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From: | Norman Avila |
Subject: | [epsilon-announce] Good Book paddle |
Date: | Fri, 8 Sep 2006 18:36:10 +0200 |
Then he took to shouldering his way along the
walls, supporting himselfby the furniture.
And, thereafter, his resting-place was
indistinguishable fromthe common ground. He has altered greatly since, but I would
much rather rear aplatypus than a boy.
Inhealth, in the bustle of living, it was easy to
believe in heaven and alife to come. Im a bit that way myself: it runs in
ourfamily.
She had sunk underthem when her child died; she
knew them now, still more fiercely. Never let it be said that I ever said anything
derogatory of thatparrot-brained Gorgon.
To seethem sorry gradually made him sorry, too.
Soshe handed out their return-fares and paid their bill, gladly
I said, I suppose hell need to take his lunch;
orperhaps he can get lunch over there.
But then came that awful afternoon when How long
she sat thus she did not know: she had lost count of time.
By seven of a morning, he was washed and dressed
and fed.
Open-mouthed, aghast,Cuffy heard his
doom.
Mentally I gave him thechoice of a kewpie doll or
an aluminium saucepan. Of course this elephant talk was all damnedrot. However there
was no one to look at me so I lit mypipe instead. Mealies and kopjes and veldts and
things.
On all sides the eye can range, unhindered, towhere
the vast earth meets the infinitely vaster sky.
Richard would have been the last to wish
it.
On the third, the doctor gave it as hisopinion that
he would not outlive the night. It came jumpingout of him, in great big
sobs.
If I show you this, father, will you swear by all
you hold sacred tokeep it secret? The poor boy is going to South Africa to try to
forget.
You must not speak like that of my future
wife!
That crouch ready to spring and tear one limb from
limb withtheir claws! But reallythey always went the same road, the one that led
straight out of thetownship. But it was no use asking him the time,because he said
such funny things. The poor boy is going to South Africa to try to forget. Cuffy
never failed to ask this, as a sop to his conscience. And then, all of a sudden,
quite suddenly Papa fell down. He is going away, wailed Agatha, he is leaving his
home!
How much, I never guessed but knowing what ayoung
hound he was I began to feel perturbed.
Then he took to shouldering his way along the
walls, supporting himselfby the furniture.
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