ellauri008.html on line 602: Subtle like a hammer, limber as a snail,

ellauri097.html on line 300: They were lean years when the men ate garden snails and drank cooking sherry, years when they were mostly happy.
ellauri099.html on line 226: Very low rope barriers separated off areas that visitors were not meant to visit. I looked around for a guard, saw no one, and stepped onto the green moss and made my way quietly to the location of Aristotle’s library. On my hands and knees, I saw the ground was littered with tiny delicate snail shells, no bigger than a fingernails, scattered like empty scholars’ backpacks. My partner gave me one, and I put it in my pocket. I had it on my desk right in front of me as I was writing this. Inadvertently, I crushed it to pieces under the weight of one of Mr. Staikos’s huge tomes on the history of libraries. There’s probably a moral in this, but it escapes me. The moral is this: fucking Americans, keep your fat butts and greedy fingers off European soil!
ellauri100.html on line 768: One crawl’d like a snail,
ellauri100.html on line 807: Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
ellauri146.html on line 749: And over the sea wet church the size of a snail Ja meren yli märkä kotilon kokoinen kirkko
ellauri171.html on line 941: When your messenger arrived, the army was humiliated and the city was sacked. Our food in the threshing floors was burnt and the vineyards were also destroyed. Our city is sacked. May you know it! May you know it! Damn the snail mail!
ellauri266.html on line 300: Slower than a snail on morphine.
xxx/ellauri085.html on line 118: Plot Summary: A soundless mix of story fragments and images. Initially, images of death, a man with a guitar, a soirée. Some images are surreal: an older woman eats a leaf; a headless man pours a cocktail into his body. A woman in white walks toward a building, isolated and in ruins, where a man waits. Then more images, some in reflections, some distorted, many in close-ups: women's feet in high heels, two bare feet at play, a snail, a knife, a mask, a woman mugging next to it. Women provocatively dance. A woman's face, staring without affect, rises partially out of water. Now wearing a dark jacket, the woman in white runs as if for her life. Is death at hand, or just images?
xxx/ellauri178.html on line 362: On 25 May 1901, Chekhov married Olga Knipper quietly, owing to his horror of weddings. She was a former protégée and sometime lover of Nemirovich-Danchenko whom he had first met at rehearsals for The Seagull. Up to that point, Chekhov, known as "Russia's most elusive literary bachelor," had preferred passing liaisons and visits to brothels over commitment. For the rest, he lived largely at Yalta, she in Moscow, pursuing her acting career. In 1902, Olga suffered a miscarriage; and Americans have offered evidence, based on the couple's letters, that conception may have occurred when Chekhov and Olga were apart, although Russian scholars have rejected that claim. Perhaps the semen was conveyed from Yalta to Moscow by snail mail.
xxx/ellauri227.html on line 344: Despite the titillating title, there's no sex to speak of in Marklund's second thriller featuring Swedish reporter Annika Bengtzon. The events in this book precede those in The Bomber, which introduced Annika as a successful newspaper editor. Here we see her eight years earlier, working as a summer intern at the same Stockholm paper. A young stripper's body is found in a city park, and as Annika and her colleagues investigate, they discover some strange links between the murder, high-ranking Swedish officials, and an illegal espionage operation long since disbanded. Meanwhile, Annika is struggling with a clingy boyfriend and learning the ins and outs of reporting in a competitive environment. These struggles are more compelling than the crimes she is investigating, and the action tends to move at a snail's pace until the rushed climax. However, fans of The Bomber will enjoy a second dose of spunky Annika and the realistic newsroom scenes. An author's note gives helpful background information on Swedish politics and the real-life inspiration for the story.
xxx/ellauri235.html on line 830: "Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail, Voisitko kävellä nopeammin? sanoi jokka varkaalle.
xxx/ellauri235.html on line 839: But the snail replied "Too far, too far!" and gave a look askance — Mutta siihen vastasi tuo etana: liian pitkälle! ja kazoi vinosti -
xxx/ellauri235.html on line 847: Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance. Älä kalpene, hyvä etana, lähde kaikin mokomin ulos skönelle.
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