¡Of sorrow or care or gloom; ¡¡¡¡And anxious thoughts may be swept away, ¡¡¡¡As we bravely wield a broom. ¡¡¡¡I am glad a task to me is given, ¡¡¡¡To labour at day by day; ¡¡¡¡For it brings me health and strength and hope, ¡¡¡¡And I cheerfully learn to say, - ¡¡¡¡`Head, you may think, Heart, you may feel, ¡¡¡¡But, Hand, you shall work alway!' ¡¡¡¡Dear Mother - There is only room for me to send my love and some pressed pansies from the root I have been keeping
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safe in the house for Father to see. I read every morning, try to be good all day, and sing myself to sleep with Father's tune. I can't sing `Land of the Leal' now; it makes me cry. Everyone is very kind, and we are as happy as we can be without you. Amy wants the rest of the page, so I must stop. I didn't forget to cover the holders, and I wind the clock and air the rooms every day. ¡¡¡¡Kiss dear Father on the cheek he calls mine. Oh, do come soon to your loving ¡¡¡¡Little Beth.

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abstract seascape painting
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Laurence watches over us like a motherly old hen, as Jo says; and Laurie is very kind and neighbourly. He and Jo keep us merry, for we get pretty blue sometimes, and feel like orphans, with you so far away. Hannah is a perfect saint; she does not scold at all, and always calls me Miss `Margaret', which is quite proper, you know, and treats me with respect. We are all well and busy; but we long day and night to have you back. Give my dearest love to Father, and believe me, ever your own. ¡¡¡¡Meg. ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡This note, prettily written on scented paper, was a great contrast to the
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next, which was scribbled on a big sheet of thin foreign paper, ornamented with blots and all manner of flourishes and curly-tailed letters: ¡¡¡¡was in the right. He didn't come; and just at night I remembered what you said when Amy fell into the river. I read my little book, felt better, resolved not to let the sun set on my anger, and ran over to tell Laurie I was sorry. I met him at the gate, coming for the same thing. We both laughed, begged each other's pardon, and felt all good and comfortable again. ¡¡¡¡I made a `pome' yesterday, when I was helping Hannah wash; and, as Father likes my silly little things, I put it in to amuse him. Give him the lovingest hug that ever was, and kiss yourself a dozen times for your ¡¡¡¡Topsy-Turvy Jo.

Marc Chagall Painting

Marc Chagall Painting
Henri Matisse Painting
Van Gogh Painting
Van Gogh Sunflower
¡¡¡¡`I wish I was a horse; then I could run for miles in this splendid air, and not lose my breath. It was capital; but see what a guy it's made me. Go, pick up my things, like a cherub as you are,' said Jo, dropping down under a maple-tree which was carpeting the bank with crimson leaves. ¡¡¡¡Laurie leisurely departed to recover the lost property, and Jo bundled up her braids, hoping no one would pass by till she was tidy again. But someone did pass by, and who should it be but Meg, looking particularly ladylike in her state and festival suit, for she had been making calls. ¡¡¡¡`What in the
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world are you doing here?' she asked, regarding her dishevelled sister with well-bred surprise. ¡¡¡¡`Getting leaves,' meekly answered Jo, sorting the rosy handful she had just swept up. ¡¡¡¡`And hairpins,' added Laurie, throwing half a dozen into Jo's lap. `They grow on this road, Meg; so do combs and brown straw hats.' ¡¡¡¡`You have been running, Jo; how could you? When will you be stopping such romping ways?' said Meg, reprovingly, as she settled her cuffs, and smoothed her hair, with which the wind had taken liberties.

Mary Cassatt painting

Mary Cassatt painting
Jack Vettriano Painting
The Singing Butler
Yes; isn't that romantic?' ¡¡¡¡`No, it's horrid.' ¡¡¡¡`Don't you like it?' ¡¡¡¡`Of course I don't. It's ridiculous; it won't be allowed. My patience! what would Meg say?' ¡¡¡¡`You are not to tell anyone; mind that.' ¡¡¡¡`I didn't promise.' ¡¡¡¡`That was understood, and I trusted you.' ¡¡¡¡`Well, I won't for the present, anyway; but I'm disgusted, and wish you hadn't told me.' ¡¡¡¡`I thought you'd be pleased.' ¡¡¡¡`At the idea of anybody coming to take Meg away? No, thank you.' ¡¡¡¡`You'll feel better about it when somebody comes to take you away.' ¡¡¡¡`I'd like to see anyone try it,' cried Jo, fiercely. ¡¡¡¡`So
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should I!' and Laurie chuckled at the idea. ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡`I don't think secrets agree with me; I feel rumpled up in my mind since you told me that,' said Jo, rather ungratefully. ¡¡¡¡`Race down this hill with me, and you'll be all right,' suggested Laurie. ¡¡¡¡No one was in sight; the smooth road sloped invitingly before her; and finding the temptation irresistible, Jo darted away, soon leaving hat and comb behind her, and scattering hairpins as she ran. Laurie reached the goal first, and was quite satisfied with the success of his treatment; for his Atalanta came panting up, with flying hair, bright eyes, ruddy cheeks, and no signs of dissatisfaction in her face.

Henri Matisse Painting

Henri Matisse Painting
Van Gogh Painting
Van Gogh Sunflower
Edward Hopper Painting
¡¡¡¡`Hush! It won't come to anything, I dare say; but I couldn't rest till I had tried, and I said nothing about it, because I didn't want anyone else to be disappointed.' ¡¡¡¡`It won't fail. Why, Jo, your stories are works of Shakespeare, compared to half the rubbish that is published every day. Won't it be fun to see them in print; and shan't we feel proud of our authoress?' ¡¡¡¡Jo's eyes sparkled, for it is always pleasant to be believed in; and a friend's praise is always sweeter than a dozen newspaper puffs. ¡¡¡¡`Where's your secret? Play fair, Teddy, or I'll never believe you again,' she said,
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trying to extinguish the brilliant hopes that blazed up at a word of encouragement. ¡¡¡¡`I may get into a scrape for telling; but I didn't promise not to, so I will, for I never feel easy in my mind till I've told you any plummy bit of news I get. I know where Meg's glove is.' ¡¡¡¡`Is that all?' said Jo, looking disappointed, as Laurie nodded and twinkled, with a face full of mysterious intelligence. `It's quite enough for the present, as you'll agree when I tell you where it is.' ¡¡¡¡`Tell then.' ¡¡¡¡Laurie bent, and whispered three words in Jo's ear, which produced a comical change. She stood and stared at him for a minute, looking both surprised and displeased, then walked on, saying sharply, `How do you know?'

Monday, January 21, 2008

painting in oil

painting in oil
oil painting for sale
monet painting
Make this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes of your own if they are offered you, and contented here if they are not. One thing remember, my girls; Mother is always ready to be your confidante, Father to be your friend; and both of us trust and hope that our daughters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort of our lives.' ¡¡¡¡`We will, Marmee, we will!' cried both, with all their hearts, as she bade them good night. ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡chapter 10 The P.C. And P.O. ¡¡¡¡As spring came on, a new set of amusements became the fashion, and the lengthening days gave long afternoons
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for work and play of all sorts. The garden had to be put in order, and each sister had a quarter of the little plot to do what she liked with. Hannah used to say, `I'd know which each of them gardings belonged to, ef I see 'em in Chiny'; and so she might, for the girls' tastes differed as much as their characters. Meg's had roses and heliotrope, myrtle, and a little orange tree in it. Jo's bed was never alike two seasons, for she was always trying experiments; this year it was to be a plantation of sunflowers, the seeds of which cheerful and aspiring plant were to feed `Aunt Cockle-top' and her family of chicks. Beth had old

mona lisa painting

mona lisa painting
canvas painting
animal painting
painting in oil
you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy. My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world - marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious thing - and, when well used, a noble thing - but I never want you to think of it as the first or only prize to strive for. I'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy,
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beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace.' ¡¡¡¡`Poor girls don't stand any chance, Belle says, unless they put themselves forward,' sighed Meg. ¡¡¡¡`Then we'll be old maids,' said Jo, stoutly. ¡¡¡¡`Right, Jo; better be happy old maids than unhappy wives or unmaidenly girls, running about to find husbands,' said Mrs. March, decidedly. `Don't be troubled, Meg; poverty seldom daunts a sincere lover. Some of the best and most honoured women I know were poor girls, but so love-worthy that they were not allowed to be old maids. Leave these things to time.

famous painting

famous painting
claude monet painting
mona lisa painting
Yes, my dear, I have a great many; all mothers do, but mine differ somewhat from Mrs. Moffat's, I suspect. I will tell you some of them, for the time has come when a word may set this romantic little head and heart of yours right on a very serious subject. You are young, Meg, but not too young to understand me; and mother's lips are the fittest to speak of such things to girls like you. Jo, your turn will come in time, perhaps, so listen to my "plans", and help me carry them out if they are good.' ¡¡¡¡Jo went and sat on one arm of the chair, looking as if she thought they were about to join in
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some very solemn affair. Holding a hand of each, and watching the two young faces wistfully, Mrs. March said, in her serious yet cheery way: ¡¡¡¡`I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good; to be admired, loved, and respected; to have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman; and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience. It is natural to think of it, Meg; right to hope and wait for it, and wise to prepare for it; so that, when the happy time comes,

Modern Art Painting

Modern Art Painting
Gustav Klimt The Kiss
Gustav Klimt Painting
William Bouguereau
¡¡¡¡Jo heard, but Amy was just struggling to her feet, and did not catch a word. Jo glanced over her shoulder, and the little demon she was harbouring said in her ear: `No matter whether she heard or not, let her take care of herself.' Laurie had vanished round the bend; Jo was just at the turn, and Amy, far behind, striking out towards the smoother ice in the middle of the river. For a minute Jo stood still, with a strange feeling at her heart; then she resolved to go
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on, but something held and turned her round, just in time to see Amy throw up her hands and go down, with a sudden crash of rotten ice, the splash of water, and a cry that made Jo's heart stand still with fear. She tried to call Laurie, but her voice was gone; she tried to rush forward, but her feet seemed to have no strength in them; and, for a second, she could only stand motionless, staring, with a terror-stricken face, at the little blue hood above the black water. Something rushed swiftly by her, and Laurie's voice cried out: `Bring a rail; quick, quick!'

Gustav Klimt Painting

Gustav Klimt Painting
William Bouguereau
The Birth of Venus
Marc Chagall Painting
¡¡¡¡`I'll try,' said Amy, for the advice suited her; and, after a flurry to get ready, she ran after the friends, who were just disappearing over the hill. It was not far to the river, but both were ready before Amy reached them. Jo saw her coming, and turned her back; Laurie did not see, for he was carefully skating along the shore, sounding the ice, for a warm spell had preceded the cold snap. ¡¡¡¡`I'll go on to the first bend, and see if it's all right, before
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we begin to race,' Amy heard him say, as he shot away, looking like a young Russian, in his fur-trimmed coat and cap. Jo heard Amy panting after her run, stamping her feet and blowing her fingers, as she tried to put her skates on; but Jo never turned, and went slowly zigzagging down the river, taking a bitter, unhappy sort of satisfaction in her sister's troubles. She had cherished her anger till it grew strong, and took possession of her, as evil thoughts and feelings always do, unless cast out at once. As Laurie turned the bend, he shouted back: `Keep near the shore, it isn't safe in the middle.'

Marc Chagall Painting

Marc Chagall Painting
Henri Matisse Painting
Van Gogh Painting
Van Gogh Sunflower
¡¡¡¡It was bitter cold in the morning, she dropped her precious turnover in the gutter, Aunt March had an attack of fidgets, Meg was pensive, Beth would look grieved and wistful when she got home, and Amy kept making remarks about people who were always talking about being good, and yet wouldn't try, when other people set them a virtuous example. ¡¡¡¡`Everybody is so hateful, I'll ask Laurie to go skating. He is always kind and jolly, and will put me to rights, I know,' said Jo to herself, and off she went. ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡Amy heard the clash of skates, and looked out with an impatient exclamation:
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`There! she promised I should go next time, for this is the last ice we shall have. But it's no use to ask such a cross-patch to take me.' ¡¡¡¡`Don't say that; you were very naughty, and it is hard to forgive the loss of her precious little book; but I think she might do it now, and I guess she will, if you try her at the right minute,' said Meg. `Go after them; don't say anything till Jo has got good-natured with Laurie, then take a quiet minute, and just kiss her, or do some kind thing, and I'm sure she'll be friends again with all her heart.'

precious time

precious time
Red Hat Girl
Red Nude painting
Regatta At Argenteuil
That settled it; and, telling him of Meg's mishap, Jo gratefully accepted, and rushed up to bring down the rest of the party. Hannah hated rain as much as a cat does; so she made no trouble, and they rolled away in the luxurious close carriage, feeling very festive and elegant. Laurie went on the box; so Meg could keep her foot up, and the girls talked over their party in freedom. ¡¡¡¡`I had a capital time. Did you?' asked Jo, rumpling up her hair, and making
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herself comfortable. ¡¡¡¡`Yes, till I hurt myself. Sallies friend, Annie Moffat, took a fancy to me, and asked me to come and spend a week with her when Sallie does. She is going in the spring, when the opera comes; and it will be perfectly splendid, if Mother only lets me go,' answered Meg, cheering up at the thought. ¡¡¡¡`I saw you with the red-headed man I ran away from. ¡¡¡¡Was he nice?' ¡¡¡¡`Oh, very! His hair is auburn, not red; and he is very polite.'