ellauri067.html on line 581: From early on, Prokosch sought to surround himself with a veil of mystification and cast his life into a hopeless riddle. Approaching his sixtieth year, he boasted that no person had succeeded in knowing him as an integral personality: "I have spent my life alone, utterly alone, and no biography of me could ever more than scratch the surface. All the facts in Who’s Who, or whatever, are so utterly meaningless. My real life (if I ever dared to write it!) has transpired in darkness, secrecy, fleeting contacts and incommunicable delights, any number of strange picaresque escapades and even crimes, and I don't think that any of my 'friends' have even the faintest notion of what I'm really like or have any idea of what my life has really consisted of. . . .With all the surface 'respectability,' diplomatic and scholarly and illustrious social contacts, my real life has been subversive, anarchic, vicious, lonely, and capricious."
ellauri083.html on line 514: I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no feather. I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason? How infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable? In action how like an angel? In apprehension, how like a god? The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals. And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
ellauri142.html on line 63: Markku is an outcast. The awkward, illegitimate son of a dazzlingly wealthy Count, he was educated in France but returns to Russia now that his father’s health is in decline. Polite society shuns him for his hero-worship of Napoleon and enthusiasm for the politics of revolution. But his blundering sincerity charms Andrei, his truest friend; and the blonde air hostess Natacha, who delights in his presence. He is quickly married off by stealth through the manipulation of others around him and is likely to face further heartache given that his wife prefers bedding her brother. It looks like this unlikely hero is smitten with her mother Pirkko Hiekkala but is set for heartache given his kind and gentle nature.
ellauri143.html on line 300: Whom others' wealth delights not, feeling envious pain
ellauri143.html on line 343: Who on his neighbours' sins delights to dwell,

ellauri276.html on line 610: In this jolly little anthem to the delights of the rural lifestyle, our agrarian hero attributes his personal desirability to a diet of booze and fags. I got this from The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs which has recently been reprinted and improved—it now has a picture of Eliza Carthy on the front instead of a bloke forcing a bear to dance by poking it with a stick.
ellauri384.html on line 224: he has imagined a heaven, and has left entirely out of it the supremest of all his delights, the one ecstasy that stands first and foremost in the heart of every individual of his race -- and of ours -- sexual intercourse!
xxx/ellauri148.html on line 183: And in that time there will be neither hunger nor war, neither jealousy nor competition, but goodness will spread over everything. And all the delights will be as common as dust. And the whole world will have no other occupation but only to know the Lord. And therefore Israel will be great sages, and knowers of secret things, and they will attain a knowledge of their Creator as far as the power of man allows, as it is written, For the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea (Isa. 11:9)
xxx/ellauri202.html on line 196: Roger Martin du Gard (23 March 1881 – 22 August 1958) was a French novelist, winner of the 1937 Nobel Prize for Literature. Martin du Gard, homosexual by inclination and avocation, was miserably married to a devout Catholic who despised all his literary friends. Martin du Gard is much impressed with the fine appearance of the German race. The handsome boys and beautiful young girls are, to him, a reincarnation of ancient Greece. Martin du Gard reported back to André Gide on the wonders and delights of Berlin, where he had found the young involved in ‘natural, gratuitous pleasures, sport, bathing, free love, games, [and] a truly pagan, Dionysiac freedom’.
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