text:
I'm a dreamer....
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24 • Dallas, TX • Man
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- Ages 20–27
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- For new friends, long-term dating, short-term dating
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- Last online
- May 20, 2013
- Orientation
- Straight
- Ethnicity
- Hispanic / Latin
- Height
- 5′ 6″ (1.68m)
- Body type
- Average
- Diet
- Mostly anything
- Smokes
- No
- Drinks
- Rarely
- Drugs
- Never
- Religion
- Catholicism, and somewhat serious about it
- Sign
- Gemini, but it doesn't matter
- Education
- Working on university
- Job
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- Rather not say
- Status
- Single
- Type
- —
- Offspring
- Doesn't have kids
- Pets
- Likes dogs and likes cats
- Speaks
- English (Fluently), French (Poorly), Sign Language (Okay), Spanish (Okay)
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My self-summary
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What I'm doing with my life
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Interior design student, I volunteer in my spare time. I'm stuck between grad school or the Peace Corps after I graduate.
I'm really good at
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Building furniture
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My hair, I'm either groomed or have pillow hair
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The Last Lecture, Life of Pi, The Stranger, On The Road..
Star Wars, LOTR Trilogy, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind, Spirited Away, Black Hawk Down, Minority Report
The Last Lecture, Life of Pi, The Stranger, On The Road..
Star Wars, LOTR Trilogy, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind, Spirited Away, Black Hawk Down, Minority Report
On a typical Friday night I am
Netflix and takeout, or getting your party on — how do you let loose?
Reading a book, watching a movie, or playing video games.
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text: > - repeatable builds it exists in rebar > - declarative version management it exists in rebar > - it is a de facto standard for dependency management in Java world, > therefore thousands of java libs and other artifacts are available for > maven users is it a pro? I really don't care about Java users. It is their problem that they still have to use Java with its horrible infrastructure. > - ability to integrate traditional build tools into maven workflow (ant, make) Great. You have two megabytes of XML for Maven that allows you to include 20 megabytes of XML for Ant. Good tool. > - ability to combine public/private repositories it exists in rebar. > - automatic deployment of build artefacts into repository, if desired it exists in rebar > - extensibility through plugins it exists in rebar. > > It is true that XML is not the best format In fact it is the worsests declarative format. > but hey, maven was created at the times when XML seemed like a good > idea and sincerely, it is not The Issue with the tool that is worth > using as a way to refuse it. Yes, but rebar can do _everything_ that maven do with a simple and easy-to-edit config file.

subset: commoncrawl


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Drive roads that double as destinations from the Cherohala Skyway to the Outer Banks Byway.
North Carolina offers 400-plus golf courses across the state with temperatures that allow play year-round.
With roots in moonshine, several distillers continue the tradition of making white whiskey, as well as vodka, gin and rum.
This area is an outdoor playground year-round, including some of the best camping, hiking, biking and fishing around.
The Triad cities and their neighboring towns are rich in history and culture.
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Plan your getaway around a signature event or find out what's happening during your visit. From quick weekend trips to longer stays, you might watch a hammer throw competition at the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games, sample sounds where they were born at the John Coltrane International Jazz and Blues Festival, go for the top prize in the Big Rock Blue Marlin Fishing Tournament, or enjoy seasonal events like July 4th celebrations and Christmas light displays.
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Southern Pines area
The Pinehurst, Southern Pines, Aberdeen Area Convention & Visitors Bureau is the official source for meeting and visitor information for Moore County.
Known for its spacious beach and crystal clear waters, Wrightsville Beach is full of outdoor activities perfect for spring. Wrightsville Beach was…
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text:
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text:
A destiny that leads the English to the Dutch is strange enough; but one that leads from Epsom into Pennsylvania, and thence into the hills that shut in Altamont over the proud coral cry of the cock, and the soft stone smile of an angel, is touched by that dark miracle of chance which makes new magic in a dusty world.
Each of us is all the sums he has not counted: subtract us into nakedness and night again, and you shall see begin in Crete four thousand years ago the love that ended yesterday in Texas.
The seed of our destruction will blossom in the desert, the alexin of our cure grows by a mountain rock, and our lives are haunted by a Georgia slattern, because a London cutpurse went unhung. Each moment is the fruit of forty thousand years. The minute-winning days, like flies, buzz home to death, and every moment is a window on all time.
This is a moment:
An Englishman named Gilbert Gaunt, which he later changed to Gant (a concession probably to Yankee phonetics), having come to Baltimore from Bristol in 1837 on a sailing vessel, soon let the profits of a public house which he had purchased roll down his improvident gullet. He wandered westward into Pennsylvania, eking out a dangerous living by matching fighting cocks against the champions of country barnyards, and often escaping after a night spent in a village jail, with his champion dead on the field of battle, without the clink of a coin in his pocket, and sometimes with the print of a farmer's big knuckles on his reckless face. But he always escaped, and coming at length among the Dutch at harvest time he was so touched by the plenty of their land that he cast out his anchors there. Within a year he married a rugged young widow with a tidy farm who like all the other Dutch had been charmed by his air of travel, and his grandiose speech, particularly when he did Hamlet in the manner of the great Edmund Kean. Every one said he should have been an actor.
The Englishman begot children -- a daughter and four sons -- lived easily and carelessly, and bore patiently the weight of his wife's harsh but honest tongue. The years passed, his bright somewhat staring eyes grew dull and bagged, the tall Englishman walked with a gouty shuffle: one morning when she came to nag him out of sleep she found him dead of an apoplexy. He left five children, a mortgage and -- in his strange dark eyes which now stared bright and open -- something that had not died: a passionate and obscure hunger for voyages.
So, with this legacy, we leave this Englishman and are concerned hereafter with the heir to whom he bequeathed it, his second son, a boy named Oliver. How this boy stood by the roadside near his mother's farm, and saw the dusty Rebels march past on their way to Gettysburg, how his cold eyes darkened when he heard the great name of Virginia, and how the year the war had ended, when he was still fifteen, he had walked along a street in Baltimore, and seen within a little shop smooth granite slabs of death, carved lambs and cherubim, and an angel poised upon cold phthisic feet, with a smile of soft stone idiocy -- this is a longer tale. But I know that his cold and shallow eyes had darkened with the obscure and passionate hunger that had lived in a dead man's eyes, and that had led from Fenchurch Street past Philadelphia. As the boy looked at the big angel with the carved stipe of lilystalk, a cold and nameless excitement possessed him. The long fingers of his big hands closed. He felt that he wanted, more than anything in the world, to carve delicately with a chisel. He wanted to wreak something dark and unspeakable in him into cold stone. He wanted to carve an angel's head.
Oliver entered the shop and asked a big bearded man with a wooden mallet for a job. He became the stone cutter's apprentice. He worked in that dusty yard five years. He became a stone cutter. When his apprenticeship was over he had become a man.
He never found it. He never learned to carve an angel's head. The dove, the lamb, the smooth joined marble hands of death, and letters fair and fine -- but not the angel. And of all the years of waste and loss -- the riotous years in Baltimore, of work and savage drunkenness, and the theatre of Booth and Salvini, which had a disastrous effect upon the stone cutter, who memorized each accent of the noble rant, and strode muttering through the streets, with rapid gestures of the enormous talking hands -- these are blind steps and gropings of our exile, the painting of our hunger as, remembering speechlessly, we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, a door. Where? When?
He never found it, and he reeled down across the continent into the Reconstruction South -- a strange wild form of six feet four with cold uneasy eyes, a great blade of nose, and a rolling tide of rhetoric, a preposterous and comic invective, as formalized as classical epithet, which he used seriously, out with a faint uneasy grin around the corners of his thin wailing mouth.
He set up business in Sydney, the little capital city of one of the middle Southern states, lived soberly and industriously under the attentive eye of a folk still raw with defeat and hostility, and finally, his good name founded and admission won, he married a gaunt tubercular spinstress, ten years his elder, but with a nest egg and an unshakable will to matrimony. Within eighteen months he was a howling maniac again, his little business went smash while his foot stayed on the polished rail, and Cynthia, his wife -- whose life, the natives said, he had not helped to prolong -- died suddenly one night after a hemorrhage.
So, all was gone again -- Cynthia, the shop, the hard-bought praise of soberness, the angel's head -- he walked through the streets at dark, yelling his pentameter curse at Rebel ways, and all their indolence; but sick with fear and loss and penitence, he wilted under the town's reproving stare, becoming convinced, as the flesh wasted on his own gaunt frame, that Cynthia's scourge was doing vengeance now on him.
He was only past thirty, but he looked much older. His face was yellow and sunken; the waxen blade of his nose looked like a beak. He had long brown mustaches that hung straight down mournfully.
His tremendous bouts of drinking had wrecked his health. He was thin as a rail and had a cough. He thought of Cynthia now, in the lonely and hostile town, and he became afraid. He thought he had tuberculosis and that he was going to die.
So, alone and lost again, having found neither order nor establishment in the world, and with the earth cut away from his feet, Oliver resumed his aimless drift along the continent. He turned westward toward the great fortress of the hills, knowing that behind them his evil fame would not be known, and hoping that he might find in them isolation, a new life, and recovered health.
The eyes of the gaunt spectre darkened again, as they had in his youth.
All day, under a wet gray sky of October, Oliver rode westward across the mighty state. As he stared mournfully out the window at the great raw land so sparsely tilled by the futile and occasional little farms, which seemed to have made only little grubbing patches in the wilderness, his heart went cold and leaden in him. He thought of the great barns of Pennsylvania, the ripe bending of golden grain, the plenty, the order, the clean thrift of the people. And he thought of how he had set out to get order and position for himself, and of the rioting confusion of his life, the blot and blur of years, and the red waste of his youth.
By God! he thought. I'm getting old! Why here?
The grisly parade of the spectre years trooped through his brain. Suddenly, he saw that his life had been channelled by a series of accidents: a mad Rebel singing of Armageddon, the sound of a bugle on the road, the mule-hoofs of the army, the silly white face of an angel in a dusty shop, a slut's pert wiggle of her hams as she passed by. He had reeled out of warmth and plenty into this barren land: as he stared out the window and saw the fallow unworked earth, the great raw lift of the Piedmont, the muddy red clay roads, and the slattern people gaping at the stations -- a lean farmer gangling above his reins, a dawdling negro, a gap-toothed yokel, a hard sallow woman with a grimy baby -- the strangeness of destiny stabbed him with fear. How came he here from the clean Dutch thrift of his youth into this vast lost earth of rickets?
The train rattled on over the reeking earth. Rain fell steadily. A brakeman came draftily into the dirty plush coach and emptied a scuttle of coal into the big stove at the end. High empty laughter shook a group of yokels sprawled on two turned seats. The bell tolled mournfully above the clacking wheels. There was a droning interminable wait at a junction-town near the foot-hills. Then the train moved on again across the vast rolling earth.
Dusk came. The huge bulk of the hills was foggily emergent. Small smoky lights went up in the hillside shacks. The train crawled dizzily across high trestles spanning ghostly hawsers of water. Far up, far down, plumed with wisps of smoke, toy cabins stuck to bank and gulch and hillside. The train toiled sinuously up among gouged red cuts with slow labor. As darkness came, Oliver descended at the little town of Old Stockade where the rails ended. The last great wall of the hills lay stark above him. As he left the dreary little station and stared into the greasy lamplight of a country store, Oliver felt that he was crawling, like a great beast, into the circle of those enormous hills to die.
The next morning he resumed his journey by coach. His destination was the little town of Altamont, twenty-four miles away beyond the rim of the great outer wall of the hills. As the horses strained slowly up the mountain road Oliver's spirit lifted a little. It was a gray-golden day in late October, bright and windy. There was a sharp bite and sparkle in the mountain air: the range soared above him, close, immense, clean, and barren. The trees rose gaunt and stark: they were almost leafless. The sky was full of windy white rags of cloud; a thick blade of mist washed slowly around the rampart of a mountain.
Below him a mountain stream foamed down its rocky bed, and he could see little dots of men laying the track that would coil across the hill toward Altamont. Then the sweating team lipped the gulch of the mountain, and, among soaring and lordly ranges that melted away in purple mist, they began the slow descent toward the high plateau on which the town of Altamont was built.
In the haunting eternity of these mountains, rimmed in their enormous cup, he found sprawled out on its hundred hills and hollows a town of four thousand people.
There were new lands. His heart lifted.
This town of Altamont had been settled soon after the Revolutionary War. It had been a convenient stopping-off place for cattledrovers and farmers in their swing eastward from Tennessee into South Carolina. And, for several decades before the Civil War, it had enjoyed the summer patronage of fashionable people from Charleston and the plantations of the hot South. When Oliver first came to it it had begun to get some reputation not only as a summer resort, but as a sanitarium for tuberculars. Several rich men from the North had established hunting lodges in the hills, and one of them had bought huge areas of mountain land and, with an army of imported architects, carpenters and masons, was planning the greatest country estate in America -- something in limestone, with pitched slate roofs, and one hundred and eighty-three rooms. It was modelled on the chateau at Blois. There was also a vast new hotel, a sumptuous wooden barn, rambling comfortably upon the summit of a commanding hill.
But most of the population was still native, recruited from the hill and country people in the surrounding districts. They were Scotch-Irish mountaineers, rugged, provincial, intelligent, and industrious.
Oliver had about twelve hundred dollars saved from the wreckage of Cynthia's estate. During the winter he rented a little shack at one edge of the town's public square, acquired a small stock of marbles, and set up business. But he had little to do at first save to think of the prospect of his death. During the bitter and lonely winter, while he thought he was dying, the gaunt scarecrow Yankee that flapped muttering through the streets became an object of familiar gossip to the townspeople. All the people at his boarding-house knew that at night he walked his room with great caged strides, and that a long low moan that seemed wrung from his bowels quivered incessantly on his thin lips. But he spoke to no one about it.
And then the marvellous hill Spring came, green-golden, with brief spurting winds, the magic and fragrance of the blossoms, warm gusts of balsam. The great wound in Oliver began to heal. His voice was heard in the land once more, there were purple flashes of the old rhetoric, the ghost of the old eagerness.
One day in April, as with fresh awakened senses, he stood before his shop, watching the flurry of life in the square, Oliver heard behind him the voice of a man who was passing. And that voice, flat, drawling, complacent, touched with sudden light a picture that had lain dead in him for twenty years.
"Hit's a comin'! Accordin' to my riggers hit's due June 11, 1886."
Oliver turned and saw retreating the burly persuasive figure of the prophet he had last seen vanishing down the dusty road that led to Gettysburg and Armageddon.
"Who is that?" he asked a man.
The man looked and grinned.
"That's Bacchus Pentland," he said. "He's quite a character. There are a lot of his folks around here."
Oliver wet his great thumb briefly. Then, with a thin grin, he said:
"Has Armageddon come yet?"
"He's expecting it any day now," said the man.
Then Oliver met Eliza. He lay one afternoon in Spring upon the smooth leather sofa of his little office, listening to the bright piping noises in the Square. A restoring peace brooded over his great extended body. He thought of the loamy black earth with its sudden young light of flowers, of the beaded chill of beer, and of the plumtree's dropping blossoms. Then he heard the brisk heel-taps of a woman coming down among the marbles, and he got hastily to his feet. He was drawing on his well brushed coat of heavy black just as she entered.
"I tell you what," said Eliza, pursing her lips in reproachful banter, "I wish I was a man and had nothing to do but lie around all day on a good easy sofa."
"Good afternoon, madam," said Oliver with a flourishing bow. "Yes," he said, as a faint sly grin bent the corners of his thin mouth, "I reckon you've caught me taking my constitutional. As a matter of fact I very rarely lie down in the daytime, but I've been in bad health for the last year now, and I'm not able to do the work I used to."
He was silent a moment; his face drooped in an expression of hangdog dejection. "Ah, Lord! I don't know what's to become of me!"
"Pshaw!" said Eliza briskly and contemptuously. "There's nothing wrong with you in my opinion. You're a big strapping fellow, in the prime of life. Half of it's only imagination. Most of the time we think we're sick it's all in the mind. I remember three years ago I was teaching school in Hominy Township when I was taken down with pneumonia. Nobody ever expected to see me come out of it alive but I got through it somehow; I well remember one day I was sitting down -- as the fellow says, I reckon I was convalescin'; the reason I remember is Old Doctor Fletcher had just been and when he went out I saw him shake his head at my cousin Sally. 'Why Eliza, what on earth,' she said, just as soon as he had gone, 'he tells me you're spitting up blood every time you cough; you've got consumption as sure as you live.' 'Pshaw,' I said. I remember I laughed just as big as you please, determined to make a big joke of it all; I just thought to myself, I'm not going to give into it, I'll fool them all yet; 'I don't believe a word of it' (I said)," she nodded her head smartly at him, and pursed her lips, "'and besides, Sally' (I said) 'we've all got to go some time, and there's no use worrying about what's going to happen. It may come tomorrow, or it may come later, but it's bound to come to all in the end'."
"Ah Lord!" said Oliver, shaking his head sadly. "You hit the nail on the head that time. A truer word was never spoken."
Merciful God! he thought, with an anguished inner grin. How long is this to keep up? But she's a pippin as sure as you're born. He looked appreciatively at her trim erect figure, noting her milky white skin, her black-brown eyes, with their quaint child's stare, and her jet black hair drawn back tightly from her high white forehead. She had a curious trick of pursing her lips reflectively before she spoke; she liked to take her time, and came to the point after interminable divagations down all the lane-ends of memory and overtone, feasting upon the golden pageant of all she had ever said, done, felt, thought, seen, or replied, with egocentric delight.
Then, while he looked, she ceased speaking abruptly, put her neat gloved hand to her chin, and stared off with a thoughtful pursed mouth.
"Well," she said after a moment, "if you're getting your health back and spend a good part of your time lying around you ought to have something to occupy your mind." She opened a leather portmanteau she was carrying and produced a visiting card and two fat volumes. "My name," she said portentously, with slow emphasis, "is Eliza Pentland, and I represent the Larkin Publishing Company."
She spoke the words proudly, with dignified gusto. Merciful God! A book-agent! thought Gant.
"We are offering," said Eliza, opening a huge yellow book with a fancy design of spears and flags and laurel wreaths, "a book of poems called Gems of Verse for Hearth and Fireside as well as Larkin's Domestic Doctor and Book of Household Remedies, giving directions for the cure and prevention of over five hundred diseases."
"Well," said Gant, with a faint grin, wetting his big thumb briefly, "I ought to find one that I've got out of that."
"Why, yes," said Eliza, nodding smartly, "as the fellow says, you can read poetry for the good of your soul and Larkin for the good of your body."
"I like poetry," said Gant, thumbing over the pages, and pausing with interest at the section marked Songs of the Spur and Sabre. "In my boyhood I could recite it by the hour."
He bought the books. Eliza packed her samples, and stood up looking sharply and curiously about the dusty little shop.
"Doing any business?" she said.
"Very little," said Oliver sadly. "Hardly enough to keep body and soul together. I'm a stranger in a strange land."
"Pshaw!" said Eliza cheerfully. "You ought to get out and meet more people. You need something to take your mind off yourself. If I were you, I'd pitch right in and take an interest in the town's progress. We've got everything here it takes to make a big town -- scenery, climate, and natural resources, and we all ought to work together. If I had a few thousand dollars I know what I'd do," -- she winked smartly at him, and began to speak with a curiously masculine gesture of the hand -- forefinger extended, fist loosely clenched. "Do you see this corner here -- the one you're on? It'll double in value in the next few years. Now, here!" she gestured before her with the loose masculine gesture. "They're going to run a street through there some day as sure as you live. And when they do --" she pursed her lips reflectively, "that property is going to be worth money."
She continued to talk about property with a strange meditative hunger. The town seemed to be an enormous blueprint to her: her head was stuffed uncannily with figures and estimates -- who owned a lot, who sold it, the sale-price, the real value, the future value, first and second mortgages, and so on. When she had finished, Oliver said with the emphasis of strong aversion, thinking of Sydney:
"I hope I never own another piece of property as long as I live -- save a house to live in. It is nothing but a curse and a care, and the tax-collector gets it all in the end."
Eliza looked at him with a startled expression, as if he had uttered a damnable heresy.
"Why, say! That's no way to talk!" she said. "You want to lay something by for a rainy day, don't you?"
"I'm having my rainy day now," he said gloomily. "All the property I need is eight feet of earth to be buried in."
Then, talking more cheerfully, he walked with her to the door of the shop, and watched her as she marched primly away across the square, holding her skirts at the curbs with ladylike nicety. Then he turned back among his marbles again with a stirring in him of a joy he thought he had lost forever.
The Pentland family, of which Eliza was a member, was one of the strangest tribes that ever came out of the hills. It had no clear title to the name of Pentland: a Scotch-Englishman of that name, who was a mining engineer, the grandfather of the present head of the family, had come into the hills after the Revolution, looking for copper, and lived there for several years, begetting several children by one of the pioneer women. When he disappeared the woman took for herself and her children the name of Pentland.
The present chieftain of the tribe was Eliza's father, the brother of the prophet Bacchus, Major Thomas Pentland. Another brother had been killed during the Seven Days. Major Pentland's military title was honestly if inconspicuously earned. While Bacchus, who never rose above the rank of Corporal, was blistering his hard hands at Shiloh, the Major, as commander of two companies of Home Volunteers, was guarding the stronghold of the native hills. This stronghold was never threatened until the closing days of the war, when the Volunteers, ambuscaded behind convenient trees and rocks, fired three volleys into a detachment of Sherman's stragglers, and quietly dispersed to the defense of their attendant wives and children.
The Pentland family was as old as any in the community, but it had always been poor, and had made few pretenses to gentility. By marriage, and by intermarriage among its own kinsmen, it could boast of some connection with the great, of some insanity, and a modicum of idiocy. But because of its obvious superiority, in intelligence and fibre, to most of the mountain people it held a position of solid respect among them.
The Pentlands bore a strong clan-marking. Like most rich personalities in strange families their powerful group-stamp became more impressive because of their differences. They had broad powerful noses, with fleshy deeply scalloped wings, sensual mouths, extraordinarily mixed of delicacy and coarseness, which in the process of thinking they convolved with astonishing flexibility, broad intelligent foreheads, and deep fiat cheeks, a trifle hollowed. The men were generally ruddy of face, and their typical stature was meaty, strong, and of middling height, although it varied into gangling cadaverousness.
Major Thomas Pentland was the father of a numerous family of which Eliza was the only surviving girl. A younger sister had died a few years before of a disease which the family identified sorrowfully as "poor Jane's scrofula." There were six boys: Henry, the oldest, was now thirty, Will was twenty-six, Jim was twenty-two, and Thaddeus, Elmer and Greeley were, in the order named, eighteen, fifteen, and eleven. Eliza was twenty-four.
The four oldest children, Henry, Will, Eliza, and Jim, had passed their childhood in the years following the war. The poverty and privation of these years had been so terrible that none of them ever spoke of it now, but the bitter steel had sheared into their hearts, leaving scars that would not heal.
The effect of these years upon the oldest children was to develop in them an insane niggardliness, an insatiate love of property, and a desire to escape from the Major's household as quickly as possible.
"Father," Eliza had said with ladylike dignity, as she led Oliver for the first time into the sitting-room of the cottage, "I want you to meet Mr. Gant."
Major Pentland rose slowly from his rocker by the fire, folded a large knife, and put the apple he had been peeling on the mantel. Bacchus looked up benevolently from a whittled stick, and Will, glancing up from his stubby nails which he was paring as usual, greeted the visitor with a birdlike nod and wink. The men amused themselves constantly with pocket knives.
Major Pentland advanced slowly toward Gant. He was a stocky fleshy man in the middle fifties, with a ruddy face, a patriarchal beard, and the thick complacent features of his tribe.
"It's W. O. Gant, isn't it?" he asked in a drawling unctuous voice.
"Yes," said Oliver, "that's right."
"From what Eliza's been telling me about you," said the Major, giving the signal to his audience, "I was going to say it ought to be L.E. Gant."
The room sounded with the fat pleased laughter of the Pentlands.
"Whew!" cried Eliza, putting her hand to the wing of her broad nose.
"I'll vow, father! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
"Gant grinned with a thin false painting of mirth.
The miserable old scoundrel, he thought. He's had that one bottled up for a week.
"You've met Will before," said Eliza.
"Both before and aft," said Will with a smart wink.
When their laughter had died down, Eliza said: "And this -- as the fellow says -- is Uncle Bacchus."
"Yes, sir," said Bacchus beaming, "as large as life an' twice as sassy."
"They call him Back-us everywhere else," said Will, including them all in a brisk wink, "but here in the family we call him Behind-us."
"I suppose," said Major Pentland deliberately, "that you've served on a great many juries?"
"No," said Oliver, determined to endure the worst now with a frozen grin. "Why?"
"Because," said the Major looking around again, "I thought you were a fellow who'd done a lot of courtin'."
Then, amid their laughter, the door opened, and several of the others came in -- Eliza's mother, a plain worn Scotchwoman, and Jim, a ruddy porcine young fellow, his father's beardless twin, and Thaddeus, mild, ruddy, brown of hair and eye, bovine, and finally Greeley, the youngest, a boy with lapping idiot grins, full of strange squealing noises at which they laughed. He was eleven, degenerate, weak, scrofulous, but his white moist hands could draw from a violin music that had in it something unearthly and untaught.
And as they sat there in the hot little room with its warm odor of mellowing apples, the vast winds howled down from the hills, there was a roaring in the pines, remote and demented, the bare boughs clashed. And as they peeled, or pared, or whittled, their talk slid from its rude jocularity to death and burial: they drawled monotonously, with evil hunger, their gossip of destiny, and of men but newly lain in the earth. And as their talk wore on, and Gant heard the spectre moan of the wind, he was entombed in loss and darkness, and his soul plunged downward in the pit of night, for he saw that he must die a stranger -- that all, all but these triumphant Pentlands, who banqueted on death -- must die.
And like a man who is perishing in the polar night, he thought of the rich meadows of his youth: the corn, the plum tree, and ripe grain. Why here? O lost!
Copyright © 1929 by Charles Scribner's Sons
Look Homeward, Angel
A legendary author on par with William Faulkner and Flannery O'Connor, Thomas Wolfe published Look Homeward, Angel, his first novel, about a young man's burning desire to leave his small town and tumultuous family in search of a better life, in 1929. It gave the world proof of his genius and launched a powerful legacy.
The novel follows the trajectory of Eugene Gant, a brilliant and restless young man whose wanderlust and passion shape his adolescent years in rural North Carolina. Wolfe said that Look Homeward, Angel is "a book made out of my life," and his largely autobiographical story about the quest for a greater intellectual life has resonated with and influenced generations of readers, including some of today's most important novelists. Rich with lyrical prose and vivid characterizations, this twentieth-century American classic will capture the hearts and imaginations of every reader.
- Scribner |
- 544 pages |
- October 2006
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Look Homeward, Angel is the epic coming-of-age story of Eugene Gant, a brilliant and restless young man whose passion for a greater intellectual life shapes his adolescent years in rural North Carolina. Wolfe's vivid characterization of the incomparable Gants -- including Eugene's charismatic and alcoholic father and his miserly real estate tycoon mother -- and his detailed observations of small town life form the foundation for this classic work of American literature. The most famous novel from one of our greatest authors, Look Homeward, Angel is a truly unforgettable masterpiece.
Discussion Questions for Robert Morgan's Introduction
1. In his introduction to Look Homeward, Angel, Robert Morgan quotes Harold Bloom as saying of Wolfe's work, "One cannot discuss the literary merits of Thomas Wolfe; he has none." Yet he also discredits Bloom by noting that Wolfe has had one of the biggest influences on contemporary fiction after Hemingway and Faulkner. Why do you think the work of Faulkner and Hemingway has remained extremely popular with critics and readers while Wolfe's work has floated under the radar? What elements of Wolfe's work do you find more accessible to you as a reader? What are the major differences between Wolfe's work and the work of Faulkner, Hemingway, and his other contemporaries?
2. Part of Wolfe's great legacy is that he has captured the imagi see more
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Hipotel Paris Buttes Chaumont (aka Eden Hotel)
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... it took us half an hour to find the correct ticket place (big place, not much signage), which looked like yesterday's immigration queue, but more surly. Big police/military presence, we saw a couple of groups of heavily armed military men.
We were broken souls by the time we had possession of the tickets so came back to the relative peace of our 'burb, stopping only to buy the doings for a dinner sandwich. 2 euros worth of cheese and 4 euros for ham and ...
Opera and Rue de Caumartin
Slept in and then had a very lazy morning drinking coffee and blogging in bed. The last two days had been action packed and a lot of walking and we were ready to take it kind of easy. Went down and had brunch at the Cafe Moulin which is just down the street. Nice meal.
After eating we walked around a bit and checked out the neighborhood. We retraced our path from 13 Rue Caumartin back to the Opera stop. We were going ...
We arrived at our hotel around 4.30 and after dropping our bags to the room, we had a look around the little shopping centre next door. Our guide had said our stop for tea wouldn't be until quite late so we had something here. We met our local guide at the coach at 6.00 for a drive thru Paris, another river cruise, this time on the Seine, a dinner stop and a stop on the bridge for photos of the Eiffel Tower. Once again our tour guide gave the wrong info as ...
What Didn't We Do Today?
... for me, she apparently does still love me as the only 2 keys in world to that lock with our names on it now reside at the bottom of the Siene River. :)
We can already see that walking around Paris is going to be a work-out in it's own right...the up hill climb to the Pantheon is a good bit of work, with Heather suggesting "this place better be worth it!" But unfortunately as we came around the corner we discovered that the ...
Anniworsory Day
- Title spelling not wrong, from Family Man, Nic Cage movie.
- Wend had a cute little lock engraved that she showed me yesterday, I showed her my big boofy one today. We stuck them on either side of foot bridge opposite Musee de Orsay.
- While waiting in line for bus to Monet's Garden a German lady tried to muscle her way to the front of the line. ...


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Dealer Login | Contact | U.S. Cooler Home
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Edit: never mind he totally did.
Edit: never mind he totally did.
@louierivers: You mean that canceled Mistwalker game Cry On or whatever it was called?
I would watch the shit out of "Just Playin' Witcha'," real talk.
One of those games that probably would've been a good enough reason for me to buy PS2 besides God of War 1&2, I suppose...but I guess I'll settle for the new DmC, which I'm having a blast with!
Also this is probably the first time (well, this and the first part) I've seen this game in action. Before this I just knew it had some crazy shooting, rockety music and a logo I used to think was a cat, not a person holding guns.
Oh, and I also remember this advert...(PS2 used to have such odd/good ones...)
The video quality is really poor. Is the 720p version reserved for members?
American castle near where I grew up:
Huge castle in Kentucky.
@fistfulofmetal: Odd. I didn't get an email about it.
I was pretty certain we already knew about the next Batman game. Paul Dini left for...whatever reason (I remember reading about "Creative Differences" in regards to story...which is not good, as Dini is the best thing to ever happen to Batman), and there's Silver Age references, or the story is Silver Age based, or something. Am I crazy? I was quite certain I remember hearing about this months ago.
Those cameras got possessed by the devil.
Wait is this no longer subscriber only?
"All I do on the internet is look up pictures of castles all day."
Vinny, words cannot describe how much I love you.
Love that sticky icky. Love that sticky icky video.
Yeah I'm going to have to agree with Brad. He wouldn't do well with EVE, SWTOR is more his speed. Maybe not, though. It does have consequences for death.
Too many poor filthy peasants in these comments. Get out of my way!
I can't feel special with all these common people here.
Nah I'm just kidding.
Great to see this up so quick. I love this feature.
Brad didn't save on the 27 minute mission -_-
oh god... I hope that doesn't discourage him from playing more DMC1
Yes, Dragon Ball's Frieza saga did go on for too long, haha.
Enjoyed the video, but does anyone know how or if you can have the video on the left side of the window?
I got used to it being on the left side, similar to when I watch youtube or Twitchtv. It's pretty standard to be on the left side in English-speaking countries, and now the video is on the right, which is just a little odd. Is there some way to hide the text on the left so that the video centers or can I just get the video on the left? I like the size, but I would just prefer it on the left.
Godamnit! I really would've liked to see some DeathSpank.
Love this game!!! I still need to buy the new DMC >_>
Great update on the site too =P
Excited to watch this!
Wait what the fuck did brad fucking say about dark souls? It looks way better than this.
should I be able to watch this?
*None premium-member*
They said that they're making this one non-premium! Mostly because the site was borked while they were livestreaming.
Vinny, you know never to leave Brad alone, he will end up delete half an hour of game progress.
Brad didn't save on the 27 minute mission -_-
This continues to be a great feature, with small accomplishments being huge wins for Brad.
DMC video. New site
This game really seems like something that should maybe be left to your memories.
There are parts of it where I most definitely agree with you. Some of the camera angles are atrocious. It's really, painfully clear that this started of as a Resident Evil game.
Did Brad not save at the end?
oh no
So this feature doesn't end till Brad actually cries, right?
Why are some people concerned about Brad saving at the end? He totally did. DMC doesn't kick you out of the save menu once you save. It's kind of weird, but you get used to it. He chose to overwrite his previous save, and it popped up with the new level.
And great feature. With some serious Brad pulling.
New site launch!Great work Enenykite and fellow engineers.
should I be able to watch this?
*None premium-member*
I have to say, Brad has a really dumb definition of "spoiler."
I hope Brad saved
The thing about spoilers is that they set expectations, and some people get caught up on expectations and can't enjoy the thing they're trying to experience because they can't stop thinking they already know how something will pan out, or they get stuck subconsciously wondering how that one seemingly trivial nugget they learned fits into the big picture and miss a bunch of other details because of it. Yeah, some people get way too caught up on spoilers, but here's the tricky thing; When you're cautious about revealing something that truly is trivial, it can trick people into thinking it's significant and they'll feel spoiled because of it. And then when they find out it isn't, they feel cheated about having spent so much energy worrying about it. Nothing good can come of it!
Even something as simple as knowing how many weapons there is in a game can set someone off, because then they might spend all their time with the game feeling like they're measuring their progress through the story by how many weapons they have, and that can form unwanted expectations, and those can lead to disappointment. Basically... just.. be careful about it. Never preface a piece of information with "without spoiling anything" or similar because that just puts people on guard, and if you so much think it might be a spoiler, it's best not to even talk about it. Some things just plain aren't spoilers. If I was discussing Halo 4 with someone who didn't want it spoiled, I still wouldn't hesitate once to mention that it has a tank section. That's not a spoiler, it's just... it's a thing in the game. Darksiders has combat arenas. Not a spoiler.
But I really should stop ranting and watch this here video instead!
Edit: Thinking that only story related details are spoilers is very narrow-minded. In most games, I couldn't give a crap about what happens in the story, but I want to be pleasantly surprised by mechanics I didn't see coming. Mechanics that can take the shape of, say, new weapons or enemy types...
Oh lord my eyes. What have they done to this site. I feel like gdgt and joystiq had a kid and this is what I'm looking at. Visual mess.
Did Brad not save at the end?
seemed like he didn't
It's still being processed, apparently.
I've never played Devil May Cry 1, but 4 is like one of my favourite ever games, and right now I'm playing through Bayonetta...
OH MY GOD THESE GAMES ARE ALL THE SAME!! The enemies and weapons in DMC 1 are all still there in 4, and mostly in 3. Switching between electricity and fire, the exact thing the bosses say are all the same in Bayonetta, the punch-hands are in like every game... Even the guys from 4 with the shields who tunnel underground- those guys were invented in 2001? Jeez!
you heard it here folks the wii u makes an excellent paperweight. also brad's refusal to look up moves frustrates me.
Can't wait to watch, enjoyed the first one a lot, almost bought the HD collection to play the games
Not even joking, Sticky Video is my favorite thing about the new site.
A taste of greatness for the poor peasants. I need to subscribe.
@mistasparkle: Hear, hear.
Glad this is up!
Seriously, stop spoiling completely unrelated games - even jokingly :'( Sometimes people want to be as clean as possible when going into a game, and not everybody has played every game from years ago...


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ENVIRONMENTAL EDUCATORS OF NORTH CAROLINA Reviews
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Pregnant Holly Madison hospitalized with extreme morning sickness
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Holly Madison is on the mend.
Nearly seven months pregnant with her first child, the former "Girls Next Door" beauty, 32, was hospitalized on Dec. 3 for complications due to morning sickness, she confirmed via Twitter.
PHOTOS: Inside Holly Madison's Disney babymoon
"Almost seven months and morning sickness took hold! Glad to be otherwise OK, though," Madison tweeted, along with an Instagram photo of the Converse sneaker clad mom-to-be with an IV in her arm.
As supportive messages from fans poured in, the expectant mom assured Twitter followers her health was improving. "Thank you for all the get well wishes! Keeping me entertained -- forgot to bring a book with me," continued Madison, who's expecting a daughter with her Electric Daisy Carnival founder boyfriend, Pasquale Rotella.
PHOTOS: Holly's sexy 'Girls Next Door' days
Madison is not the only celebrity mother-to-be faced with a nasty bout of morning sickness this week. On Dec. 3 -- the same day her first pregnancy was confirmed, Duchess Kate, 30, was admitted to King Edward VII Hospital in Central London to receive treatment for hyperemesis gravidarium.
Affecting between 0.03 to 1 percent of expectant mothers, HG is characterized by severe nausea, vomiting, weight loss, dehydration, lightheadedness and fainting. Treatment typically includes hydration, bed rest, and in some cases like Middleton's, hospitalization.
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RUM Hotels - Al Waleed
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Jordan Rocks!
... there, we discussed food, culture, politics, travel, etc. All the stuff you're not supposed to talk about. I found out that he works three jobs to support two kids. It all made sense when he quoted me the price of the rides, $80 JOD, plus tip. Yep, way over a $100!!! Granted, he did drive me out past heaven's gates to a land that time forgot. But, I figured this was all part of his "my baby's gotta eat strategy", so I paid it and went on my way. ...
Amman after my own heart
... to departures to await our next flight to Amman.
This flight was once again on time and before we knew it we were in Jordan albeit at about 2am.
The airport was almost exactly how we expected it when we step of the gangway with cool air conditioning and clean marble floors, this we realised was being payed for with the useless but expensive $80aud postage stamp visa we had to purchase.
Once we collected our bags and headed outside we were in ...
It hasn't even been a week...
... what life is like in Jordan when you're not well off and you hate your job as a taxi driver.
What will it be like after a month? Hopefully a little more Arabic, a few new cooking techniques, deeper friendships, more sites seen, the city explored, established my niche at work, but still as full of curiosity, exploring, always going deeper and finding more. Here's to 10 more months!
It hasn't even been a week...
The Mosque
... to King Abdullah bin Al-Hussein, who galvanised the Arab nations in their uprising against the Turks at the end of the first world war, and was proclaimed the first king of Jordan in 1946 when the British pulled out of the region after the second world war. Along with most things in this part of the world, the history is not very straightforward. In 1948, shortly after being proclaimed a country, Jordan had an expansionist policy, and invaded and occupied ...
The Dead Sea Scrolls
... stone age, bronze age and iron age, as well as through the Assyrian and Babylonian periods, the Nabateans (who built Petra as their capital), Alexander the Great, and the Roman domination, then the Byzantine (Christian) period which gave way to the Islamic conquest, the fall of the Ottoman (Turkish) empire, and the founding of the modern Jordanian state in 1948. Whew!
Still to come is the full second floor, and the adjacent children's ...


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NGI InitiativeShort for Next Generation Internet Initiative, a U.S. program designed to fund and coordinate federal agencies and academia to design and build the next generation of Internet services. The program was first proposed by President Clinton in 1996 and has not yet been formally specified or funded by Congress. It is still unclear how the NGI Initiative will complement other initiatives, such as the NSF's very high-speed Backbone Network Service (vNBS) and Internet2 (I2).
Perceptual computing is the ability for a computer to recognize what is going on around it. More specifically, the computer can perceive the... Read More »Apple Pay Promises to Strengthen Payment Security
Experts believe that Apple Pay and other competitive payment systems will be far more secure than cards, even cards equipped with EMV chips. Read More »The Great Data Storage Debate: Is Tape Dead?
Tape clearly is on the decline. But remember, legacy systems can hang for a shockingly long time. Read More »
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Check out the new, mobile-friendly WineSpectator.com!
Cal Turner III loves wine and lives in Nashville, so it's no surprise he dined regularly at the Wild Boar, a former Wine Spectator Grand Award winner there. For him, ordering from the restaurant's incredible wine list, which included thousands of bottles of aged Bordeaux, Champagne and other classics, was a chance to broaden his wine horizons.
For the full article, check out the new issue of Wine Spectator, on newsstands November 30, 2006.
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Celebrity ScorpioKaty Perry October 25 1984
Weekly forecastYour April Monthly Forecast: They say that 'all things are best in moderation'. Presumably, that includes moderation itself! There are times when it is sensible not to be too sensible - and we have to be brave and bold. A sharp alignment from Mars to Jupiter speaks of your need to be decisive. You have lately seen several seemingly good reasons to avoid taking drastic or dramatic action. You are now becoming even more keenly conscious of the need to take a significant step. Try to restrict the risk, by all means, but don't be fearful this month.
The ASTRO-ALERTS now make the 5 Star Service uniquely personal to you. You'll get alerts and advice directly related to your full birth chart as and when they happen. Plus your new April Video is ready too. All on free trial. Join now!


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New Belgium Brewing Company
Every year more than a 120,000 people visit New Belgium Brewing Company in Ft. Collins, Colo., to tour and taste. more»
Every year more than a 120,000 people visit New Belgium Brewing Company in Ft. Collins, Colo., to tour and taste. more»
Elysian Brewing Company is known for its IPAs, like the best-selling Space Dust seasonal that bites with a pleasant floral finish. The year-round Immortal IPA is a Pacific Northwest favorite that presents with a unique copper color, popping with a nice, bitter IPA greeting and a smooth finish. more»
The 64-ounce growler, as well as the emerging 32-ounce "growlet," has become a prominent fixture for both brewery startups, and new craft beer point-of-tap businesses. So prominent in fact, that some states are changing laws to allow growlers to be taken home. more»
The Pike Brewing Company sits in the south end of the cavernous Seattle Pike Place Market, the oldest continuously operating farmers' market in the country. more»
Big Horn Brewing, part of the RAM/C.B. & Potts Restaurant and Brewery Group, just scored a gold medal at the 2013 Great American Beer Festival® for its outstanding Big Horn Hefeweizen. Find out what else has been going on at their Fort Collins, Colo., location from brewer Kirk Lombardi. more»
Bristol Brewing's recent move into the former Ivywild Elementary School has allowed them to double their capacity while using 25 percent less gain. Supported by a bakery, deli and butcher, the business have become a community favorite in Colorado Springs, Colo. more»
Two Rascals Brewing Company's owners/brewers Brandon Frey and Dan Leonardi met on the front lines as firefighters on the Western Slope of Colorado. Fighting fires makes a person thirsty, and the two realized a mutual passion for homebrewing. more»
Innovative business plans being implemented by America's craft brewers are an indicator that craft beer has moved beyond just existing and is now creating and defining the market by driving business. more»
Since December, 2010, Funkwerks has remained focused on experimentation, while insuring that growth has never exceeded quality. A siason-focused brewery, Funkwerks took home the award for Small Brewing Company and Small Brewing Company Brewer of the Year at the 2012 Great American Beer Festival. more»
Originally built as a power substation for the Seattle to Olympia trolley station, Powerhouse Brewery's conversion to a gravity-fed brewing space was a stroke of genius and vision. more»


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Discussion in 'Podcast Cruises' started by WebmasterJohn, Mar 23, 2011.
Scott and family, Welcome !!!!
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Welcome !!!!
Ohw that's the reason......
Okay it's true i have 3 (maybe 4) trips before this cruise, so i can't pack already.
Hi Yvette
Hi back!!!
Miss you and i'm so glad that you are on this cruise.
A balcony doesn't mean that you can stay out of the smoking areas, i need you there!!
Are you planning on a trip to WDW this December?
Oh, I miss you too.....I'll be in the smoking areas with you....and..you know, you can always come up to our room and be on the balcony with us...and share some spirits too !!!
No, I can't go in December...I'm going next week to see my sister and get a little Disney fix at the same time....if something changes, I'll let you know
Oh wait, I've probably got even more than that number of trips before this cruise.
Yah. Me too, but not to WDW
Showoffs, the lot of you!
My next Disney trip is December 2012. So there!
Add another Scott to the list!
Has anyone been on any of the tours at either Grand Caymen or Cozumel? I want to scuba dive at one of these and do a land tour at the other but can't decide. Does anyone know when they will post excursions for Costa Maya? I like to plan ahead!
I've done dives in both GC and Coz in the more distant past. Coz is more rigorous diving since there's usually a strong current. GC is beautiful, with crystal clear waters giving visibilities of 100'. If I were to chose one, I'd go with GC.
Thank you! Most of our diving has been quarry or at Bonaire so not ready for strong currents. GC for diving it is!
Booked the cruise date while on board the Dream. Can't wait to go back.
None of the ports excite me. I have been to them all before and do not care if I visit them again. I plan to enjoy a much less crowded ship during those port days. Castaway Cay is the only port where I know I will get off of the ship.
Cozumel to buy vanilla. Other than that ...been there, done that.
Bonaire is the place against which I measure all other dives. GC comes close.
I just knew you and you kids would be joining us!
My sister just finished a week of scuba in Cozumel. This a new thing for her. She wants to scuba Grand Caymen.
We want to do a "ruins" tour. Not sure about which - one from Cozumel or Costa Maya. Anyone done these? Either one seems to be an all day trip, which could be the deciding factor. We are at Costa Maya only a few hours.
Costa Maya is kind of a disappointment. It is a "town" manufactured just for cruise ships!
Here is a description of Costa Maya.
That's how I feel about St. Thomas and St. Maarten, and why I wanted to go on a western cruise.
Separate names with a comma.


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Published February 14, 2012
INDEX 2011 Conference 12th - 15th April 2011 The World's Leading Nonwovens Exhibition, INDEX 11, taking place in Geneva from 12th - 15th April 2011, is the global meeting point for the nonwovens and supporting industries, both up- and down-stre… Read More »
Published June 8, 2011
A look at what exhibitors showcased at INDEX 2011 in Geneva, Switzerland. Read More »
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INDEX Awards are a show highlight Read More »
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Contract concluded for a 6.6 meter wide spunjet machine. Read More »
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Developments offer higher speeds, lower weights. Read More »
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Index Preview Ahlstrom Booth 1530 Ahlstrom is a high performance materials company, partnering with leading businesses around the world to help them stay ahead. Products are used in a large variety of everyday applications, such as fi… Read More »
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I'm having a problem with JSON.stringify
I'm trying to pull all the meta tags out of the page and pass them to a firefox worker file to work through them and to return back an object.
So my code previously worked when I didn't have a worker running the issue has only cropped up when I have moved to using worker file (for reasons I can't go into I need to use a worker!)
So previously I would get all the meta tags using
var metas = document.getElementsByTagName("meta");
then I could loop through the metas object by using
for (var index in metas){
var currentMeta = metas[index];
//(and so on, this code worked perfectly)
The problem occurs when I move to the external worker file scenario. What happens is I pull the meta tags out as normal, and then I use JSON.stringify to something that I can push to the worker.
After all that intro blab, here is the root of my problem: Take for example that I land on a page with the following code within the html
<meta content="width=1024" name="viewport">
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<meta content="Mozilla Hacks – the Web developer blog" name="title">
If I run the following code I get an array
var metas = document.getElementsByTagName("meta");
returns an array 3 elements
[meta, meta, meta]
If I stringify it using:
var jsonMetas = JSON.stringify(metas);
I would expect to jsonMetas to hold something like:
{"0":{"content":"width=1024","name":"viewport"},"1":{"charset":"UTF-8"},"2":{"content":"Mozilla Hacks - the web developer blog","name":"title"} }
However when I look at the jsonMetas object I see this returned:
I'm not that good at JavaScript, so could you please explaining (in very small words :) ) what is going on?
Why does the stringify call return the unusually structured object? What am I doing wrong?
Thanks in advance for your answers.


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God made us best friends because he knew our moms couldn't handle us as sisters.
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Oscar Wilde
Ava Maria Plena Gratia
WAS this His coming! I had hoped to see
A scene of wondrous glory, as was told
Of some great God who in a rain of gold
Broke open bars and fell on Danae:
Or a dread vision as when Semele
Sickening for love and unappeased desire
Prayed to see God's clear body, and the fire
Caught her white limbs and slew her utterly:
With such glad dreams I sought this holy place,
And now with wondering eyes and heart I stand
Before this supreme mystery of Love:
A kneeling girl with passionless pale face,
An angel with a lily in his hand,
And over both with outstretched wings the Dove.
Oscar Wilde's Other Poems
Related Poems
Read poems about / on: angel, girl, rain, fire, god, heart, love, dream, hope
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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Comments about this poem (Ava Maria Plena Gratia by Oscar Wilde )
Tristan Love-day (11/15/2014 8:06:00 AM)
Gajanan Mishra (11/15/2014 7:47:00 AM)
Aftab Alam Khursheed (11/15/2014 5:06:00 AM)
Ava Maria Plena Gratia is about second coming of Christ nice one thanks (Report) Reply
Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (11/15/2014 2:19:00 AM)
over with outstretched wings of dove.....how marvelous the poet created this poem I exclaim. Great it is. (Report) Reply
Gary Witt (11/15/2009 12:00:00 PM)
Mr. Pruchnicki has this one nailed, and I for one would like to thank him for his thorough explication. I would only add that I find the shifts in rhyme scheme and meter to be interesting as well. For the most part, this one is written in iambic pentameter, with the exception of lines 6,7, and 8. It is almost as if Wilde were being lazy in the meter department. On the other hand, the rhyme scheme is fairly disciplined, and shifts from a, bb, cc, dd, a to a, b, c, a, b, c. The effect is very subtle, and eliminates the potential for a sing-song recitation.
Still, I think the main characteristic of the poem, as Mr. Pruchnicki has noted, is the ironic comparison between Greek mythology, and Christianity.
-G (Report) Reply
Ramesh T A (11/15/2009 1:54:00 AM)
A dream or fantasy? A vision or reality? But it gives joy and hope about the good to happen! Poetry conjures magic to absorb mind more than religion! Nice sonnet to read! (Report) ReplyGangadharan Nair Pulingat (11/15/2014 2:20:00 AM)
A great poem from the great poetic mind and nice comment.Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (11/15/2014 2:20:00 AM)
A great poem from the great poetic mind and nice comment.
Michael Pruchnicki (11/15/2008 2:33:00 PM)
Oscar Wilde's sonnet 'Ave Maria Plena Gratia' expresses the speaker's surprise and delight at witnessing the Second Coming of the Christian God. The octave (lines 1-8) descibes the glorious and overwhelming descent of pagan gods on human men and women. Zeus visited the maiden Danae in a shower of gold and impregnated her with Perseus. Semele was slain by Hera when she refused to reveal the name of her lover who had impregnated her. Zeus appeared as a thunderbolt and Semele died, but her unborn son Dionysus was saved by Hermes. Thus the legends of the ancient world began in violence-women raped and killed, their offspring saved through divine intervention.
Contrast those images with the benign image of the Virgin Mary, her 'passionless pale face, ' 'the angel with a lily in his hand, ' and over them and the unborn Jesus in her womb the 'outstretched wings of the Dove! ' Literally then, the sonnet's title in English reads 'Hail Mary, Full of Grace, ' blessed art thee and the fruit of thy womb. The supreme mystery of Divine Love as expressed in an English sonnet and a Latin prayer. How sweet the irony! (Report) Reply
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Raiders fall in state football semifinals
Defending state champion Hartland Arrowhead scored 38 unanswered points to defeat Hudson, 38-14, in a WIAA Division 1 football semifinal game Friday night in Stevens Point.
It's the second straight season Hartland Arrowhead has defeated Hudson in the state semifinals.
The Raiders took the opening kickoff and marched 80 yards in 12 plays to take a 7-0 lead on a 2-yard touchdown run by Wade Malecha and Kristian Bell's extra point.


text: ""; ?> Ryan Downe guitar chords, guitar tabs and lyrics - chordie guitar tabs, guitar chords and lyrics Artists Songs Public booksPublic My songbookSongbook ResourcesDiv Forum Browse artists: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z # -first letter-A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z # All songs - change Chordie needs editors! Improve this page Ryan Downe MusicRyan Downe Songs There was no article about Ryan Downe in Wikipedia. If you know anything about Ryan Downe, please contribute to the free encyclopedia by writing an article. Ryan Downe I Shot You Down (1) Melancholy Baby (1) Where Am I Gonna Run To (1) play their songs - buy their music - support the artists copyright © 2011 chordie guitar chords 5 popular songs I Don't Want To Talk About It Rod Stewart Summer In The City Lovin' Spoonful Who'll Stop The Rain Creedence Clearwater Revival Bad Moon Risin Ccr Southern Cross Crosby Stills Nash


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Visit create.airbnb.com »
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Es freut mich, freundliche, unkomplizierte Gäste aus aller Welt bei mir begrüßen zu können.
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L'appartement est tout à fait conforme à l'annonce : clair, propre, spacieux, fonctionnel, calme. La situation dans Berlin est parfaite : métro et tram à 2 pas, même à pied nous ne sommes vraiment pas loin de nombreux lieux à visiter.
Veronika était là à notre arrivée comme convenu, son accueil est très "pro" ( adresses de restos, supérettes, boulangeries et même parking ). Merci pour les petits chocolats et bonbons !
Elle a toujours répondu très rapidement à nos contacts par mail. Nous avons pu laissé nos valises jusque 14h le jour de notre départ.
Bref, appartement parfait pour une famille de 4 comme nous ( jeunes de 21 et 16 ans ).
Veronika is a great host, she waited for us (9.00 pm), and gave us all the informations. Her appartment is very clean, classy , clear and spacious with all the equipments you need. The area is one of The best in Berlin, with many good restaurants and places of interest all around. We will be glad to come back for our next trip in Berlin.Thanks again Veronika!!!
Sehr schöne Wohnung in toller Lage, fussläufig zu Museuminsel, Hackschen Höfen usw.. Sehr angenehme und freundliche Vermieterin, hat uns sehr nett empfangen und auch bei der Vorbereitung immer toll unterstützt und informiert. Wir haben uns sehr wohl gefühlt.
Veronika was very nice, and told us all the nice things of Berlin and in the surroundings of the appartment.
Nice area, lots of good restaurants and shops.
Veronica is a wonderful host, and this apartment is one of the best places that I have ever stayed. The location for sightseeing and enjoying Berlin could not be better. You are close to everything walking and if you need to take public transportation, the metro is right down the street. Additionally, Veroncia has provided a very useful guide that tells you about all the great restaurants and attractions in the neighborhood. I highly recommend.
We recently stayed here on a three night family break. Veronika was very attentive and responsive to emails, very efficient and friendly. The flat is beautiful, spacious, very clean and in an excellent location for touring around Berlin. Excellent bars and cafes within walking distance.
While it was my travel buddy who checked us in with Veronika, I heard she was a very warm and welcoming host. She had talked with my friend for a while about the city and our surrounding area, as well as provided suggestions for dining and activities. As far as the apartment, we were incredibly pleased. The pictures are accurate but it is a much warmer and charming place when you see it in person. Spacious and nearly everything we could want (save a dryer), we would very much recommend this apartment for its location, size, amenities, and host.
Veronika's apartment was like a home away from home. The apartment is even better than described in the listing! Veronika met us at the apartment and showed us around as well as how to use the appliances, which was helpful. She even has a great little book for guests with lots of information with everything from bakeries, restaurants to doctors and dentists.
The bed linen, the bath towels, kitchen-ware… everything was of great quality. Veronika even left us some beautiful Christmas chocolates for our stay. There were a lot of personal touches and it was very comfortable for our 3-day stay. You could stay even longer as the apartment is quite large and well equipt.
The location is also fantastic. Our cousin from Berlin said you couldn't find a better location after he saw the apartment. The neighbourhood has everything if you are self catering or not and is really very central for sight seeing. It is also very quiet at night.
This was a great first airbnb experience for us and we would definitely recommend this apartment for 3 or more guests.
Veronika was a fantastic host, she met me as soon as I arrived and showed me around the flow, shared interesting sites, restaurants and made me and my friends feel very welcome.
She arranged a small intro pack which explained the local areas and travel routes. The flat was warm, clean, modern and extremely well set out for a family or group of friends.
Location is excellent, very happy to have stayed here over some of the other locations. Lots of bars, cafes and restaurants to keep you entertained right outside.
A wonderful,quiet apartment, equipped with everything that made us feel at home right away. It is in a central location and yet a very quiet place. Right behind one of Berlins top theater - Schaubühne- in other words cultur at your fingertips. Busstop 100 meters away, 3 short stops further you are right in the center.
Veronika is a lovely lady who really cared. She had prepared a little folder with all the necessary information. Even the TV program for the days of our stay.
We shall come back to this lovely place, that is certain and it will be like going home.


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Beautiful house
This house was absolutely beautiful. 5 couples stayed for our friends weekend wedding on the beach. I would recommend to anyone with family or group of friends. A lovely home away from home. Will hopefully come back for a group vacation next year!


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Label: That's a laugh
Manager: Not in my lifetime!
Trombonist/ compooser / arranger / some piano currently living and teaching in wilmington NC
" I try not to suck...sometimes it works out sometimes not"
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Hotel Rudolf
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Hungary's Wild East
... Hungarian plains .
Later Ildiko showed us some 'rescued' wild animals native to the area. We had dinner and lots of chatting at the one and only Hortobagy pub/restaurant.
Sunday 7th: Met Ildiko at the lovely Youth Hostel where she is staying while she works ...
From Szolnok to Romania across the plain
... developments with poor buildings now falling apart and needing lots of money spent on them. We pass plenty of horses-and-carts, beautiful churches and women carrying baskets on their backs. As we leave Satu Mare, the rain starts and, for the next sixty kilometres, it either pours or mizzles. We arrive in Baia Mare a bit wet, with the Transylvanian mountains shrouded in low clouds to our left and right. We stop at a garage to consult the map and a kind Romanian offers to show us ...
Our journey is almost over and today we visited more family. We started off the day by seeing my mothers aunt Ilonka, who was the wife of her uncle George. She was happy to see us and we were remembering the last time I was at her house as a young boy twenty years ago picking peppers from the garden. She showed us some old photos and asked us when we're having a baby (Hungarian "kish bubba") like everyone else has been ...
Ice caves ......brrr
... amp; hopefully come out clean! I'm thinking of paying him to do ours.
Thursday! Up at 7, showered, tea and a bowl of museli looking at the mountains (no cloud this morning), 24 degrees by the time we left the site just before 9.
The first stop was the Ice Caves at Dobsinska, and the roads leading to these were in Emily's words, 'totes amaze'! (Totally amazing to the older ones amongst us!) Lots of hairpin bends, forestry and beautiful scenery.
Arrived in ...
... to the Roncs and enjoyed some live music. It was a 2 man band, but they were great! They played a large variety of covers, from The Foo Fighters to The Beatles. It was a great night and we learned that they play there every Wednesday. I was so proud of Maggie and I last night though, we were going to take a cab home and we asked how much it would cost and the guy tried to completely rip us off, but at this point ...


text:
Llooks nice to me, from scripts posted at bash.cyberciti.biz
The official GNU GPL page says that the copying permission statement should come right after the copyright notices. For a one-file program, the statement (for the GPL) should look like this:Code:#!/bin/bash set -e # Use this script to copy shared (libs) files to nginx chrooted # jail server. This is tested on 64 bit Linux (Redhat and Friends only) # ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- # Written by Vivek Gite <http://www.cyberciti.biz/> # (c) 2006 nixCraft under GNU GPL v2.0+ # Last updated on: Apr/06/2010 by Vivek Gite # ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Stolen from How to use GNU licenses for your own software - GNU Project - Free Software Foundation (FSF)Code:This program is free software: you can redistribute it and/or modify it under the terms of the GNU General Public License as published by the Free Software Foundation, either version 3 of the License, or (at your option) any later version. This program is distributed in the hope that it will be useful, but WITHOUT ANY WARRANTY; without even the implied warranty of MERCHANTABILITY or FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE. See the GNU General Public License for more details. You should have received a copy of the GNU General Public License along with this program. If not, see <http://www.gnu.org/licenses/>.
I'd suggest you add your email id; so that any one can contact you with suggestions or improvements.


text:
Secretary of Defense Donald H. Rumsfeld and Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz have no public or media events on their schedules.
Principal Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for Public AffairsLawrence Di Ritaand Director for Operations, Joint Staff,Lieutenant General Norton Schwartz, will conduct a press conference in the DoD Briefing Room, Pentagon 2E579at12:00 p.m. EST.Media representatives who do not have a Pentagon building pass and wish to cover this event should arrive at the Pentagon's North Parking Entrance no later than11:15 a.m. for an escort. Media without a Pentagon building pass must have proof of affiliation and two forms of photo identification.
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AFRICOM Commander Talks About Growing Challenges
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text:
On 24th Sep 2011 Ever Great Putin finally cemented his and Russia's destiny. Been send by heavens to bring stability prosperity and the most important pride to all Russians (excluding North Caucasus's aggressors) in the moment of despair and misery.
As there is no political means to end his usurpation of power and restoring the Constitutional order, there are only two possible scenarios left, him dying in a pool of his own urine or Syrian-Libian grand finale with Egypt blend.
Given the every increasing changes happening in the world the latter seems much more possible.
In both cases, dear Volodya, for a moment, you will make me the happiest men in the world.