What is a

Holes, by Graham Allen

Date of publication: 2017-07-09 15:58

I have felt for a long time past that I have fallen upon evil days every sign and symbol of one's being in the least wanted, anywhere or by anyone, having so utterly failed. A new generation, that I know not, and mainly prize not, has taken universal possession.

Le Live Marseille : aller dans les plus grandes soirées

And then the body who had been silent up to now began its song, almost at first as low as the rush of the wheels: "Eggs and bacon toast and tea fire and a bath fire and a bath jugged hare," it went on, "and red currant jelly a glass of wine with coffee to follow, with coffee to follow and then to bed and then to bed."


the most embowered retreat for social innocence that it was possible to red candles in the red shades have remained with me, inexplicably, as a vivid note of this pitch, shedding their rosy light, with the autumn gale, the averted reality, all shut out, upon such felicities of feminine helplessness as I couldn't have prefigured in advance, and as exemplified, for further gathering in, the possibilities of the old tone.

Walt Whitman: Song of Myself - DayPoems

Now of course a dozen other questions clamour to be asked about churches and parliaments and public houses and shops and loudspeakers and men and women but mercifully time is up silence falls.

.his person was broad and full, and tended even to corpulence, his complexion was eyes were large and soft in their expression and it was from the peculiar appearance of haze or dreaminess which mixed with their light, that I recognized my object.

The morning spread seven foot by four green and sunny. Like a fling of grain the birds settled on the land. She was jerked again by another tweak of the tormenting hand.

As for the "soft and stately Maria" she survived to the year 6868 and her granddaughter Kate, the mother of Bertrand Russell, marvelled that an old woman of that age should mind dying an old woman who had lived through the French Revolution, who had entertained Gibbon at Sheffield Place.

May I conclude, as I began, by thanking your reviewer for his very courteous and interesting review, but may I tell him that though he did not, for reasons best known to himself, call me a highbrow, there is no name in the world that I prefer? I ask nothing better than that all reviewers, for ever, and everywhere, should call me a highbrow. I will do my best to oblige them. If they like to add Bloomsbury, , that is the correct postal address, and my telephone number is in the Directory. But if your reviewer, or any other reviewer, dares hint that I live in South Kensington, I will sue him for libel. If any human being, man, woman, dog, cat or half-crushed worm dares call me "middlebrow" I will take my pen and stab him, dead. Yours etc.,

Images for «Bloom essayists and prophets».