Vincent van Gogh The Starry Night painting

Vincent van Gogh The Starry Night paintingFrank Dicksee La Belle Dame Sans Merci paintingEdward Hopper Nighthawks painting
It was all over," her mother repeated. "In no time at all. The scanner went away; the panel-lights and the humming went back to normal; I could move my arms and legs again. I'd have thought I dreamt the whole thing -- just as everyone else thinks I did, if they believe I was there at all -- but I still felttender from the heat. You know. And when I went to get up I felt some wetness there -- all of a sudden, thiswetness. And as soon as I felt it, and moved, and felt it clear on up, I realized something hadgone all the way - - and it would have to be the GILES."
Despite her certainty, however -- which I was in better position to share than Anastasia -- Miss Hector had said nothing of the marvelous incident to anyone, even when the GILES was found missing next morning and Dr. Eierkopf had pressed her closely on her evening's work. Not until the fact of was unquestionable -- and unconcealable -- had she confessed it in a panic to her father, the then Chancellor

Ford Madox Brown The Coat of Many Colors painting

Ford Madox Brown The Coat of Many Colors paintingPierre Auguste Renoir La Loge paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Dance at Bougival painting
breakthrough he'd recently achieved and was about to put to use: a precision honing device he called the Infinite Divisor. Attached to one end of the fulcrum-bar, its two opposed milling-heads -- tiny diamond-dust affairs -- would dart along the upper knife-edge, honing it as they went; during their approach to the hole in the escapement-shaft (the point on which the whole assembly pivoted) automatic calibrators would halve and halve again,ad infinitum, the width of the edge, until theoretically it reached a perfect point at the center of the hole and the midpoint of the Tick-Tock swing -- a point whose measurement would incidentally be recorded on the calibrator-gauges.
"One moment, sir!" I protested, dizzied by this conception. Croaker held his sweatshirt-front out from his scars and whimpered a little. "It seems to me-"
"Pretty smart,ja?" He may have been addressing Croaker, whose head he patted, or myself. I agreed that the idea was striking, but wondered about certain theoretical problems which I sensed more than saw articulably: a riddle

Guido Reni Baptism of Christ painting

Guido Reni Baptism of Christ paintingGuido Reni reni Aurora paintingFrancois Boucher The Toilet of Venus painting
certified that only suffering could expiate them, he must believe that Bray was after all what He claimed to be (with stinging heart I heard the pronoun shift to upper-case); Max's encouragement of me, a mere common foundling, must be but one more instance of his perverse Moishianism. . .
"Stop this!" I said. "This is hateful!"
He shrugged. "So hate me, I got it coming."
Stoker thrust his grin through a small square panel at one end of the middle space. "Got so there was a crowd upstairs," he said, as if confidentially. "Mind if I sit in? Maxie breaks me up."
I was too hurt and appalled by my erstwhile advisor's declarations to acknowledge the intrusion, though as always Stoker's grin filled the room like a sound, or odor, or change of temperature.
"Ido hate it when you talk that way!" I cried to Max. "Youmake people hate you. It's like Anastasia, and people taking advantage of her!"

Gustave Courbet Plage de Normandie painting

Gustave Courbet Plage de Normandie paintingThomas Kinkade HOMETOWN MORNING paintingThomas Kinkade HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS painting
among well-educated humans. But it seemed more important to get back to my advising, and when I reverted to that matter, Mrs. Sear changed her tone completely. I could not do better, she declared seriously, than to have Kennard Sear for my advisor, as he was the most knowledgeable man on campus; in fact, he knew all the Answers, despite his perversions.
"Notdespite, my dear:because of. George understands the tragic view."
They kissed most cordially. The mixture of affections in the Sears' relation I found quite as curious as their amatory whimsies, in the goat-barn had left me open-minded in that latter regard. But their goodwill towards me was evident. Gratefully I put myself into their charge, stipulating only that in view of the urgent work at hand we forgo any further embraces --à deux, trois, orquatre, onscreen or off -- for the present.
"I quite agree," the doctor said. The important thing, in his opinion, was for me to by-pass the ordinary machinery of registration and deal only with the highest authorities; otherwise -- since Bray's advent had put the campus into such confusion, and

Daniel Ridgway Knight Shepherdess and her Flock painting

Daniel Ridgway Knight Shepherdess and her Flock paintingDaniel Ridgway Knight Hailing the Ferry paintingSir Henry Raeburn The Reverend Robert Walker Skating painting
poodle or the Dean of Studies! I was still interested sometimes in women then; let a pretty baggage from Theater Arts refuse me her company or make fun of my eyeglasses: I'd point her out to Croacker on the sly, and one night soon I'd have the joy to see her boggle at his awful tup!"
In sum, Croaker could not have survived long on the campus without Eierkopf's help, and the scientist in turn would have had Croaker been shot to death, say, by the father of some ruined sophomore, or lynched by the White Students' Council. However much, then, he might despair at Croaker's grossness, and Croaker perhaps at his roommate's incapacity and frailness; however much they each might yearn at times to live alone or with a partner more congenial -- which yearning Maurice Stoker had lately played upon, for mischief's sake -- at their best they muddled through, strange bedfellows, who in any case were bound by the strictest of leases, which could not be broken before its term. And so strong a thing is custom, Eierkopf declared, he soon could scarcely recall having ever lived alone; it was as if he and Croaker had been together from the beginning, for better or worse. What was more, if their connection was at best uneasy

Albert Bierstadt the oregon trail painting

Albert Bierstadt the oregon trail paintingThomas Kinkade country living paintingGeorges Seurat The Island of La Grande Jatte painting
stay me, but the ladies slow me down.
[TO AGENORA]
Bye-bye now, Deaness; next time I'm in town
I'll look you up.

AGENORA: You know my address, hon.

TALIPED: [TO MAILMAN]
Hey, wait! You mean to tell me I'm the one
you bought and sold?

MAILMAN: Are your feet scarred?

TALIPED: They always have been.

MAILMAN: And your ID-card
saysTaliped Decanus,does it not?

TALIPED: Of course it does.

MAILMAN: And I guess you know what
Talipedmeans?

TALIPED: It means "swollen foot."

MAILMAN: You're It, then, pal.

TALIPED: By George! I never put
two and two together until now!

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: A mathematician you aren't. But tell me how
a woman like your wife can go to bed
for nine years with a man namedTaliped
and never see his scars!

AGENORA: Listen, tootsie:
you and your wife might like playing footsie,
but when a fellow goes to bed with me,
it isn't his big toe I want to see.

Albert Bierstadt Valley of the Yosemite painting

Albert Bierstadt Valley of the Yosemite paintingAlbert Bierstadt the oregon trail paintingThomas Kinkade country living painting
was certain he was failed. He had betrayed, deceived, and defiled Miss Sally Ann in the wanton arms of O.B.G.'s hot daughter -- whom, however, for better or worse, he had once again found himself impotent with and who, ungrateful as always, had laughed at him in the morning when he'd offered to raise her wage. He'd had no choice then but to discipline such uppitiness. And though he loved, honored, and respected his unhappy wife, he was also profoundly troubled by their reciprocal grievances, which he felt sure were justified albeit unjust. In sum, he was so utterly of two minds about himself and his connections with things that he seemed rather a pair of humans in a single skin: the one energetic, breezy, optimistic, self-assured, narrow-minded, hospitable, out-going, quick-thinking, belligerent, and strong; the other apathetic, abject, pessimistic, self-despising, indulgent, rude, introspective, complaisant, uncouth, feckless, and flabby. He had lost faith initially in t

Lorenzo Lotto St Catherine of Alexandria painting

Lorenzo Lotto St Catherine of Alexandria paintingCaravaggio The Supper at Emmaus paintingCaravaggio Taking of Christ painting
and of the Grand Tutor so be it!"
Incredibly, as I mounted swelled and rose to bursting. As ever in goatdom, the service was instant: swiftly as the sunflash smiting now the Founder's Shaft I drove and was done. Anastasia squealed into the cushion, "Ido believe!" and fell flat. Unmuscled at once like Brickett Ranunculus, like him overbalanced by my thrust, I tumbled back and would have fallen had I not been hoist amid a chorus ofolés by Croaker, who caught me from behind and hiked me up on his shoulders. The guards sprang from the dais into the crowd; Dr. and Mrs. Sear, alarm in their faces, pulled Anastasia to her feet and then, as she could not support herself, shrank away and left her leaning against the bier, her face in her hands. I had just had time, as I pitched from the service, to snatch up my stick. Gripping Croaker with my legs I raised it to strike now -- at him, perhaps, or at Stoker, the sight of whom (with my serviced Anastasia limp in his arms) suddenly enraged me -- at anyone, for I was transport with and the aftermath of passion. But when I made

Rembrandt History Painting painting

Rembrandt History Painting paintingJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Perseus and Andromeda paintingGuido Reni Baptism of Christ painting
hips; and while she was in no way comparable to Anastasia, astonishing indeed were the white-salved bosoms against the brown skin, their nipples puckered stoutly under our gaze. Just as fetching was her spirit: having turned full circle she seized her examiner's hair and rubbed his face into the salve, seeing to it he got a beardful despite his merry oaths. The other women chuckled and vowed good-naturedly he had got no more than his desert; by way of compensation for his prank Stoker granted Madge relief from the balance of her shift -- on condition she accompany us, just as she was, to a costume party which he said was in progress in the Living Room.
"Iwondered why your pal had that get-up on!" she said. The prospect of appearing naked and bedaubed before strangers nowise dismayed her; she agreed to go with us, stipulating only that she be permitted to improvise a mask for the sake of her modesty and wear her high-top safety shoes for the sake of her toes, which were afflicted with corns. Stoker consented and fetched a new flask from the first-aid locker while the woman shucked off her denims. Her two companions, loudly envious of her good fortune, pitched in to repaint her, improving their earlier effort with bright-colored tinctures from the locker: her nipples and deep-punched navel they ringed concentrically with red against

Rembrandt Susanna and the Elders painting

Rembrandt Susanna and the Elders paintingRembrandt History Painting paintingJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Perseus and Andromeda painting
That might be smart, Georgie," Max agreed. "These things mean more than they seem to, sometimes. I'd like to have time to think it over before you throw it away."
I shrugged. "You're the advisor." Anastasia gratefully returned the phial to her pocket, as if it were a precious gem, and I pressed her again to account for her the notorious Stoker, which it seemed to me she had been pleased to digress from explaining. My tone was even a bit peremptory, for I was on the one hand impressed by her clearly self-sacrificial behavior with Croaker, her husband, Max, The Living Sakhyan, and myself, and on the other hand vaguely uneasy about it: it disturbed me to see her equally submissive to everyone, the flunkèd as well as the not. Yet sincere as this concern of mine was (which it made me feel quite Grand-Tutorish to express), in the main I was simply flattered by the novelty of being stood in awe of, especially by that lovely creature -- so ready to obey, one could not resist commanding her! Out of all these feelings I demanded

Claude Monet Boulevard des Capucines painting

Claude Monet Boulevard des Capucines paintingHorace Vernet Judith and Holofernes paintingHorace Vernet The Lion Hunt painting
prizewinners be bred -- I had been pleased to assist G. Herrold myself with the first of their matings, just five months previous -- and so it came to pass that on the very midnight of this dream there was born into the herd a male kid who would be registered asTommy's Tommy's Tom. None who saw him as we did next morning could have guessed the role "Triple Thomas" was to play in my future -- indeed, in the history of West Campus. He was unprepossessing enough then, all hoof and knee and scarcely dry from Hedda's womb. But see in retrospect how our lives engaged from the first: it was his mother's labor-cries, very possibly, that set me to dreaming of nannies in distress, and the tragedy of his grandsiring has its place among the dream's significances; it is the entry of his begetting in the stud-books that establishes a date for this conversation; and it was this conversation -- occasioned in its turn first by the dream and again by the relevance of Hedda's own past to its interpretation -- it was this day's conversation, I say, that like the original crime of

John Singer Sargent House and Garden painting

John Singer Sargent House and Garden paintingJohn Singer Sargent Girl Fishing paintingJohn Singer Sargent Dorothy Barnard painting
. Moreover, the machine declared itself able and ready (with the aid of "analogue facilities" and a sophistication dismaying at least to a poor humanist like myself) to assemble, collate, and edit this material, interpolate all verifiable data from other sources such as the memoirs then in hand, recompose the whole into a coherent narrative from the Grand Tutor's point of view, and "read it out" in an elegant form on its automatic printers! The son, as disinclined to as the father but apparently commanding some authority agreed, and in the face of opposition from certain "Gilesians" as well as "anti-Gilesians," the made good its promise. After several false starts and program adjustments it produced a first-person chronicle teachings of the Grand Tutor, a text so faithful to the best evidence and polished in its execution that young Stoker needed only to "change a date or a place-name here and there," as he vowed, to call it finished.
The great test came, he told me, when he took the manuscript to one Peter Greene, an early student of Giles's, now past sixty and the strongest critic of the "WES

Diane Romanello Sunset Beach painting

Diane Romanello Sunset Beach paintingGustav Klimt The Virgins (Le Vergini) painting
the sand and resumed his quiet, placid gaze toward the horizon. Culver watched him: his bitterness dissolved in the hot salty air, slumped in the sand gazing wistfully out to sea, sun-glassed, hairy-chested, a cigar protruding from his face and a beer can warming in his hand, he seemed no longer the man who could sicken himself with resentment, but relaxed, pliable even, like a huge hairy baby soothed by the wash of elemental tides, ready to receive anything, all, into that great void in his soul which bitterness and rebellion had briefly left vacant—all—the finality of more suffering, or even death. War was in the offing. A promenade of waves, snow-crowned like lovely garlands in the dark hair of girls, swelled eastward toward Africa: past those smoky heights, more eastward still, the horizon seemed to give back repeated echoes of the sea, like far-off thunder, or guns. Culver remembered making a quick, contorted motion in the sand with his body, and being swept by a hot wave of anguish. It was , but it was also fright. Across the rim of his memory two

Pablo Picasso Seated Bather painting

Pablo Picasso Seated Bather paintingPablo Picasso Mandolin and Guitar painting
Old Rocky, or whatever they call him, is going to hike along, too."
"You think so?" Mannix said doubtfully.
"I know so. So do you. He wouldn't dare not push along with his men."
Mannix was silent for a moment. Then he said viciously, as if obsessed with the idea that no act of Templeton's could remain untainted by a prime and calculated evil: "But the son of a bitch! He's made for that sort of thing. He's been running around the boondocks for six years getting in shape while sane people like you and me were like humans and taking it easy. Billy Lawrence, too. They're both gung ho. These fat civilians can't take that sort of thing. My God! Hobbs! Look at that radioman, Hobbs. That guy's going to keel over two minutes out—" He rose suddenly to his feet and stretched, his voice stifled by the long, indrawn breath of a yawn. "Aaa-h, fuck it. I'm going to hit the sack."
"Why don't you?"

Thomas Kinkade Boston painting

Thomas Kinkade Boston paintingPeter Paul Rubens Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus painting
Try this one,” said Jack, “and I’ll say it just one time. Tell you what, we could a had a good life together, a f*ckin real . You wouldn’t do it, Ennis, so what we got now is Brokeback Mountain. Everthing built on that. It’s all we got, boy, f*ckin all, so I hope you know that if you don’t never know the rest. Count the damn few times we been together in twenty years. Measure the f*ckin short leash you keep me on, then ask me about Mexico and then tell me you’ll kill me for needin it and not hardly never gettin it. You got no f*ckin idea how bad it gets. I’m not you. I can’t make it on a couple a high-altitude f*cks once or twice a year. You’re too much for me, Ennis, you son of a whoreson bitch. I wish I knew how to quit you.” Like vast clouds of steam from thermal springs in winter the years of things unsaid and now unsayable—admissions, declarations, shames, guilts, fears—rose around them. Ennis stood as if heartshot, face grey and deep-lined, grimacing, eyes screwed shut, fists clenched, legs caving, hit the ground on his knees. “Jesus,”

Johannes Vermeer The Guitar Player painting

Johannes Vermeer The Guitar Player paintingJules Joseph Lefebvre Fleurs des Champs paintingClaude Monet Regatta At Argenteuil painting
think," said Christopher Robin, "that we ought to eat all our Provisions now, so that we shan't have so much to carry." "Eat all our what?" said Pooh. "All that we've brought," said Piglet, getting to work. "That's a good idea," said Pooh, and he got to work too. "Have you all got something?" asked Christopher Robin with his mouth full. "All except me," said Eeyore. "As Usual." He looked round at them in his melancholy way. I suppose none of you are sitting on a thistle by any chance?" "I believe I am," said Pooh. "Ow!" He got up, and looked behind him. "Yes, I was. I thought so." "Thank you, Pooh. If you've quite finished with it." He moved across to Pooh's place, and began to eat. "It doesn't do them any Good, you know, sitting on them," he went on, as he looked up munching. "Takes all the out of them. Remember that another time, all of

Rene Magritte Homesickness painting

Rene Magritte Homesickness paintingRene Magritte High Society paintingRene Magritte Donna painting
Haggard's castle splayed up towards a gray-green morning sky splashed with thin, milky clouds. Molly was sure that the king himself must be watching from one of the tremulous towers, but she could not see him. A few stars still fluttered in the heavy blue sky over the water. The tide was out, and the bald beach had the gray, wet gleam of a stripped shellfish, but far down the strand the sea was bending like a bow, and Molly knew that the ebb had ended.
The unicorn and the Red Bull stood facing each other at the arch of the bow, and the unicorn's back was to the sea. The Bull moved in slowly, not charging, but pressing her almost gently towards the water, never touching her. She did not resist him. Her horn was dark, and her head was down, and the Bull was as much her master as he had been on the plain of Hagsgate, before she became the Lady Amalthea. It might have been that same hopeless dawn, except for the sea.
Yet she was not altogether beaten. She backed away until one hind foot actually stepped into the water. At that, she sprang through the sullen smolder of the Red Bull and ran away

Alphonse Maria Mucha JOB painting

Alphonse Maria Mucha JOB paintingAlphonse Maria Mucha Gismonda paintingAlphonse Maria Mucha Dance painting
looked at herself: sideways at her shoulders and along her arms, then down her scratched and welting body. She stood on one foot to inspect the sole of the other; cocked her eyes up to see the silver brows, squinted down her cheeks to catch a flash of her nose; and even peered closely at the sea-green veins inside her wrists, themselves as gaily made as young otters. At last she turned her face to the magician, and again he caught his breath. I have made magic, he thought, but sorrow winked sharp in his throat, like a fishhook setting fast.
"All right," he said. "It would make no difference to you if I had changed you into a rhinoceros, which is where the whole silly myth got started. But in this guise you have some chance of reaching King Haggard and finding out what has become of your people. As a unicorn, you would only suffer their fate—unless you think you could defeat the Bull if you met him a second time."
The white girl shook her head. "No," she answered, "never. Another time, I would not stand so long." Her voice was too soft, as though its bones had been broken. She said, "My people are gone, and I will follow them soon, whatever shape you trap me in. But I would

Claude Monet The House on the River Zaan in Zaandam painting

Claude Monet The House on the River Zaan in Zaandam paintingClaude Monet The Fields of Poppies paintingClaude Monet The Corner of the Garden at Montgeron painting
the harpy." He turned then and headed straight for Mommy Fortuna's wagon.
"Run," the magician said. He made a frantic, foolish, flying leap and landed on Rukh's back, hugging the dark man dumb and blind with his long arms. They fell together, and Schmendrick scrambled up first, his knees nailing Rukh's shoulders to the earth. "Barbed wire," he gasped. "You pile of stones, you waste, you desolation, I'll stuff you with misery till it comes out of your eyes. I'll change your heart into green grass, and all you love into a sheep. I'll turn you into a bad poet with dreams. I'll set all your toenails growing inward. You mess with me."
Rukh shook his head and sat up, hurling Schmendrick ten feet away. "What are you talking about?" He chuckled. "You can't turn cream into butter." The magician was getting to his feet, but Rukh pushed him back down and sat on him. "I never did like you," he said pleasantly. "You give yourself airs, and you're not very strong." Heavy as night, his hands closed on the magician's throat.
The unicorn did not see. She was out at the farthest cage, where the manticore growled

childe hassam In a French Garden painting

childe hassam In a French Garden paintingEdgar Degas The Orchestra of the Opera paintingEdgar Degas Song of the Dog painting
family says that the Immortal was once a handsome young man who made his living for of normal people by hunting in the marshes. This was two to three thousand years ago, it is believed. The Immortal cannot hear what you say or see you, but is glad to accept your prayers for its well-being and any offerings for its support, as it is entirely dependent on the Roya family for food and shelter. Thank you very much. I will answer questions."
After a while I said, "It can't die."
She shook her head. Her face was impassive; not unfeeling, but closed.
"You aren't wearing gauze," I said, suddenly realising this. "The children weren't. Aren't you—"
She shook her head again. "Too much trouble," she said, in a quiet, unofficial voice. "The children always tear the gauze. Anyhow, we don't have many flies. And there's only one." * It was true that the flies seemed to have stayed behind, in the town and the heavily manured fields near it.

Rembrandt The Abduction Of Ganymede painting

Rembrandt The Abduction Of Ganymede paintingRembrandt Saskia As Flora paintingRembrandt Musical Allegory painting
fingers, my face... And I was so weak I couldn't stand up. I got out of bed and fell down on the floor and I couldn't get up. I lay there calling my mother, "Mama! Mama, please come!" She was asleep. She worked late, waiting in a restaurant, till way after midnight, and so she slept hard. And I could feel the floor getting hot underneath me, I was so hot with fever, and I'd try to move my face to a cooler place on the floor...
Well, I don't know if the pain eased off or I just got used to it, but it was a bit better after a couple of months. It was hard, though. And long, and dull, and strange. Lying there. But not on my back. You can't lie on your back, ever, you know. Hard to sleep at night. When it hurt, it always hurt most at night. Always a little fevery, thinking strange thoughts, having funny ideas. And never able to think a thought through, never able quite to hold on to an idea. I felt as if I myself

Gustave Courbet Forest in Autumn painting

Gustave Courbet Forest in Autumn paintingTheodore Robinson View of the Seine paintingTheodore Robinson Willows and Wildflowers painting
The Great Joy Corporation had concentrated population in one archipelago and forbidden sailing in or out of that area. "Burn boats," Esmo So Mu said briefly.
He had been born on an island south of the holidayIslands and was now living there again. "Lots more money if I stay to work at the hotel," he said, "but I don't care." I asked him to tell me about his home. "Oh," he said, and laughed again. "You know what? In my Home there's no holidays! Because we are so lazy! We work one, two hours, in , then we don't work. We play, we play with the children. We go sail. We fish. We swim. We sleep. We cook. We eat. We sleep. Why do we want a holiday?"
But Cousin Sulie was disappointed to find that the management has changed. "I don't expect I'll go back this August," she told me rather sadly, when I called to wish her a happy birthday. "It just doesn't seem like it would be like Christmas if it was a different nationality. Do you think?"

Thomas Kinkade Yawkey Way painting

Thomas Kinkade Yawkey Way paintingThomas Kinkade Town Square paintingThomas Kinkade PARIS EIFFEL TOWER painting
WHEN I'M IN MAHIGUL, a peaceful place nowadays though it has a bloody history, I spend most of my time at the Imperial Library. Many would consider this a dull thing to do when on another plane, or indeed anywhere; but I, like Borges, think of heaven as something very like a library.
Most of the Library of Mahigul is outdoors. The archives, bookstacks, electronic s for the leg-emats are all housed underground in vaults where temperature and humidity can be controlled, but above this vast complex rise airy arcades forming walks and shelters around many plots and squares and parklands—the Reading gars of the Library. Some are paved courtyards, orderly and secluded, like a cloister. Others are broad parks with dells and little hills, groves of trees, open lawns

Frida Kahlo paintings

Frida Kahlo paintings
Frederick Carl Frieseke paintings
Flamenco Dancer paintings
perhaps another migrant takes their place. If they find an old person dead by the roadside, they bury the body. On its back, with the feet to the north: going There are many, many graves along the roads north, Kergemmeg said. Nobody has ever made a fourth migration.
The younger people, those on their first and second migrations, hurry on, crowded together in the high passes of the mountains, then spreading out ever wider on a myriad paths through the prairies as the Middle Lands widen out north of the mountains. By the time they reach the northland proper, the great rivers of people have tasseled out into thousands of rivulets, veering west and east, across the north.
Coming to a pleasant hill country where the grass is already green and the trees are leafing, one of the little groups comes to a halt. "Well, here we are," says

Vincent van Gogh Reaper painting

Vincent van Gogh Reaper paintingEdmund Blair Leighton Lady in a Garden paintingEdmund Blair Leighton Stitching the Standard painting
of semen within the lips of the vulva. Finally, as to whether she did or did not get the orgasm would depend upon how much she was excited, not upon her procreative power at the time - as it is certain that a sterile woman may have intense orgasms.
To get the sperm-cell of a healthy male to the ovum of a hy female is the one important matter in conception, and how it is done, provided it is effectually done, seems of minor importance, perhaps of no importance at all.
* * * *
To sum up: The orgasmal school is honest but mistaken. Its fault is that it is a doctrine of the strong, only for the strong. Just as a man may spend money recklessly for a while and still not be poor, so a man rich in thyroxin and adrenalin may spend recklessly in orgasms for a while and not seem any the worse. And the method, taught by the orgasmal school is such that it creates a demand, by congestion, for the orgasm, which must then occur or bad results follow. But for a weak man to follow their advice is very dangerous and courts a nervous breakdown, while my method builds him up. That orgasms are weakening is easily proven. Just as the way to get real facts about alcohol is to companies, so to get facts about the orgasm

Albert Bierstadt Sacramento River Valley painting

Albert Bierstadt Sacramento River Valley paintingAlbert Bierstadt The Mountain Brook paintingAlbert Bierstadt Bridal Veil Falls Yosemite painting
is not one of these methods that does not destroy, for the woman, all the poetry of the act." Only in Karezza is the poetry fully preserved, and not only that, but made capable of development to the most refined nuances of artistic and ingenious delight. Only to the Karezza-lover is the Art of Love possible in any sense worthy of the name. All the others begin the performance by shutting off the musicand throwing away the wine.
But as the Woman Movement grows I am sure Karezza will come into its own. As women learn its transcendent importance to their Happines\ and health, they will demand it and refuse all men that cannot supply that demand. That will be a force th\at cannot be withstood.
Woman is by birth the Queen of Love and will certainly assume her inheritance and control in her own sphere and realm.

Salvador Dali Les trois sphinx de bikini painting

Salvador Dali Les trois sphinx de bikini paintingSalvador Dali Figure at a Window paintingSalvador Dali Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a Pomegranate painting
limping rapidly towards him around the bank, leaning on his walking stick.
'I've been hoping to have a word ... do you mind if I walk a little way with you?'
'No,' said Harry indifferently, and set off again.
'Harry, this was a dreadful tragedy,' said Scrimgeour quietly, 'I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Dumbledore was a very great wizard. We had our disagree-ments, as you know, but no one knows better than 1 -'
?What do you want?' asked Harry flatly.
Scrimgeour looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified his expression to one of sorrowful understanding.
'You are, of course, devastated,' he said. 'I know that you were very close to Dumbledore. I think you may have been his favourite ever pupil. The bond between the two of you -'
'What do you want?' Harry repeated, coming to a halt.
Scrimgeour stopped too, leaned on his stick and stared at Harry, his expression shrewd

Peter Paul Rubens Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus painting

Peter Paul Rubens Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus paintingWinslow Homer Gloucester Harbor paintingEdward Hopper The Long Leg painting
Let us walk," said Dumbledore quietly. "Be very careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me." He set off around the edge of the lake, and Harry followed close behind him. Their footsteps made echoing, slapping sounds on the narrow rim of rock that surrounded the water. On and on they walked, but the view did not vary: on one side of them, the rough cavern wall, on the other, the boundless expanse of smooth, glassy blackness, in the very middle of which was that mysterious greenish glow. Harry found the place and the silence oppressive, unnerving.
"Professor?" he said finally. "Do you think the Horcrux is here?"
"Oh yes," said Dumbledore. "Yes, I'm sure it is. The question is, how do we get to it?"
"We couldn't... we couldn't just try a Summoning Charm?" Harry said, sure that it was a stupid suggestion. But he was much keener than he was prepared to admit on getting out of this place as soon as possible.

Frederic Edwin Church The Icebergs painting

Frederic Edwin Church The Icebergs paintingFrederic Edwin Church Cotopaxi painting
Of course, this puts you in a bit of a dilemma, doesn't it?" said Hermione.
"What d'you mean?" said Harry quickly.
"The Quidditch team," said Hermione. "If Ginnyand Dean aren't speaking . . ."
"Oh — oh yeah," said Harry.
"Flitwick," said Ron in a warning tone. The tiny little Charms master was bobbing his way toward them, and Hermione was the only one who had managed to turn vinegar into wine; her glass flask was full of deep crimson liquid, whereas the contents of Harry's and Ron's were still murky brown.
"Now, now, boys," squeaked Professor Flitwick reproachfully. "A little less talk, a little more action . . . Let me see you try. . . ."
Together they raised their wands, concentrating with all their might, and pointed them at their flasks. Harry's vinegar turned to ice; Rons flask exploded.
"Yes ... for Homework," said Professor Flitwick, reemerging from under the table and pulling shards of glass out of the top of his hat, "practice."

Lord Frederick Leighton Perseus and Andromeda painting

Lord Frederick Leighton Perseus on Pegasus Hastening to the Rescue of Andromeda painting
Lord Frederick Leighton Perseus and Andromeda painting
in the common room; the only other people awake were fellow sixth years. There had been a cer-tain amount of excitement earlier when they had come back from dinner to find a new sign on the notice board that announced the date for their Apparition Test. Those who would be seventeen on or before the first test date, the twenty-first of April, had the option of signing up for additional practice sessions, which would take place (heavily supervised) in Hogsmeade.
Ron had panicked on reading this notice; he had still not man-aged to Apparate and feared he would not be ready for the test. Hermione, who had now achieved Apparition twice, was a little more confident, but Harry, who would not be seventeen for an-other four months, could not take the test whether ready or not.
"At least you can Apparate, though!" said Ron tensely. "You'll have no trouble come July!"
"I've only done it once," Harry reminded him; he had finally managed to disappear and rematerialize inside his hoop during their previous lesson.

William Bouguereau The Song of the Angels painting

William Bouguereau The Song of the Angels paintingLeonardo da Vinci picture of the last supper painting
couldn't make him an antidote, could you? I'd take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we're not supposed to have anything from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and, you know ... awkward questions ...'
Td have thought you could have whipped him up a remedy, Harry, an expert potioneer like you?' asked Slughorn. 'Er,' said Harry, somewhat distracted by the fact that Ron was now elbowing him in the ribs in an attempt to force his way into the room, 'well, I've never mixed an antidote for a love potion, sir, and by the time I get it right Ron might've done something serious -'
Helpfully, Ron chose this moment to moan, 'I can't see her. Harry - is he hiding her?'
'Was this potion within date?' asked Slughorn, now eyeing Ron with professional interest. 'They can strengthen, you know, the longer they're kept.'
That would explain a lot,' panted Harry, now positively wrestling with

Albert Bierstadt The Mountain Brook painting

Albert Bierstadt The Mountain Brook paintingAlbert Bierstadt Bridal Veil Falls Yosemite painting
He was not fooled; for all Scrimgeour's talk that they had just been in the area, that Percy wanted to look up his family, this must be the real reason that they had come, so that Scrimgeour could speak to Harry alone.
"It's fine," he said quietly, as he passed Lupin, who had half risen from his chair. "Fine," he added, as Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to speak.
"Wonderful!" said Scrimgeour, standing back to let Harry pass
through the door ahead of him. "We'll just take a turn around the garden, and Percy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone!"
Harry walked across the yard toward the Weasleys' overgrown, snow-covered garden, Scrimgeour limping slightly at his side. He had, Harry knew, been Head of the Auror office; he looked tough and battle-scarred, very different from portly Fudge in his bowler hat.

Alphonse Maria Mucha Spring painting

Alphonse Maria Mucha Spring paintingAlphonse Maria Mucha Moet and Chandon White Star paintingAlphonse Maria Mucha La Dame aux Camelias painting
Pass me a bowl," said Hermione, holding the pulsating pod at arm's length; Harry handed one over and she dropped the pod into it with a look of disgust on her face.
"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, they're best when they're fresh!" called Professor Sprout.
"Anyway," said Hermione, continuing their interrupted conver-sation as though a lump of wood had not just attacked them, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."
Harry groaned. Meanwhile, Ron, who was attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up, and squashing it as hard as he could, said angrily, "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"