Tuesday, December 27, 2005


Originally uploaded by mquest foto.
He was almost there, when... Smash! Crash! Bash! He slid down and mashed into engine hash the little engine that almost could.
Shel Silverstein

The patting at once grew louder in encouragement and then ceased altogether.
Gabriel leaned his ten trembling fingers on the tablecloth and smiled nervously at the company. Meeting a row of upturned faces he raised his eyes to the chandelier. The piano was playing a waltz tune and he could hear the skirts sweeping against the drawing-room door. People, perhaps, were standing in the snow on the quay outside, gazing up at the lighted windows and listening to the waltz music. The air was pure there. In the distance lay the park where the trees were weighted with snow. The Wellington Monument wore a gleaming cap of snow that flashed westward over the white field of Fifteen Acres.

James Joyce The Dead

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