Archive for the ‘The Joy Of Words’ Category

Prepared to die

“I detest your views, but am prepared to die for your right to express them” — Voltaire


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Bits and Bobs

“Life is not only for me to live”

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Sweetes thing!

“There was something about him, sitting at the table as he waded through the mountains of paperwork demanded by the Byzantine military bureaucracy of Italy, that made her look up at him regularly, as though by conditioned reflex. No doubt his mind was on sorting out the family problems of his soldiers; no doubt he was tactfully suggesting to a bombardiers wife that she go to a clinic for a check-up; no doubt he was signing requisitions forms in quadruplicate; no doubt he was trying to work out why a consignment of antiaircraft shells had mysteriously turned up in Parma, and issue combinations. No doubt; but all the sam, every time she looked up his eyes would flick to hers and she would be caught in his steady and ironic gaze as surely as if he had grasped her by the wrists.

For a few seconds they would look at one another, and she would grow abashed, her cheeks would flush a little, and she would return her attention to her crochet,knowing perhaps she had slighted him by so breaking away, but cognisant also of the brazenness of holding his regard for one moment longer. A few seconds later she would look up furitvaly, and at that exact instance he would return her glance. It was impossible. It was infuriating. It was so embarrassing as to be an humiliation.

“Iv got stop doing this,” she would resolve, and, and convinced that he was deep in his tasks, would look up and get caught again. She tried to control herself rigidly, saying to herself, “I wont look at him for another hald hour.” but all to no avail. She would sneak a glimpse, his eyes would flicker, and there she would be again, imprisoned by an amused smileand a raised eyebrow.

She knew that he was playing a game with her, that she was being teased and taunted so gently that it was impossible to protest or to bring it out into the open in order to make and issue of it. After all she never caught him looking at her, so it was all her fault, obviously. Nonetheless, it was a game of which he had absolute command, and in that sense she was its victim. She decided to change her tactics in this war of eyes. She decided that she would not be the one to break the impasse; she would wait for her spirit to fail, she would wait for her sporot to fail, she would wait until it was he who broke away. she composed herself, summoned up every last spark of resolution, and looked up.

They looked at one another for what seemed like hours and Pelagia wondered absorbedly if it was considered technically legitimate to blink. his face fell out of focus , and she concentrated on the bridge of his nose. It too began to blur, and she switched from back to his eyes. But which eye? It was like the paradox of Buridans ass: an equal choice yields no decision. She concentrated upon his left ey, which seemed to grown into and wavering void, and so she changed to the right eye. Its pupil seemed to transfix her like on owl. How strange, the one eye should be a bottomless chasm and the other a weapon on honed as a lance. She began to feel horrible vertigo.

He did not look away. Just as her giddiness was about to confound her, he started pulling faces, all the while holding her in his gaze. He flared his nostrils rhythmically, and then waggled his ears. He barred his teeth like horses, and started to move the tip of his nose form side to side. He leered horribly, like a satyr, and then grimaced.

A smile began to tug at the corners of Peligieas mouth, and the tugged harder. Finally it pulled irresistibly, and she suddenly laughed aloud and blinked. Corelli sprang dancing to his feet, capering ridiculously and crying, “I won, I won!” “

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“He took the old man over to the window, threw open the shutters, and an explosion of midday heat and light instantaneously threw the room into an effulgent dazzle, as though some importunate and unduly luminous angle had misguidedly picked that place for an epiphany.”

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“Sylvia: We must be serious now. My stars say I shall marry a man of distinction, and ill look at nothing less.

Dorante: If that were me I’d feel threatened, and go in fear of proving my horoscope. I’m an atheist over astrology… but a profound believer in your face.

Sylvia: (to herself) What a pest he is! (to Dorante) Will you stop this? What’s it matter to you that my destiny rules you out?

Dorante: It didn’t predict that I would fall in love with you.

Sylvia: No, but it said it wouldn’t do you one bit of good, and i can tell you its right. You are capable of talking about something else besides love, I presume?

Dorante: From the moment you’re capable of not inspiring it.

Sylvia: Really, this is outrageous, I’m going to lose my temper. Once and for all, will you stop being in love with me!

Dorante: If you stop being.”

Clearly she cant get enough 😛

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