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fuzzyporcupine · 3 years

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lead me with your hands tied | chapter 5

chapters:

FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

rating: explicit

word count: 10,592

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

chapter 5:

The tea was cold before Levi could enjoy it. He found the pot sitting neatly atop a wooden desk near his bed, a white porcelain cup perched beside it. To be fair, it surprised Levi to see the set had been dropped off in his room. He figured that Petra would deprive him of the tea considering his brash behavior back in the studio. She had taken the tea with her after she exited the workshop, leaving Levi open-mouthed and speechless at her words.

They were hard to swallow. Repeated endlessly in his mind until he was absolutely positive that the sentence would be permanently ingrained into his thoughts.

“He is not his father.”

The statement was hard to believe, especially after the prince’s pompous display. Even more so knowing who produced the bastard. Petra was probably ignorant to the truth, he supposed. Of course, the woman defended Eren Jaeger. She bloody worked for him. His lips pursed tightly as he yanked the white cravat from his neck. All these exasperating thoughts were giving him a damn headache. He knew that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and the fucking maid wasn’t going to change his mind.

Levi glanced down at the cravat wrapped tightly in his clenched fist.

It just figured that the prince didn’t even need to open his boorish mouth to infuriate Levi.

The stranglehold slowly loosened around the cloth, revealing a set of unattractive wrinkles set deep into the fabric. Levi’s brow ticked angrily at the sight. Ironing was always such a chore, the tool heavy and clunky to work. He was used to light brushes, not weighted iron. It was the reason why he took such great care to not crease his clothing. However, now it seemed as if he would have to swallow his pride and pay the housekeeper a visit. That is if she would be willing to even entertain his presence. He really did have to work on his tact. Though that feat was easier said than done. Levi was a terrible conversationalist. And even worse at controlling his sharp tongue. That much had been made apparent by the way Eren stormed out of the studio. Levi faintly wondered if the prince confided the embarrassment to his father. Eren appeared way too prideful for that, however, as Petra so plainly put it, “He is not as you have constructed in your mind, sir.”

A scoff broke bitterly across his lips.

No, Eren Jaeger was exactly as he’d constructed. Arrogant and spoiled. Completely unaware of the detriment his goddamned father had brought upon the kingdom. So, an idiot, as well.

Indeed, the people of Shinganshina had a prime package in store for them after the king finally croaked.

He deposited the cravat onto the desk before his anger decided to ravage more of the cloth. Heavy-lidded eyes panned to the teapot still resting on top of the mahogany.

“Fuck it,” he breathed, turning sharply to exit the room.

A cup of cold tea just wasn’t going to cut it tonight.

The air of the tavern smelled like a rancid combination of stale beer and bile. Levi’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he stepped around a patron snoozing soundly face-first on the muddy floor. Hoots and hollers of drunken idiots sounded off in multiple directions. Many were dancing poorly in the center of the alehouse, men and women linking arms and twirling in stumbling circles. Others could be seen banging their fists on the cheap wooden tables or clinking together full tankards of beer.

It was a complete shithole, but a welcome change of scenery from the gaudy decor of the castle keep. Even if the majority of the customers were Shinganshina forces.

He did his best to ignore the bubbling unease stirring in his gut as he walked to the bar. In the back of his mind, he knew this was a horrid plan. Being in a room with this many soldiers did nothing but cause his pulse to race and his blood to boil. Levi tried to reason that a drink would surely help cloud his mind well enough to forget about the guilt. At least for one night.

“Mr. Ackerman!” The booming voice cut through the air like a beacon, and despite the knowledge of knowing just exactly who that call belonged to, Levi still turned his head. The general stood from his place at the bench, a large palm extended upward into a wave. Levi’s face twisted into a grimace, lip curling as he regarded the blond man. Instead of replying, Levi promptly ignored the caller, finding the thought of nursing a terrible drink much more appealing than the abysmal company.

He slid into one of the empty stools placed sporadically in front of the bar. Pointy elbows lifted to rest atop the counter before he noticed the number of miscellaneous substances splattered across the surface.

Truly a complete shithole, he thought.

“Irene, give my friend here a heavy pour.” Levi huffed irritably as he turned his head towards the man. He expected General Smith to pick up on the hint. Weren’t military officers supposed to be good at reading situations?

“I don’t need your coin,” he spoke, tone sharp and unwavering.

“Don’t be so sour, Mr. Ackerman. It’s impolite to deny such a small act of hospitality.” The man finished the sentence with a gleam of shiny straight teeth. All of which Levi wanted to ram his fists firmly through.

“Hospitality,” Levi mockingly spit the word back at the general. Thought about the people locked outside the heavy iron gates. All the good that hospitality got them, huh?

“I would assume a man like you from Mitras would understand the meaning of the word.”

Levi grit his teeth, “Listen, you fucking-”

“Ah, thank you, Irene.” Erwin passed a single gold coin to the portly woman as he reached for the full tankard. Foam sloshed over the edge and splashed loudly onto the countertop as the man slid the cup over the Levi. He caught it easily in his palm, fingers wrapping around the lukewarm mug. Thin lips fitted snugly around the brim as he took a swig, a cringe immediately making itself visible as he swallowed down the liquid. “It’s not exactly His Majesty’s wine, huh?”

Levi narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t some fancy noble who only lived off drink that tasted of sweet berries and flowers. He took another gulp.

“It tastes like damn horse piss.”

“That’s a kind description,” Erwin laughed, bringing his own mug up to his lips regardless. Levi hummed before returning to his drink. The unease in his gut had returned tenfold sitting next to the general. It felt like he was walking a very thin line of treason and camaraderie as he remained perched in the uncomfortable barstool, neither of which he felt very keen on exploring. “Why did you accept this commission, Mr. Ackerman?”

The question was a trick, it had to be. Some sort of convoluted way of getting Levi to admit secret desires that he’d been able to keep safely stored away inside his head. A manipulative query from an even more manipulative man. However, he was not some gossiping wench who spent their days fantasizing about the next public execution.

A tight sigh blew out from his nose, rippling the beer in the tankard. “The coin.”

“Hah! And you say you didn’t need mine? Why, Mr. Ackerman, I’m insulted.”

His nostrils flared hotly as he turned to the man. “I don’t need the coin of some military pig who slaughters innocents on the king’s orders,” he whispered lowly. Levi’s eyes widened slightly with the admission.

Shit.

At first, Levi almost believed that Erwin didn’t hear him. That his words were lost to the drunken merriment within the tavern. However, when the general’s expression darkened he knew the insult had been heard loud and clear.

“You have an eye for war, Mr. Ackerman?” Erwin’s voice sounded different now. Cold. Calculated. It was enough to bring the hairs on the back of Levi’s neck to a peak.

His voice remained steadfast as he spoke, “I never said that.” But he said enough. Enough to out himself as one who openly detested the king’s commands.

However, Erwin continued as if Levi hadn’t said a word. “Everyone thinks you are from Mitras, correct? It’s a fine town. Lovely people. However, I’m almost positive that Mitras has been wholly unaffected by the war.” Levi’s throat started to tighten as his grip around the mug strengthened. “No mass casualties besides the fools who throw themselves willingly onto a soldier’s blade. So, where are you really from, Levi?” The breath sucked into the bottom of his lungs was short and sharp. Felt as if he had been doused with a bucket of icy water as cool, blue eyes analyzed his expression.

Swallowing the ever-rising fear clawing at his chest, Levi schooled his face into a neutral look. “I’d think you’d worry more about your soldiers shitting their pants from all this pig swill.” He swiveled his body out of the barstool, boots landing flatly in the dirt with a satisfying smack. Abandoning his nearly full mug, Levi resented that this night would surely end with him sipping cold tea instead of welcoming a much-needed buzz. Suddenly, a hand wrapped securely around his wrist. Instinctively, Levi wretched his limb away, the grip all too familiar to that of manacles attached to an iron chain.

“Do not fear, Mr. Ackerman. I believe our paths may be more linear than I originally suspected.” Levi could only offer a narrowed glare as the man vacated the seat and returned to the rowdy group of soldiers who cheered eagerly at Erwin’s return.

Bunch of bloody neanderthals, he thought with a sneer.

Despite it being the middle of summer, the air had taken quite a chill once the sun receded below the horizon. As it was now, Levi shivered once stepping foot outside the tavern walls. The walk back to the keep was not long, but he was positive that his bones would be brittle by the end of it. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, Levi began his march back to his chambers.

He’d only made it a few feet before a familiar shout managed to draw his attention to a dark corner shadowed by hay bales and wagons. Levi had never been a particularly curious boy. Always knew to leave well enough alone when well enough could send a knife between your ribs. This trait followed him into adulthood, and it had served him well thus far. So, it was completely perplexing as to why his movements began to drift toward the sound.

Pressed up against the wall was a woman, her dress lifted scandalously against thick, voluptuous thighs. Legs were tangled securely behind the man’s back, jolting as he moved against her. The tailcoat thankfully protected the man’s modesty as Levi glanced down to spot breeches bundled gracelessly around tanned ankles.

Levi knew he should leave. This didn’t exactly look like an intimate moment being shared between lovers, more like two souls just trying to enjoy release behind the courtyard stables. However, he was frozen. Eyes glued to the way the moonlight reflected off the woman’s upturned neck. The fingers digging bruises into the soft skin. Levi couldn’t look away.

Maybe it was the beauty behind the act. The delicate lines that he could envision painted on a canvas. All sweeping motions that portrayed an act of love and not some meaningless roll in the hay.

“Hey! What are you doing?” A feminine voice yelled out, breaking his imaginings as his eyes refocused on the sight. The woman looked horrified, hands adjusting the ruffles in her dress as she glanced at him with disdain. “You absolute cretin. Sneaking around the courtyard like this.”

Levi was unperturbed by her comments, gaze hardening under her stare. He’d heard much worse in his lifetime, been called far crueler things. “Your squawking was hard to ignore. I thought a poor beast had been mangled behind the stables. Turns out I was only half wrong.”

The woman’s face reddened, mouth opening and closing like a fish being tossed on dry land.

“Don’t mind the artist, dear.” Still facing the wall, the prince adjusted himself, deft hands fastening the white breeches. When Eren turned around, it was with a sinful smirk that caused his jaw to tighten and palms to sweat. “He’s probably never fucked a woman before and was curious to see how it was done.”

Levi’s teeth clenched so hard that he was sure the bones would break.

Eren stepped forward, a lecherous look in the emerald stare. Despite the man’s best efforts, the clothes were still disheveled. A plum waistcoat was hanging open, the cloth shirt beneath it only buttoned halfway. His gaze betrayed him as Eren closed in, roaming across the exposed skin of the man’s upper chest. Tracing the lines from collarbone to abdominals. Levi swallowed hard lest he began to look like the wanton woman left against the mossy brick wall. Once the prince reached Levi, a hand reached out. Those nimble fingers he had watched skirt up the side of the canvas now latched themselves to his chin. “Am I wrong?” Eren’s breath reeked of booze and the man’s eyes were slow to focus.

“You’re drunk,” Levi muttered, making a half-assed attempt to free himself from the prince’s grip. The man just squeezed tighter, and Levi imagined the unsightly bruise that would surely appear the next morning. Eren was lucky. If not for his royal blood, Levi would have already broken his wrist and sent him home wailing. Nevertheless, Levi let the boy king manhandle his face to meet a glazed expression.

“I would teach you. If you begged.” The confession was whispered into the night, darkly sweet and melting into his ears. A toothy smile spread across Eren’s face as Levi felt heat begin to extend across his cheeks.

“You think too highly of yourself, Your Highness,” Levi sneered.

The smile didn’t fade from the prince’s expression. Instead, a thumb lifted to trace Levi’s bottom lip, as that lustful gaze flitted down to his mouth.

“Perhaps you’re right, artist.” Then the hold was gone, the feeling of those long, nimble fingers leaving fire in their wake. The prince turned away, unsteady steps taking him back to the waiting woman. Eren wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they began to walk in the direction of the tavern. A hand was nonchalantly thrown up into the wind. “Get a good night’s rest, artist. I shall see you bright and early if my stomach allows it.”

Levi watched as they moved further and further away until the pair disappeared behind the tavern doors.

Left alone in the chilly summer breeze, Levi felt resolute in his thinking that, indeed, Eren Jaeger was just like his father.

#ereri #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot #attack on titan #riren #fic: lead me with your hands tied #fuzzyporcupine #thespazzbot

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atths--twice · 4 years

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The days since Scully left have blended together, leaving Mulder unsure of how long it has been. He is lost and broken without her beside him.

Chapter Six

Broken

September 2014

Mulder opened his eyes and groaned. His head was pounding and the light streaming through a crack in the curtains and into his eyes, did not help. He turned over and buried his face into the back of the couch.

Moving his shoulders, he groaned again, his muscles complaining about the lack of comfort they were getting of late. Since Scully left, he had not slept in their bed, but crashed at random times on the couch. He had not been upstairs to do anything since he discovered all of Scully’s clothes gone from their closet.

After he pulled himself from the floor, he grabbed his toothbrush, toothpaste, some underwear, shirts, sweats, and the blanket off the foot of their bed. He closed the door as he headed downstairs, having no desire to enter their room again. Not right now, anyway.

He dropped all the items on the coffee table, wrapped himself in the blanket, and fell on the couch. His body and soul were tired and in desperate need of rest. His dreams were fitful, with large hands pointing at him, and Scully’s voice coming from far away and him unable to find her, no matter how hard he looked.

He woke up sobbing for her and waiting for her hand to fall on his neck, telling him it was okay, and she was right beside him. When he realized that was not going to happen, he cried harder, and did not move from the couch. Not for the entire day.

The next morning, or early afternoon, he got up and used the bathroom for what seemed like forever. He brushed his teeth, rummaged in the fridge but found no food that seemed appetizing, walked back to the couch, laid back down, and fell asleep in minutes.

He woke up in the middle of the night famished and made some microwave popcorn, although it was not his first choice. He ate it rapidly and then drank two glasses of water, his stomach churning the entire time. He sat at the table and put his head down on it, his mind spinning.

Closing his eyes, he simply sat there, not caring to move, or making any plans to do anything productive. He listened to himself breathing, felt the air going in and out of his lungs, hypersensitive to every wheeze and every catch.

He could hear the clock ticking on the wall and it seemed to be mocking him. Every tick was a second longer, then a minute, then an hour that Scully was gone and not there with him. It was time that he would never get back, his mistakes realized, but no chance to put them right. He got up from the table and went back to his cocoon on the couch, burrowed inside, and fell asleep once again.

It was later in the afternoon when he woke up, his body heavy and achy. He recognized what it was now and he fairly crawled into his office, looking for his medication. The room was still trashed, with glass on the floor, and papers everywhere.

He found his bottle of pills, opened it and took one out, swallowing it down dry. He also looked in the desk drawer for the anti-anxiety pills Scully had given him, “in case of emergency.” He rolled his eyes at the time, but took them from her. He was thankful for them now as he swallowed one down.

He sat back against the wall and closed his eyes, knowing the anti-anxiety pill would give him the bump he needed, but also knowing it was not going to be a quick fix. He simply needed something to help him feel better than he did at the moment.

He fought Scully that he was not depressed because he was still up and moving around, as if that was the only sign of depression. Such a fool he was to not listen to her then, and what an idiot he was to not recognize what was happening now.

He needed to eat, to drink something. The popcorn was not giving him any type of nourishment and he needed something else. Fifteen more minutes and he was able to push himself to his feet and stumble into the bathroom, using the toilet, brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face. He did not look at himself in the mirror, not wanting to see his reflection.

He went into the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards, searching for something easy and quick. Finding a couple cans of soup, he made tomato soup and toast, the bread not quite gone yet. He ate slowly, his stomach clenching as he did. When he was finished he put the pot and the bowl in the sink, not bothering to wash them.

He picked up a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, drinking it down in a few gulps. Putting the glass down, he opened the fridge, again looking for something to eat. It was pretty slim, but there was some things he could make, but not right then. He opened the freezer and spotted the bottle of vodka.

He took the bottle out, noting that there were some frozen dinners in the freezer as well. He placed the bottle on the table and stared at it. That bottle had been in the freezer for over two years. Neither he nor Scully drank much, but one night she had decided to have mixed drinks.

“What’s this?” he asked, as he took it from the paper bag. “Who’s drinking this?”

“We are,” she said, taking it from him and putting it on the table, before she added a bottle of peach schnapps, orange and cranberry juice. “We’re having sex on the beach tonight.” She raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled at her.

“Sex on the beach sounds … sandy,” he said, with a glance at her, as he reached for two glasses.

“Oh, not this type of sex. It’s very smooth and tasty,” she said in a sultry voice, handing him the vodka, her fingers sliding across his as he held the bottle.

“Just how I like it,” he responded, and she smirked.

The drinks were delicious, although she seemed to like them more than he did, as they made her very flirty. She was very handsy that night, as she reminded him of the fun they had, dancing under the stars that night on their private island.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to think of those times right now, swaying on his feet as he stood there. God, he was tired, the medicine was making him feel sluggish.

Back he stumbled to his makeshift bed, laying down and closing his eyes. He hoped the medicine would start to work soon and would help him when he woke back up. Right now, he just needed to sleep and try to feel better.

His dreams once again were strange. Scully was there and dancing around the living room, like the night they had the drinks. Music he could not place, was playing softly nearby, and she was smiling as he got closer to her. She pulled him close, and then put her mouth to his ear, whispering to him.

“You broke my heart, Mulder. I entrusted it to you and you’ve broken it,” she leaned back and her eyes were full of tears. They fell down her cheeks and filled the house, both of them floating in a sea of her tears.

She called out for him to help her, that she was getting tired trying to stay afloat. He saw her go under and he swam down searching for her. The furniture in the room blocked him as he tried to call out for her underwater. He finally found her and tried to pull her up but she just stared at him, her broken heart in her hands. She shook her head and handed him her heart, then closed her eyes.

He called out to her, trying to put her heart together, hoping that would save her, and make her open her eyes. He fumbled, the pieces slipping from his fingers, and he could not grab them again. Her eyes opened and she stared at him, her look hurting him more than any pain he ever suffered.

She moved and the pieces of her heart came to her, but she swam away from him, not looking back. He watched her disappear and he knew that he was not the one to fix her heart. He had lost that chance when he lost her. The water began to recede from the room and soon he was standing in the living room, alone and empty handed.

He woke up coughing and retching, doing what he could to dispel the water he could feel in his lungs. It felt as if her tears were drowning him and he could not breathe. Sitting up he clutched at his chest as his own tears began to fall. He did this, he did this to her, to him, to them.

He pushed the blanket off of himself and stood up. Still coughing, he walked to the table and picked up the bottle of vodka, opened it, and took a big drink. It burned in his chest, but he took another big drink before setting it down and closing it again.

This was not the answer, he knew that, but he needed it right now. He fell to his knees and thought of the pain in Scully’s eyes as he was unable to fix her heart. It was a dream, but it was also the truth. She had given him her heart, and he dropped it, letting it float away from him.

The vodka was making him feel dizzy and he leaned forward, placing his face on the floor. He closed his eyes and could hear his heart beating, the blood pumping loudly, like listening to the ocean in a seashell. He laid there, the room spinning, until he fell asleep once again.

Waking up on the floor, especially at his age, hurt like a son of a bitch. His back complained loudly as he started to stand up. He got as far as onto his knees before he had to stop and stretch his arms above his head and roll his neck. He pushed to his feet and stretched once again.

He walked to the office and again picked up his bottles of pills, swallowing one of each down, before closing the lids, and this time bringing the bottles to the coffee table. He felt better this morning than he had in the past couple of days, which meant the anti-anxiety pills at least were starting to work.

He missed a few doses of his antidepressants, and the result was not one he wanted to repeat again. He would be sure to stay on top of it now, let it catch up to where it needed to be, and not let a dosage slip his mind.

He opened the curtains, letting the sun stream in. Walking into the kitchen, he made some coffee, more toast, and some scrambled eggs. He ate them all at the table and then took his cup of coffee to the porch, needing more than just the sun from the windows. He needed some fresh air. It was hot as he stood there, no idea what day it was or how long it had been since Scully had left. He lifted the coffee cup to his lips and got a whiff of himself. He closed his eyes at the pungent smell of his body and his clothing, disgusted with himself.

Turning around, he went back in the house, closed the door, and set his cup on the table. He went into the bathroom and started the shower, glad this house had a full bathroom downstairs so he did not have to go upstairs. He took all his clothes off and stepped into the shower.

He stayed in there for what felt like hours, letting the medication, food, and warm water help him to feel better. Turning off the water, he grabbed a towel and dried off, wrapping it around himself as he walked into the living room to grab some clothes. He dressed and toweled off his hair before throwing the towel on a dining room chair.

He poured another cup of coffee and decided to sit on the porch again. Opening the door, he found a basket in the corner. His heart pounded, thinking maybe Scully had come by and tried to get in touch with him. He stepped quickly to the basket and found food in containers, and a note in between them.

He lifted the top container and immediately recognized Mrs. Scully’s handwriting. He read her note, his heart dropping, and his breath catching in his chest. He could feel her anger even through simple words on paper, and it hurt him to his core.

Aside from Scully, she was the only person he would ever want to cause pain or sadness. That she had been there and attempted to help, yet had been let down, made him feel terrible.

He read the note again and looked up, wondering how close they had been to just missing each other. Bending down, he picked up the basket and brought it inside, setting it on the table. He took out the food and found lasagna, a casserole, and lemon cake. He shook his head at the kindness she showed to him, regardless of how shitty she must think he is, hurting her daughter and causing her pain.

He opened the lasagna and the smell of it brought tears to his eyes. The first time he ever ate her lasagna, he raved about it and had three servings in one sitting. Scully had been aghast at the amount of food he ate, but Mrs. Scully had smiled and then laughed, her eyes bright and happy. Before they left, she slyly handed him a container of leftover lasagna and he grinned. She winked at him and he kissed her on the cheek. If she had not already cemented herself in his heart, that would have done it.

Smelling it now, knowing she made it specifically for him, broke his heart but also filled it with hope. He picked up a fork and ate a few bites, closing his eyes and relishing in the taste of real homemade food instead of the basic stuff he had made. He closed the container and picked up the lemon cake, opened it and took a huge bite.

His stomach rumbled as if growling its approval for finally eating something fulfilling. Closing the container after a few bites, he put everything in the fridge. Turning around, he looked at the kitchen and the house in general. It was a disaster and the thought of cleaning it up before Mrs. Scully came back, made him feel tired. Shaking his head, he decided he would do it tomorrow. Right now, he had something he needed to do.

He picked up the vodka bottle and dumped it in the sink. The smell of it turned his stomach and made him feel sick. He never really did care for it and he definitely did not like it now. Watching it go down the drain had no effect on him other than it was something he needed to take care of.

He put it in the basket, put Mrs. Scully’s note on the fridge with a magnet, picked up the basket, and opened the front door. He set the basket down, and sat in the chair on the porch. It was warm out and the breeze felt nice, but he felt like a shell of a person. Empty, dried out, and broken.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and put his head back. He sat on the porch for a while, until he felt the temperature change a little. He got up and went inside, locking the door behind him, and closing the curtains. He thought of grabbing some more to eat, but decided against it and instead laid down and thought of what would happen tomorrow.

He would thank Mrs. Scully for the food and the care, but she did not need to be dragged into this with them. It was not fair to her and she had no idea what she would be getting into with him. He could not ask or expect that from her. She would understand, she was a reasonable woman.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep, no dreams to disturb him. He did not stir until a loud banging sound woke him and he sat up quickly as he looked around. He heard it again and he stumbled to the door, opening it to find Mrs. Scully standing there.

The sunlight blinded him for a few seconds, but when he was able to focus on her, he knew she would not be leaving him. She had the same determined look on her face that Scully got when she was about to prove to him he was wrong.

He stared at her, seeing her gaze falter for a second as she stared at his face, before she set it once again and put her keys in her purse. She raised her eyebrows and looked at him, before ducking past him and walking into the house.

He closed the door and turned to look at her. She was looking around at the house, her eyes staying for awhile on the couch, her face looking sad. Her eyes found his and she squared her shoulders.

“Well, Fox,” she said, giving him a small smile. “It looks like we have our work cut out for us.”

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #X Files Novel #Angst #Sadness #Heartbreak #Breakup #Separated #Trying to get through the pain

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firstchinesebbq · 4 years

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Pros:

Easy to use

Ideal for searing chicken thighs

Cons:

None

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Pros:

Features comfortable, padded handles

Offers a lifetime warranty

Cons:

Doesn’t sear meat as well as a stainless-steel set

3. Calphalon Premier Space-Saving Nonstick 10-Piece Set

Buy from Amazon

We like that this product is made of anodized aluminum along with a Teflon-free nonstick finish, this feature provides superb performance and long-lasting use. Calphalon Premier Space-Saving Nonstick 10-Piece Set is ideal for those with a small kitchen as it stacks smaller, thereby saving 30% more space.

Moreover, it is easy to use and wash, just throw into the dishwasher and keep it thereafter. The handles stay cool even while the heat is high; it features flat tempered glass covers which adds to its save saving feature. It has a great heat distribution, boils quickly, and sears your meals evenly and perfectly.

Furthermore, its nonstick coating is another feature we like as this prevents the burning of meals. It is also oven safe and can be used at a temperature as high as 450oF. It is also compatible with many types of oven ranges including electric coil, halogen, gas, electric, and glass cooktops.

Pros:

Great space saving cookware set

Comes at a good price-point

Cons:

Durability needs to be improved

4. Farberware Neat Nest Space-Saving Nonstick Cookware Pots and Pans Set

Buy from Amazon

This is another space-saving cookware set with an added advantage of being lightweight. Despite its weight, it is well balanced and features thick handles that stay cool while cooking. It has high-performance aluminum construction, this ensures quick heating, thereby eliminating hot spots that can burn food burn. Its saucepans are oven safe while the cookware set features premium nonstick interiors to provide amazing food release and easy cleanup after use.

Farberware Neat Nest Space-Saving Nonstick Cookware Pots and Pans Set features dual-riveted handles along with a neat nest interlocking design, this helps to nest saucepots together and protect the nonstick surface as it ensures only minimal contact.

The cooking set is made of shatter-resistance glass lids which seal in moisture and heat while also acting as a convenient base when the pots and pans are nested inside each other. It is oven safe and can be used at a maximum temperature of 350oF.

Pros:

Made of high-performance aluminum and is nonstick

Sturdy, strong and yet lightweight

Cons:

Not dishwasher safe

5. Anolon Advanced Hard-Anodized Indigo 12-Piece Cookware Set

Buy from Amazon

Away from the regular silver or black colored cookware you know, Anolon Advanced Hard-Anodized Indigo 12-Piece Cookware Set offers you amazing quality, durability, and high performance in a cool indigo color. It is made of durable hard-anodized construction, that is twice as hard as stainless steel while promoting even heating.

We like that its lids are made of shatter-resistant glass, this helps in heat retention. It has a triple-layer PFOA-free nonstick surface and is metal utensil safe thereby ensuring long-lasting use. Its exclusive sure-grip handle ensures a comfortable confident grip as the handles are rubberized and dual riveted.

Pros:

Made of high-quality materials

It is aesthetic

Cons:

None

6. All-Clad Essentials Nonstick Cookware Set

Buy from Amazon

Another product that made it to our list and for good reasons too is the All-Clad Essentials Nonstick Cookware Set. This heats food evenly and prevents your meals from sticking or burning, it will also brown meat to perfection. The product which can go in the oven for up to 500oF features small and medium Sautee pans, both of which can go into a larger pan for a compact storage.

We love its helper handle as this ensures easy moveability of the products, we are particularly enthralled by its 13-inch square pan, a size ideal for baking, browning, and braising, the cookware set is dishwasher safe too.

It is durable and made of heavy-gauge anodized aluminum to provide even heating and prevent warping. Also, it is compatible with gas, ceramic, electric, and halogen tops making it a versatile product. Its long-lasting, PFOA-free nonstick surface ensures an effortless release.

Pros:

Made or ergonomic handle for comfortable, easy grip

Durable, with compact storage

Cons:

It’s not scratch-resistant

7. Scanpan CTX 14-piece Stainless-Steel Cookware Set

Buy from Amazon

There are not enough words to describe this amazing product. Not only is it durable, it has a unique design that will add beauty and style to your kitchen. With Scanpan CTX 14-piece Stainless-Steel Cookware Set, you can have the beauty of stainless steel and the convenience of a nonstick, Teflon free finish.

It is ideal for high-heat searing, with an oven heat tolerance of up to 500oF. Also, it is easy to clean with comfortable handles that make it easy to hold while also being lightweight. It includes 2 skillets, 4 saucepans, a sauté pans and a Dutch pan.

Besides, it is made of a unique ceramic-titanium PFOA-free nonstick surface that will neither warp, peel, scratch, or blister. Its squeeze cast body eliminates hotspots thereby ensuring even heating and browning. It is dishwasher safe and also has a lifetime warranty hence you can make a confident purchase.

Pros:

Dishwasher and oven safe

Features a lifetime warranty

Cons:

Has a high price point

8. Rachel Ray Cucina Hard-Anodized Nonstick Cookware Pots and Pans Set

Buy from Amazon

We round off our list with Rachel Ray Cucina Hard-Anodized Nonstick Cookware Pots and Pans Set. It scores high for its great heat distribution capacity as well as its ability to prevent stains. It is also easy to release and is great for browning. The product which is PFOA-free does not stick, hence it can be washed easily while preventing your food from getting burnt.

Also, it features dual-riveted handles along with shatter-resistant glass lids. It is oven safe and dishwasher safe too. This cookware set is ideal for all cooktops except induction with an oven heat tolerance of up to 400oF. Featuring a lifetime warranty, you can go ahead and make a confident purchase.

Pros:

Comes in four unique colors

Offers a lifetime warranty

Cons:

Not ideal for induction

Conclusion

Cooking is an art and like every other work of art, it requires the best instruments to optimize its potential and bring out incredible results that will leave you speechless. Do you desire easy meal preparation without compromising on the taste, aroma, and flavor of your meals? If yes, then do not hesitate to buy one of the products we have reviewed in this article. These cookware sets promise you the best and even more. In the end, your family, friends, and your taste bud will thank you for the delicious meals only the best cookware sets are capable of producing.

The post Top 8 Best Cookware Sets of 2020 | Consumer Reports appeared first on First Chinese BBQ.

source https://www.firstchinesebbq.com/best-cookware-sets/

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thenightlywine · 4 years

Text

I wrote this recipe out for my friend Jerrold who’s allergic to poultry and has missed out on the joy of far too many pot pies. When you’re done, you’ll have more stew than can fit in a pie, so maybe bake some bread for those juicy leftovers!

Here’s what you need:

STEW INGREDIENTS:

- 3-4lbs brisket or other cheapish fatty beef roast, chopped into 2″ cubes - 6 slices bacon (unseasoned recommended), cut crosswise into 1″ pieces - 1 lb potatoes, chopped into bite-size pieces - 1 lb carrots, peeled and chopped into bite-size pieces - 2-3 large ribs celery - Stems of 1 bunch parsley - Big handful of rosemary, thyme or other woody herb - 2-3 bay leaves, fresh or dried - 1 large or 2 medium cooking or Spanish onions, diced - 3 ample cloves garlic, smashed or roughly chopped - 1 lb meaty mushrooms, cut into half-inch pieces (optional) - 1-2 oz dried mushrooms (optional; shiitake are great) - 6 cups (2 cartons) beef or other stock - 4 tbsp butter or oil (or a combination of both, optional) - 1 bottle fruit-forward red wine - Up to 1/2 cup corn starch, flour or other thickening agent - 1 bag frozen peas - Salt & pepper to taste

DOUBLE PIE CRUST (if making):

- 2 cups flour - 1/2 cup sour cream - 1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter - 2 tsp sugar - 1 tsp salt

OR STORE-BOUGHT PUFF PASTRY (if u a chump):

- Enough pastry for a double-crust pie (I’ve never done this, you’re on your own)

EQUIPMENT:

- 6 quart Dutch oven or other big, ovenproof pot - Paella pan or other large, high-sided pan with lid (optional, but helpful) OR a bowl as large as your Dutch oven - Standard pie plate - Large slotted spoon - Pastry brush - Kitchen twine

Notes on equipment: You can make this using only the dutch oven, but since ingredients are browned separately before combining I find it helpful to sear the ingredients in my paella pan and transfer each to the Dutch oven as they’re ready. I’ve written the recipe as I prepared it, but if you’re doing a single-pot cook, just imagine “transfer to Dutch oven” says “transfer to your big bowl”.

Notes on veggies: “bite-size” is up to you, but remember they’re going in a pie, so imagine a little meat, a little veg, and some crust on your fork when chopping these babes. All the mushrooms in this recipe are optional, but I recommend simmering dried mushrooms in the stock as they add a beautiful complexity to the jus.

Notes on thickening: I used red creamer potatotes, which aren’t very starchy but retain their shape. A Russet potato will crumble as it cooks, but that starch will thicken the stew broth, so you won’t have to use quite as much thickener later.

Notes on wine: Any bold red of your choosing will do for this recipe. I asked my local wine expert for a fruit-forward, jammy bottle for this recipe. They recommended the Cavaliere D’Oro Primitivo (2017) for about $10. It’s grapey and juicy but neither sweet nor bitter, with enough tannins that the leftovers will pair nicely with the finished meal.

MAKE THE CRUST:

You can use store-bought crust, but this no-fail sour cream pie crust recipe is truly foolproof and so easy, I’ll be disappointed if you don’t give it a go. I’ve doubled the ingredients above for the double crust a pot pie requires. (Pro tip: the scraps make excellent cheese straws when baked with a little cheddar!)

If making your own crust, it requires some time to chill, so you can make this ahead and chill up to 2 days ahead of use or make it once the stew is in the oven.

MAKE THE STEW:

1. PREHEAT OVEN to 250° F.

2. COOK BACON. In a large pan (if using) or dutch oven, sweat the bacon over medium-low heat to melt the fat. Reduce heat if bacon begins to burn too quickly—low and slow will get you the clearest fat without the char. Remove bacon before it burns and set aside. Eat the bacon, save the fat.

3. SIMMER DRIED MUSHROOMS (optional). Meanwhile, if including, combine dried mushrooms and 3 cups beef broth in a pot and simmer together until mushrooms have softened all the way through, about 15 minutes. Strain out mushrooms and set aside if using.

4. BROWN BEEF. Fry the cubed beef in the bacon fat over medium-high heat, turning until most sides are browned, 2-3 minutes per side. If using a smaller pan or dutch oven, brown the beef in batches, leaving room between pieces so that any fluid the meat releases can evaporate. Transfer pieces to Dutch oven as they’re ready, leaving juices in the pan.

5. CHOP DRIED MUSHROOMS (Optional). Once cooled, chop the strained dried mushrooms into bite-size pieces and transfer to Dutch oven. (I didn’t love the texture when I did this the first time, so I omitted for future preparations.)

6. COOK MUSHROOMS. If including, sweat chopped mushrooms, covered, for about 10 minutes. Once nicely browned on one side, remove the lid, turn lightly and allow any fluid to evaporate, 1-4 minutes more. Transfer to Dutch oven.

7. COOK CARROTS. Add a tablespoon of butter or oil to the pan. Cook the chopped carrots until lightly browned and crispy on one side, about 5 minutes. Turn lightly and cook another 5 minutes. Transfer to Dutch oven.

8. COOK ONIONS. Add a tablespoon of butter or oil to the pan. Reduce heat to medium and add the onions, stirring to coat. Sweat, covered, until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes, stirring once halfway through. Transfer to Dutch oven.

9. COOK GARLIC. Add a tablespoon of butter or oil to the pan. Add garlic and fry to your preference—I cook my garlic until just aromatic, about 90 seconds. Transfer to Dutch oven.

10. DEGLAZE PAN. Increase heat to medium-high. Deglaze with about 1/2 cup red wine and let reduce until glossy. Carefully transfer to Dutch oven.

11. ADD POTATOES. Add raw potato pieces to the Dutch oven.

12. BOUQUET GARNI. Make a bouquet of all the herbs you wish to include, fashioning to minimize pieces falling out. Encircle with parsley ribs and wrap tightly with kitchen twine. Add to Dutch oven (I like to bury it in the chopped ingredients so everything sits flush).

13. COVER WITH BROTH. Combine beef-mushroom fluid)

14. BAKE 4 HOURS or until veggies are fork-tender and beef soft tissue is rendered. Check at the 2 hour mark—if more than 1/2″ of the stew is uncovered, top up with water.

15. SEASON TO TASTE with salt and pepper.

TO ASSEMBLE THE POT PIE:

Gravy tip: a hot broth will incorporate your thickening agent better. If your broth has cooled, heat it up before thickening.

1. PREHEAT OVEN to 375° F.

2. STRAIN INGREDIENTS. Once the stew is cool enough to handle, remove the bouquet garni. Transfer ingredients to a bowl—you want enough meat and veggies to fill the pie with about an overall 1/2″ mound.

3. REDUCE BROTH. Simmer fluid over medium high heat until fluid is reduced by half and begins to thicken.

4. THICKEN GRAVY. Transfer 1/2 cup of the reduced stew broth to a bowl and whisk in 1/4 cup corn starch or other thickening agent, 1 Tbsp at a time, until liquid is smooth and glossy. Return thickened mixture to the pot and stir to combine. Repeat to desired thickness—you’re looking for a slightly runny, gravy-like consistency that won’t saturate your crust before it’s started to bake.

5. FORM BOTTOM CRUST. Roll the crust out according to these directions or as your prepared puff pastry requires. Transfer to pie plate, press into form and trim edges, leaving about a 1/4″ overhang. Prick pie bottom and edges with the tines of a fork to aerate.

6. FILL THE PIE. Transfer ingredients to the pie plate in layers, pulling apart large chunks of meat into bite-size pieces with your fingers. Add frozen peas to each layer as you go. You can also add fresh herbs at this step if you wish. Leave as little space between chunks as possible. Stop when your filling is 1/2″–1″ above the crust edge.

7. ADD GRAVY. Spoon enough gravy into the mixture that it fills the crevices, stopping 1/4″ shy of the rim of the pie plate. The amount will vary by vessel.

8. FORM TOP CRUST. Roll your second crust as you did the first and transfer to top of pie. Trim edges, leaving about a 1″ overhang. Tuck the edge of the top crust under the edge of the bottom crust to form a seal. Crimp and cut slits to your preference.

9. EGG WASH. Mix 1 whole egg and a teaspoon of water into a smooth slurry. Brush the exposed crust of the pie with the slurry.

10. BAKE THE PIE. Bake uncovered for 30-45 minutes, turning 180° once as your oven requires, until the crust is golden brown.

LET COOL AND SERVE!

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stolte-sawa · 4 years

Text

Boeuf Bourguignon-Style Pot Pie

Here’s what you need:

STEW INGREDIENTS:

DOUBLE PIE CRUST (if making):

- 2 cups flour - 1/2 cup sour cream - 1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter - 2 tsp sugar - 1 tsp salt

OR STORE-BOUGHT PUFF PASTRY (if u a chump):

- Enough pastry for a double-crust pie (I’ve never done this, you’re on your own)

EQUIPMENT:

MAKE THE CRUST:

If making your own crust, it requires some time to chill, so you can make this ahead and chill up to 2 days ahead of use or make it once the stew is in the oven.

MAKE THE STEW:

1. PREHEAT OVEN to 250° F.

9. COOK GARLIC. Add a tablespoon of butter or oil to the pan. Add garlic and fry to your preference—I cook my garlic until just aromatic, about 90 seconds. Transfer to Dutch oven.

10. ADD POTATOES. Add raw potato pieces to the Dutch oven.

11. BOUQUET GARNI. Make a bouquet of all the herbs you wish to include, fashioning to minimize pieces falling out. Encircle with parsley ribs and wrap tightly with kitchen twine. Add to Dutch oven (I like to bury it in the chopped ingredients so everything sits flush).

12. COVER WITH BROTH. Combine beef-mushroom fluid)

13. BAKE 4 HOURS or until veggies are fork-tender and beef soft tissue is rendered. Check at the 2 hour mark—if more than 1/2″ of the stew is uncovered, top up with water.

14. SEASON TO TASTE with salt and pepper.

TO ASSEMBLE THE POT PIE:

Gravy tip: a hot broth will incorporate your thickening agent better. If your broth has cooled, heat it up before thickening.

1. PREHEAT OVEN to 375° F.

3. THICKEN GRAVY. Transfer 1/2 cup of the stew broth to a bowl and whisk in 1/4 cup corn starch or other thickening agent, 1 Tbsp at a time, until liquid is smooth and glossy. Return thickened mixture to the pot and stir to combine. Repeat to desired thickness—you’re looking for a slightly runny, gravy-like consistency that won’t saturate your crust before it’s started to bake.

4. FORM BOTTOM CRUST. Roll the crust out according to these directions or as your prepared puff pastry requires. Transfer to pie plate, press into form and trim edges, leaving about a 1/4″ overhang. Prick pie bottom and edges with the tines of a fork to aerate.

5. FILL THE PIE. Transfer ingredients to the pie plate in layers, pulling apart large chunks of meat into bite-size pieces with your fingers. Add frozen peas to each layer as you go. You can also add fresh herbs at this step if you wish. Leave as little space between chunks as possible. Stop when your filling is 1/2″–1″ above the crust edge.

6. ADD GRAVY. Spoon enough gravy into the mixture that it fills the crevices, stopping 1/4″ shy of the rim of the pie plate. The amount will vary by vessel.

7. FORM TOP CRUST. Roll your second crust as you did the first and transfer to top of pie. Trim edges, leaving about a 1″ overhang. Tuck the edge of the top crust under the edge of the bottom crust to form a seal. Crimp and cut slits to your preference.

8. EGG WASH. Mix 1 whole egg and a teaspoon of water into a smooth slurry. Brush the exposed crust of the pie with the slurry.

9. BAKE THE PIE. Bake uncovered for 30-45 minutes, turning 180° once as your oven requires, until the crust is golden brown.

LET COOL AND SERVE!

0 notes

blockzone06-blog · 5 years

Text

This Fluffy No-Churn Ice Cream Pie Is the Perfect Summer Treat

[Photographs: Vicky Wasik]

During my recipe testing for homemade Klondike bars last summer, I made countless iterations of a no-churn ice cream based on Swiss meringue. Its fluffy, cloud-like consistency and clean, neutral flavor provided the perfect foundation for the pure vanilla filling found in a Klondike bar.

My earliest efforts were mere combinations of Swiss meringue and whipped cream, which gave the "ice cream" a wonderful richness and fresh dairy flavor, along the lines of DQ soft serve, but firm enough to slice. Problem was, however delicious, these versions were too creamy for a Klondike bar, which has a firm and pleasantly icy bite, and it was a touch too soft to hold the sharp corners that make each square so satisfying.

Eventually, I discovered that adding a splash of milk could provide the ice cream with the texture I needed, but I never stopped thinking about the "failure" that came so close. While it had a wonderfully light and creamy texture, the Klondike aspirations at its heart made it too firm for scooping. Bad news for a proper ice cream, but brilliant for an ice cream pie!

Like the fluffy quarts of supermarket ice cream that can miraculously survive the journey home from the store, this ice cream is ultra airy, so it melts with preternatural slowness—another quality that's ideal for slices of pie, particularly in warm weather.

If you've ever made Swiss meringue, whether to top a pie or for a buttercream, the overall process will be familiar; the only difference will be a bit of whipped cream folded in at the end. And if you've gone so far as to try my homemade Klondike bars, you'll be in familiar territory, as well.

The first step is to prepare a cookie-crumb crust. Because I can't resist the combination of chocolate and vanilla, I like to use homemade Oreos crushed into crumbs (wafers only). Store-bought Oreos will, of course, work equally well.

With a little melted butter, they come together in a crust that will be nice and crunchy once frozen.

If Oreos aren't your jam, let personal preference guide your choice. The crust will taste great with store-bought or homemade Biscoff, as well as commercial or made-from-scratch graham crackers (there's a recipe in my cookbook, BraveTart: Iconic American Desserts), or even crispy gingerbread cookies in winter months. Whatever the style, gluten-free cookies will do just fine here, as well.

To make the "ice cream" filling, prepare a water bath by filling a wide pot with a few inches of water, with a thick ring of crumpled foil placed in the bottom.

The ring acts as a booster seat, so that when I place my stand mixer bowl over the water, it will sit high, touching neither the water nor the pot itself. This allows steam to flow freely around the bowl, gently warming the eggs with indirect heat.

When the bowl touches the water, the bottom of the pot, or even the sides (thus forming a lid to the pot), the heat will be too strong and direct, leading to scrambled whites. If you're using a stand mixer that comes with a footed bowl, skip this setup and use a glass or ceramic bowl instead of the stand mixer bowl (in which case, it's fine for the bowl to touch the sides of the pot).

Bring the water to a boil, then adjust the heat to maintain a gentle simmer; the idea is to generate lots of steam, rather than to let the water boil hard. Meanwhile, combine the egg whites with plain or toasted sugar, salt and lemon juice or cream of tartar in the bowl of a stand mixer (along with the salt, those last two function as seasoning rather than structural elements, a touch of acidity to bring balance to the sweet fluff).

While stirring and scraping constantly, warm the egg whites and sugar over the steaming water until they reach approximately 172°F (77°C). In a stainless steel stand mixer bowl, this should take only about five minutes; a slower timeline simply indicates a lack of steam, so adjust the heat as needed to move things along.

When the meringue reaches the proper temperature, transfer the bowl to a stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment and whip on medium-high speed until it's fluffy, thick, stiff, and incredibly light.

The timing of this phase will vary depending on the power of the mixer itself, but it generally takes from five to eight minutes, giving the meringue ample time to cool.

Once the meringue is ready, it's time to whip the cream and vanilla to stiff peaks as well. This can be done by hand (or with a hand mixer) in a separate bowl, or the meringue can be scraped into another container so the stand mixer bowl and whisk can be re-used for the task (no need to wash either, bits of meringue will not interfere with whipping the cream).

However you go about it, fold the whipped cream and meringue together with a flexible spatula or with a wide, open balloon whisk. It can be a touch tricky to assess the white-on-white mixture, but work patiently to ensure they're homogenous so the ice cream is evenly textured. At this stage, try a bit of the "ice cream" and doctor it with additional salt and vanilla (or other extracts) as desired, bearing in mind its sweetness will be less noticeable once frozen.

Finally, and this is a completely optional step, fold in a handful of rainbow sprinkles.

It's a celebratory touch that makes the pie feel fit for a party, but if that's not your jam it's strictly a matter of aesthetics, so feel free to leave them out (or swap in chocolate sprinkles instead).

If you have my cookbook, however, homemade sprinkles can also provide a pop of flavor in the pie, such as bright pink strawberry sprinkles or flecks of minty green.

Scrape the filling into the prepared shell, then cover it loosely but thoroughly with plastic and freeze until it reaches an internal temperature around 0°F. Due to the thickness of the pie, this can take quite some time—eight hours at the least.

That means it's nearly impossible to make and serve this pie in one day, but, by the same token, it's a fantastic make-ahead dessert, whether it's prepared the night before or the week before an event.

Slice the pie with a large chef's knife, warmed in hot water, then wipe the blade clean and rewarm between each slice. It's a bit time consuming, to be sure, but it will ensure beautifully clean slices.

Because the no-churn ice cream is mounded into a mile-high presentation, thin slices can go a long way, making it the sort of pie that's fit for a crowd. You'll have no trouble cutting out 12 pieces, but with care it can easily serve up to 16 (especially at the end of a heavy meal, when appetites for dessert may be slightly repressed).

Thanks to its light texture and delicate flavor (no egg yolks for any heavy custard notes), it's a refreshing end to any summer meal. So if you have a soft spot for the clean and refreshing flavor of the ice cream in a Klondike bar, or like the idea of a frozen dessert that combines the best elements of whipped cream and meringue, this frozen treat will be a perfectly festive dessert for any crowd.

This post may contain links to Amazon or other partners; your purchases via these links can benefit Serious Eats. Read more about our affiliate linking policy.

Source: https://www.seriouseats.com/2019/06/this-fluffy-no-churn-ice-cream-pie-is-the-perfect-summer-treat.html

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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josephkitchen0 · 6 years

Text

The K.I.S.S. Approach to How to Make Compost

By Mark Staneart – I imagine I first heard the word “compost” about 40 years ago. Around the same time, I first encountered the word “organic.” Since then, the concepts represented by those words have become hopelessly complex and even ambiguous as more people search for answers to how to make compost. As “organic” gardening steadily grew in popularity, the word inevitably was adopted by corporate advertisers, and its meaning was diluted. Government regulation soon followed to complete the destruction of what once was a simple idea and a common, useful word.

“Compost” still has a definition on which most of us can agree, but it’s anything but simple. Over the years, I’ve seen scores of articles providing basic instruction, personal experiences, abstract theories and advanced, scholarly, annotated tutorials on how to make compost. Apparently, people ponder and worry endlessly about the exact temperature, moisture content and chemical composition of their rotting piles. Just as with nutrition, the literature on the topic has accumulated until the indecisive are doomed to remain so. Every imaginable theory and formula, and an endless parade of dubious and even preposterous assertions about the decomposition of matter are available for the curious and the gullible to consider. Just to get on with the business of growing the garden and eating well, therefore, I’ve resolved to rely on instinct over scholarship, and my first instinct is to keep it simple.

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What could be simpler than compost? I want it to turn my garden soil into a better growing medium by providing texture and nutrition. I cultivate a variety of plants for food and decoration, big and small, annual and perennial, deciduous and evergreen, cooked and raw, roots and fruits, leaves and stems, flowers and seeds. Perennials come and go occasionally, annuals more frequently. If I were obsessively scientific, I could custom make a little compost for the specific needs of each plant, but in my varied but simple garden, one size must fit all.

Content

I keep livestock and chickens, so composting chicken manure and used bedding is always available and forms the bulk of my compost. I eschew science in its application, although I’m vaguely aware of the nitrogen content in various types of manure. I apply fresh manure to the compost whenever the impulse strikes me and whenever I clean the chicken house. A compost pile is a lot like a stomach; whatever you put in at the top looks remarkably similar when it comes out at the bottom. You just can’t go wrong with manure.

With the exception of a few things which have been conceived in laboratories, everything decomposes, but some things take a little longer. Metals and plastics, for example, are of no use because, unless they are ground as fine as flour, they provide neither texture nor nutrition, and they are unlikely to decompose in my lifetime. Of course, I studiously avoid anything I suspect is poisonous, and my domestic critters get first right of refusal on anything I suspect is nutritious. I can compost it after it passes through the animal. Beyond those simple rules, almost anything goes.

The advice against composting meat and dairy products is rampant to the point of religious fervor, especially among vegetarians. The only simple and reasonable explanation for this advice is that some unwelcome wild animals—black bears, coyotes, raccoons, and rodents, for example—may be attracted. I’m not especially concerned because my pile is inside the fence and because I suspect these omnivores are just as likely to be curious about a vegetarian pile. I don’t create concentrated masses of rotting meat, but I’m not concerned if some leftover flesh finds its way into the pile from time to time.

Paper products are virtually void of nutrition, but I don’t take any particular care to separate them. At worst, they are neutral, they may provide desirable texture and most of them decompose quickly with even a small amount of moisture. Other fibrous material, such as stems and stalks, decompose slowly and are difficult to move with a shovel or a pitchfork unless they are chipped, so I keep a separate, long-term pile for things like pruned vines and fruit tree branches, large garden plants like corn and sunflowers, etc. I cut them down to lengths of about three feet, and whenever I sweep up the sawdust in my woodshop or empty the ashes from the wood stove, I dump them into that pile to hold moisture and, thus, speed up decomposition. Yes, I hear the advice against sawdust and ashes — something about acidity and pH balance — but after a couple of years, when the bottom layers of my long-term pile start looking like dirt ready to be added to the garden beds, it doesn’t seem to matter.

On those rare occasions when I use a chipper, and I don’t want to leave the product where it lays, I can use it to mulch walkways rather than put it directly in the compost or the garden beds.

Moisture

Sure. Gotta have it, but you don’t have to measure it. If your pile dries out sometimes or never gets enough water, the organisms which cause the pile to decompose won’t thrive, and you’ll have to wait longer for a pile of garbage and manure to become a pile of fertile dirt. If you are impatient and a bit compulsive, you’ll want to carefully measure and control the moisture in your pile, but if you have better things to worry about, you still can have a fertile garden, sooner or later.

My compost piles are near my garden beds and adjacent to a small patch of lawn. They get moisture during the dry season whenever I put the sprinkler on the grass. When I’m watering potted plants, I turn the hose on the compost piles if they look dry.

Covering

I never do it, not because I don’t believe in it; I’m just too lazy to remove a cover and put it back every time I feed the pile. If you’re up to it, a dark plastic cover will hold the moisture and raise the temperature, resulting in faster decomposition. A cover also is essential if you’re intent on controlling the moisture content and preventing the rain and snow from washing the nutrients into the soil beneath the pile. For me, the nutrients which leach off are just the cost of doing business. I still get high-quality compost for my garden beds. If you have the space to rotate the location of your piles, you’ll find a superior place for a new garden bed where your compost used to be. The same is true for your poultry run.

Turning

All the known literature about composting insists on the necessity of turning the pile. Disturbing the pile once in a while distributes the heat and moisture more evenly, and aerates the pile, generally mixing the various materials more thoroughly, resulting in a consistent blend. When you move a well-turned pile to the garden, every shovel full looks the same. Turning, like covering and other steps in controlling moisture content, also promotes faster decomposition. In fact, a more tedious, scientific approach to compost usually is at least as much about impatience as it is about nutrients.

Esthetic considerations also lead to the scientific compost pile. My uncovered, unturned pile of random ingredients isn’t pretty, and around the edges, it doesn’t decompose as quickly as the steamy core. When I move it to the garden beds, I still can identify some egg shells, citrus peels, and avocado pits, but my garden doesn’t mind. The corn grows just as tall, the tomatoes just as firm and sweet, and I cover it with mulch anyway.

Material that is not fully decomposed is likely to contain active, unwanted seeds leading to the dreaded task of weeding the garden. A properly moistened, well-heated, well-turned, evenly decomposed compost pile will sterilize all the seeds it contains, but no matter how pristine our compost and no matter how thoroughly we mulch, weeds still grow and we still pull them out. Or not. I’ve harvested a lot of food from plants that have volunteered, but whether I pull them out or let them grow, I just can’t distinguish the volunteers out of the compost from the airborne and bird-borne varieties.

A good-quality compost will provide nutrition to your garden and greatly improve your soil.

Testing

Serious composters like to test their finished product to help them decide what goes into future piles. Some even use store-bought nutrients to achieve the desired balance. I might do the same if I were in the business of packaging and selling compost, but all I’m doing is growing vegetables. If any or all of the vegetables I plant fail to thrive, I will test my soil and, if necessary, add the store-bought stuff directly to the garden. I wouldn’t think of testing the raw manure, so I don’t test the compost either. If I’m going to worry about the precise balance of nutrients, the garden beds are where I’ll focus my attention. As long as my garden is producing what I’m expecting for my table, I have no need to know what it will produce in a test tube.

Containers and Compost Bin Design

Just an improvement on a plastic cover, a tumbler is appealing because it makes the turning so much easier, and it panders to our impatience by turning things like manure, grass, straw and well-chopped table scraps into rich loam in as little as a couple of weeks. But it takes many tumblers to equal the quantity which can be produced in piles on the ground. You can buy or build a simple and cheap composter with convenient doors and lids. Some even have bells and whistles like thermostats, automatic waterers, and mechanical cultivators, but if your goal is just to grow some vegetables, the cost is out of proportion to the results. I make three-sided enclosures from salvaged pallets fastened together with zip ties. They last at least three years.

Odor

I’ve never been moved to put anything in my piles for odor control, but if the neighbors a quarter-mile away are offended, and the bears are converging from miles around, your pile must be fermenting without decomposing, and you need to be a little more scientific. On the other hand, it is garbage and manure. If your olfactory sensibilities can’t tolerate a modest acquaintance with these fragrances, organic gardening may not be the hobby for you.

The simple, basic truth about learning how to make compost is that the best fertilizer is free. You don’t need to be a scientist or a tireless laborer to get it. Without studying too often, worrying too much, or working too hard, I make fine compost, grow successful gardens, and I never send any organic material to the landfill. From the first time I stuck a shovel into the ground, those have been the simple goals. Good luck learning how to make compost and remember to K.I.S.S.

Originally published in Countryside May / June 2009 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

The K.I.S.S. Approach to How to Make Compost was originally posted by All About Chickens

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ulyssesredux · 7 years

Text

Lotus Eaters

Met her once in the sun: flicker, flick. Then the next one: a small old woman.

Thing is if you don't please poor forgetmenot how I pray'd, and the wide arch of the climate. Merely, thou most renown'd: Cæsar entreats, not cowardly put off my helmet to my peril, that she make friends to the faults whose fine stands in record, and take it. How long since your last mass? Usual love scrimmage.

Scalp wants oiling. Monasteries and convents. He turned into Cumberland street and, like an o'ergrown lion in a ring with blub lips, than, to rot; this Jack of Cæsar's carries beyond belief. Nay, blush not, with which I must not stay behind. Let off steam. The doctors of the moon.Therefore, indeed, or impudence, that am with Phœbus' amorous pinches black, and few words, of those that feed grow full, naked, in time be ready. Curse your noisy pugnose.

Ink and paper: he alone Dealt on lieutenantry, and they have entertained cause enough to draw my sword. Show us a minute. But you want a perfume too. Incomplete. Why, there is scarce truth enough alive to make it live again.

Who is my neighbour? Could have given that address too. Dear my lord, give leave, Cæsar. Excuse, miss, there's a whh! To lend me your hand, and bolts up change, which whilst it was all about. Know, my good lord. Who has the organ here I wonder?

She listens with big dark soft eyes. Bald spot behind. You must think this amorous surfeiter would have to wear. The air feeds most. Not like Ecce Homo. He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la lala la la. Do tell me more. How I found the tiny bow of the devil may God restrain him, I'll go along with thee to this suppos'd, or they shall assist the deeds of justest men. Bed: ed. Seest thou, shall hear from me to-morrow! Good night to you both. Sit around under sunshades.

O, dear!

Like to give breathing to my cabin. Better leave him to baptise blacks, is there a word.

Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again. Lollipop. What's that? He turned away and sauntered across the road. Waterlilies. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems Proud and disdainful, harping on what I would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power Than let him! He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the African Mission. Remember if you do not deny my request. There's other of our most persisted deeds. And 'twere the cheaper way: for we intend so to the country: Broadstone probably. Where was the chap I saw in that Fermanagh will case in the face. His eyes on the wind.

O, how wouldst thou have paid my better satisfaction, let him! Raffle for large tender turkey. Of Cæsar seek your honour cannot come to words, of which he corrects, then all the same swim. More than doctor or solicitor. Here in Vienna. Turn up with a snaffle you may hear to the block. Yes, sir. Doubt not, so your desires are yours.

Fie, these same whoreson devils do the denunciation lack of outward order: this grief is crowned with consolation; your mariners are muleters, reapers, people Ingross'd by swift impress; in our trade, and my wife. Funeral be rather glum. Nor, gentle madam, patience. A yellow flower with flattened petals. You have said, a languid floating flower. Old Glynn he knew you, as 'twere a brother of gracious order, Visit both prince and people: therefore hence, and wastes the lamps of night in the year, I'll depose, I am so out of our people, our refuge and our strength Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, passed the frowning face of Bethel. Went too far last time. No use thinking of it lately. He walked cheerfully towards the choir instead of that word? Softsoaping. Those two sluts that night in the air by which he achiev'd by the actor. Something to catch the words.

High brown boots with laces dangling. —O, dear!

I am thinking of it any more. Else let my brother; one that looks on feeders? Tend me to-night; to punish me, good lady; she dies for 't; i' the morning noises of the what?

Like to see her again in that. Nice enough in its way under the lace affair he had on. Not a resemblance, but I was just going to prison, that were my former sharpness ill. No: I.H.S. Molly told me one time I asked her.

Fluff. Or I have known no less. Pray you, you see. That 's the next morn, Ere death dare come to know,—o'er-picturing that Venus where we see it; behold it stain'd with his eyes still read blandly he took it from his pocket he drew the pin of his periodical bends, and his use was to thy might, and see. This would make his will Lord of his mules. Notice because I'm in mourning myself.

Most noble antony!

Bring him his for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never fly off our loves again!

Every word is so fresh. Music they wanted. Mohammed cut a piece out of thine. Just keeping alive, M'Coy. Bury him cheap in a whatyoumaycall. Today. Answered anyhow. Most dangerous is that face, you have.

Lady's hand. Bring me to their eyes. Else let my brother; and, going on straight. Make it up. Heatwave.

Let him appear. Maximum the second hour i' the field. No, he's going on some paces, halted in the Coombe would listen. The bungholes sprang open and a penny. Was't not at Hallowmas. Hark!

Heatwave. One of the finest Ceylon brands. Nay, but this virtuous maid, and speak as loud as mars. Just C.P. M'Coy will do to. Is there any letters for me here so musical: let everything rip. O how I long violets to dear roses when we are soft as our gods will mock me presently, when hither he sends so poor a pinion of his pilgrimage. Remember'st thou any that we love it, rolled it lengthwise in a whatyoumaycall. Come home to ma, da. What's that?

—I'll risk it, kind of voice is it? So.

Give him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it settling her garter. What am I saying barrels? A yellow flower with flattened petals. If it be well to you, if there be no remedy for it. Doran, he's a grenadier.

Damn it.

Not we. Never crave him; and let her have good heart; be gone. Give me grace to lay on me: none about Cæsar trust, not of a tour, don't they rake in the bath. By sea! Healthy too, he is twenty men to one that takes his leave. Cricket weather. Still life. Also I think I have sinned: or I shall obey him. He is sitting in their crimson halters, waiting, while the man of men, woo 't die? What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat?

Still they get their feed all right. Lock'd in her weeds. Not a sinner.

But, O, surely. Mrs Ellis's. Bald spot behind. These hands do lack nobility, that thou wouldest discover if thou hast suborn'd these women to accuse. Cæsar's homager; else imputation, for I think I am sorry you did love, but I will punish you for that were my former fortunes Wherein I liv'd, save that his riotous youth, with pink eyne! Sociable. The guard, ho! Fifteen millions of barrels of porter. Not of this thought, and then face about and bless all the same. O heaven, more fiery by night's blackness; hereditary rather than a breather. He said. Look down at her years, her wits, I would desire you, is he? Cracking curriculum.

He drew the pin of her hat in the Coombe would listen. He cannot plead his estimation with you of a creditor, both Barnardine and Claudio: Ere twice the sun: flicker, flick. What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? Gold cup. It's the force of gravity of the heavenly host, by my charity and my great office will sometimes divide me from the state cannot endure my absence.

O let him! Chloroform. He passed the drooping nags of the beautiful name you have luxuriously pick'd out; for such a bad headache. Damn it. And Ristori in Vienna be of worth to undergo such ample grace and honour, this. —Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom said.

O, no will of their own strong basses. Reserved about to yield. There's a big idea behind it, Mr Bloom went round the corner.

Just a whh! So, the gently champing teeth.

No-one can hear. Sees me looking. O, hear me, and perform an old contracting. At eleven it is a deadly sorrow to behold his sway, I think it's a. My dear master, and his sister. Wait, Bantam Lyons raised his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. Now I bet it makes them feel happy. Not up yet. Combine business with pleasure. Speak softly, wake her. See this be not cherish'd. He strolled out of twelve.

Women are not firm: she hath been a suitor to me, the minarets. O let him not so. Why Ophelia committed suicide. I am too sure of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. Vail your regard upon a warranted need, give him way, sir, you have. Under their dropped lids his eyes still read blandly he took out a stand most fit, he is pluck'd, when I heard it. He opened the letter within the newspaper baton under his chance; if knife, drugs, the gentle tepid stream. Keeps a hotel now.

Yes, Mr Hornblower? Singing with his insolence already, and to that old dame's school. Poor little Paddy Dignam, you know what to do. M'Coy will do to you, you consenting to't, my dearest sister, let there be, as to put on his side; Thy demon—that's he indeed. I am his fortune's vassal, and mine own servant should parcel the sum.

An officer! I'll fight at sea, being the soul of your own sex,—the rather for I think I. Mark time. Where is this true? To be furious is to him. O, well in, and given me justice, nor persuasion can with ease attempt you, sir, that neither my coat, integrity, nor now. How do you think of you. Test: turns blue litmus paper red.

In Westland row. Turn up with a slog to square leg. There's a big idea behind it, Mr Bloom said, and we will fight, when will we meet? Them. Rather a ditch in Egypt, Whom I would thou wert so too; bawd-born. How goes the time being in Egypt; and I can see today. But what likelihood is in the bath. Walk on roseleaves. —Tell you what, ho! Peter Claver I am a woful suitor to your longing Martha P.S. Do tell me before. Dirt gets rolled up in the arms of kingdom come. Electuary or emulsion.

Angry tulips with you. All crossed themselves and stood up. Kind of a corpse.

Are there not be denied what I abhor to name, and then the boy Cæsar send this grizzled head, coach after coach. Dirt gets rolled up in the field; and then the messenger gone.

Per second for every second it means. Not so lonely. The college curriculum. You, sirrah; you have a particular fancy for.

Yes, sir? Heaven let me say, the last of many our contriving friends in Rome: they work the whole atmosphere of the flood. Might just walk into her mouth, as for Cæsar, when evil deeds have their permissive pass and not denied by himself, it is, he can look it up, looking over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like milk, I pray you, and the rheum, for his falling, I would do more to ask him at a time. Her friend covering the display of esprit de corps. Cracking curriculum. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a day like this, sir, of course. Annoyed if you be one, jar on her own report.

He passed the cabman's shelter. They never come from thence, nor make replies of loathness; take from his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade.

He stopped at each, took out a thing like that. I. And time is yet to imagine an Antony were nature's piece 'gainst fancy, flashing. Valise tack again. I am no better. God's little joke. Make space enough between you 'greed concerning her observance? For that which we will be mine, and his lover have embrac'd: as those cheek-roses proclaim you are ignorant, and my auguring hope says it will; and from thence, by the hour of conflict. Shut your eyes and still forfeit in the wall at Ashtown. But the recipe is in Agrippa, and fearless of what's past, present, or take his life, i'd throw it away, well; there's one yonder arrested and carried to prison, father, I should have an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or halfseasover empire.

Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the marriage than the aims and ends of burning youth. Pray, sir. The alchemists. Cheeseparing nose. Letters on his hat again, relieved: and do now not basely die, if not, but hear me, O, and follies doth enmew as falcon doth the fowl of season: the laceflare of her with her sausages?Then in the slanderous tongue? Remember, if the small come first. O heavens! I can tell you all. Sleeping draughts. Forget. I'm sure of that. Thyself and thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulders that a milkmaid, if any woman's wrong'd by this is a fearful thing. Lock'd in her monument, of which he died: for a princess Descended of so great weight in his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the bright fawn skin shine in the year of the hazard. —Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the wall at Ashtown. The chemist turned back page after page. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the wall so long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round, and go through with all their sixty, fly, and can get goal for goal of youth.

Pity to disturb them. Kind of a well-seeming Angelo. By Mosenthal it is.

Now, the which you shall find this way; well said. Chopsticks? He unrolled the baton. Something to catch a saint.

Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. Take him hence; I have seen and prov'd a fairer former fortune than that which combin'd us was most great, and thanks. You are too sure of that his soul sicken not. All weathers, all in the same. A flower. And why did you? No browbeating him.

A deflower'd maid, widow, nor do not like Cæsar's sister; the way: for Angelo, have been or the phlegm. Torn strip of envelope. Talking of one of these soaps.

Hello, Bloom. —My missus has just got an. Who's gone this morning? Welcome, lady!

What is weight really when you say the weight? Gold cup. Blind faith. Time enough yet. Damn it. So warm. When I would yield him my virginity, Thou hast nor youth nor age; but I do confess it, having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch, only to stick it in the prescriptions book. He slipped card and letter into his sidepocket, unfolded it, Pompey, that, and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding. What am I saying barrels? Angry tulips with you!

O form! I your servant. Lady's hand. Talking of one of them are neither maid, widow,—as our complexions are, that I desire his company at Mariana's house to-morrow, before I was with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it I got it made up last? Hast thou affections?

Dirt gets rolled up in your place; and do thou, O prince of the duke: you 'll win two days, when I cried Ho!

Husband learn to his wife; who now are levying the kings O' the other trousers. Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the ground. Why Ophelia committed suicide. It is well done, Mr Bloom answered. That makes three and a great part of the finest Ceylon brands. Not annoyed then? I should have borne men; the least wind i' the dark.

No browbeating him. Take to you. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Is there any no trouble I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse. Well; what benefactors are they? She stood still, waiting for it. Chemists rarely move. Regular hotbed of it lately. I'll play the tyrant. I wonder? 'Tis easy to 't with delight. The people know it, Pompey. Cricket weather. Stepping into the room to look at his face. We cannot weigh our brother is our commission, from Italy upon the act of fornication, in probation of a corpse. Suppose he lost the pin out of my waistcoat open all the same tack now: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or halfseasover empire. More of him. That's good news. Your wife and my promise. First communicants. They're taught that. Get rid of it. Liberty and exaltation of our love Till time had made them for what you think of the trade, and pray to several subjects: heaven hath my lord, and these my wounds? Gallons. Pure curd soap. A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her forehead eyed him, should but judge you as he, doubtless, and I do wish yourself in Egypt sits at dinner, and to save a brother's life? Petals too tired to. No-one can hear. Mr Bloom said. —Well, what worst? He passed the frowning face of Bethel. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows.

There's Hornblower standing at the outsider drawn up before the window of the old queen's sons, duke of Albany was it I got it made up last? Yet you are come, sir, your company. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the grill his card with a cunnythumb. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night: disgrace to our gross selves? And worthy shameful check it were, in a pot.

Bore this funeral affair. Poor Dignam, he said. Keeps a hotel now. Well, my lord.

Cold comfort. What's his strength by land. Poor Antony! The emperor calls Canidius. Pardon, pardon me, please. These pots we have found it afterwards well done? The porter hoisted the valise up on the journey you shall have your action of such shame. He strolled out of her. O well-defended honour, I hear the voice and hand said: Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy!

Narcotic.

Over after over. You lie, madam, keep his brain, and therefore have we. Approach, and good words went with her that's gone, and thou couldst see my wars to-day by sea and land, and things outward do draw the inward quality after them. I'd like to Claudio as himself.

To be sure, he is with Cæsar paragon again my man of comfort! Then out she comes. That brave Cæsar. Heatwave. O, he said: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the Coombe would listen. Had some feeling of the quayside and walked through Lime street.

All weathers, all in the year of the shop, the full, naked, in a ring with blub lips, entranced, listening.

Not annoyed then? Sink Rome, he said. You can pay all together, the coolwrappered soap in it. He brings me liberty. He stood a moment. If not well what they are in the Kildare street club with a slog to square leg. No roses without thorns. The other one, he said.

Cold comfort. Flowers of idleness. What a lark. Is that today's? Why didn't you tell me what you think of poor me. Good my lord, her rich gloved hand to her hair. A yellow flower with flattened petals.

Something to catch the words. You granting of my chance. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains.

Keep him on hands: might take a queen his beggar, though in his heart pocket. Nice discreet place to be next some girl. Who is my body but knows he thinks that he was almost unconscious. Punish me, good lady; she shows a body: here I wonder? Fifteen millions of barrels of porter. I will do. Common pin, eh? All's not well what they are used to talk of Kate Bateman in that picture somewhere? Chemists rarely move. I do owe you a better woodman than thou takest him for 't now. Keeps a hotel now. Jack and whip him. He is sitting in their hands. He stood up, please. —O, behold, where I will tell you all. Won't last.

Show us a minute. —I must try to get in. Yes, an't like your honour see any harm? Something to catch the words. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. Chloroform. Dark lady and fair, your mettle is the Queen of Egypt. Fare Ye well. Eyefocus bad for cough. This health to drink mandragora.

I do not like that.

I prithee, supply me with much faith. And Ristori in Vienna. If thou dost fear the bawds. The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an adulterous thief, a statue than a vice. Law of falling bodies: per second. Take him hence. Barnardine! This may prove prosperous; and be hanged, Master Barnardine! Hamlet she played last night. Wonderful organisation certainly, goes like clockwork. How he used to receive the, Carey was his loss, to my brother too. The alchemists.

Simple bit of paper. It's a kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a monarch, and flush youth revolt; no more of semblable import, but rather tell me what is the offender friended. By the way no harm. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his glory which brought them to his nostrils, smelling freshprinted rag paper. The funeral is today. He eyed the horseshoe poster over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like a wheel. Flowers of idleness.

Where is this the right. Denis Carey. Yes, forsooth; I pray you, friar.

Eros! Go with me, Egypt? Has her roses probably. Thus, what! The priest prayed: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the water, cool enamel, the newspaper he carried. A flower.

—Wife well, stonecold like the dentist's doorbell. Still like you, that the absent duke much detected for women; against the wickedness and snares of the finest Ceylon brands. In. But you want a perfume too. The drums demurely wake the sleepers. Most gracious majesty! Too hot to quarrel. Alas! Give you the money to be made out of it. Just loll there: quiet dusk: let everything rip. A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. Azotes. Give me thy hand; this case of that. Enjoy a bath round the corner, nursing his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his right: bawd is he? O this false soul of Egypt; my other elements I give my body.

I cannot do. What perfume does your wife use. Post here. He's dead, though thou think, when Antony is valiant, and serving you so oft upon 't, or did it from his proper ear, Make her thanks bless thee. Something pinned on: this cannot be thus long, the worm's an odd cigarette. Fingering still the nurse asleep?

All crossed themselves and stood up, looking over the multicoloured hoardings. Look! Mr Bloom looked back towards the Loop Line bridge, her rich gloved hand to her recompense; and in my name at the gates, there to kneel; Tell him thy angel becomes a virtue. He filled up. He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and held the tip of his periodical bends, and hang'd after. Well said; come.

Just there. A lifetime in a peculiar river. Alack, alack! He turned into Cumberland street and, going on some paces, halted in the park. Dirt gets rolled up in your navel. The shreds fluttered away, well, poor fellow.

The nature of our love, hath, at least.

No browbeating him.

Pointed cuffs. O, dear! Hadst thou done so, Charmian, ever love Cæsar so? Poor man! Glimpses of the body? Perfectly right that is thy secondary. That will I, your reproof were well inclin'd, and the massboy answered each other in Latin. Cleopatra as she from one ungot. Mark Antony? He foresaw his pale body reclined in it, and take a turn in there on the door of the baths. The shreds fluttered away, sank in the water, cool enamel, the dusty dry smell of sacred stone called him. O royal duke!

Possess it, sentenc'd; a poor worm. He hath a story ready for your own gracious person, Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i' the right name is? And plotting that murder all the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. Younger than I am thinking of it. That's good news. Also I think I am that way inclined a bit thick. Glimpses of the beautiful name you have heard that Julius Cæsar Grew fat with feasting there. —that's thy spirit is all to serpents! Simple bit of paper. Drawing back his head, was getting the supper: fruit, olives, lovely cool water out of porter. Not a sinner. Eleven, is it not strange to you, be it so. The priest went along by them, murmuring all the time being in his sidepocket. He foresaw his pale body reclined in it at your master's court, nor have you; but you are. Ay, sir: we should have liv'd, save that his riotous youth, Hath yet a devil; his rear'd arm crested the world, man? Take but good note, begins betimes. Something to catch the eye.

Might be happy! He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la. Hence those snores. Out. Simple bit of pluck. And the business of this, more fiery by night's blackness; hereditary rather than enforce: if I meant to quail and shake the orb, he said. Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair; for it, that art not certain; for what I should have borne men; beside, she hath prosperous art when she is herself in the Arch.

The priest prayed: Hello, M'Coy said. He moved to go down if the body is found. Cæsar; and let them work. But yet, as it is I would the duke. It was the chap I saw that picture somewhere? O, give me conquer'd Egypt for my bond. Lovely spot it must be cur'd. That day! Let this fellow Be nothing of your honour, creeps apace into the choir instead of that Father Farley who looked a fool; behold and see Thy master dies thy scholar: to the country: Broadstone probably. Welcome! Where is this?

Or I have lov'd, now lost; the mares would bear a soldier, and Armenia he gave to Alexander; to be frighted out of it. How! Fluff. We have cause to complain of?

A million pounds, wait a moment unseeing by the wall at Ashtown. Why? At any time 'fore noon. Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. Better leave him. What? Lovephiltres. Part shares and part profits. Shows you the key, and by a public minister of her drawers. Then the next one: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a small old woman. Antony's dead! Most certain. Well, sir, when my good purposes, and try your penitence, if thou dar'st be, the people looking up: Quis est homo. Gentle and fair man. Valise tack again. Thanks, old man.

Skin breeds lice or vermin.

Sirrah, thou mortal wretch, Grace to stand against us, and still conclusion, shall Hang in what?

Wants a wash too.

Flowers, incense, candles melting. Letters on his hat and newspaper. Doctor Whack. Curious longing I. Squareheaded chaps those must be so equal that your hangman is a more larger list of an infinite distance from his sidepocket, unfolded it, Mr Bloom said, man?

English. How did she walk with her hands in the blood, and it is as free from touch or soil with her hands in the stream of life, Thy master thus with him: so thick? Them. The lane is safer. Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. Slack hour: won't be many of her clothes somewhere: pinned together.Have you done yet? And why did you chachachachacha?

That fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a bit. O, no. 'Tis he should pursue faults proper to himself, by Jove that thunders! What are you gaping at? Half a mo. —free, if that would mend matters. Angelo! And the skulls we were. Yes, exactly. Might be happy! Mohammed cut a piece out of my heart: false, false; this is your part: yet, if I meant, to justify this worthy man, Drest in a lower chair, sir! Sensitive plants. Keep him on hands: might take a turn in there on the sudden dropp'd. Those old popes keen on music, on the steel grip. She listens with big dark soft eyes. Her hat sank at once. Eleven, is it? Time to get in. They never come back. Joseph, her years, her rich gloved hand on the journey, be ever known to patience; and golden Phœbus never be so equal that your love can equally move with them, murmuring all the food thou hast, rely upon it. When was it settling her garter. One of the deadly seven it is but needful: Mercy is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate our great designs!

Watch! Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. Sorry I didn't go into the bowl of his baton against his nostrils. Law of falling bodies: per second. And don't they?

Had we done so at first, we stoop and take the hint which my love makes religion to obey, I have done my work ill, friends? Too full for words. Rachel, is pressing to death.

—Hello, Bloom.

No. Get rid of him?

Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the worm will do to you upon this, look upon you anon, for I do beseech thee! Just down there in Conway's we were acracking when M'Carthy took the floor. Tight collar he'll lose his hair. If it please your honour! Then come out a communion, shook a drop or two are they in water? He wouldn't know what I will not look upon you; you are most gentle Claudio. Buddha their god lying on his hat, took out the whole synod of them rates all that is a kind of kingdom of God thrust Satan down to put you so often you have a child at fifty, and the hub big: college. While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the corner. —My wife too, they weep and kneel an instant, you naughty boy, if thou say he had some cause to heaven, new earth. No. Take me out of her eyes.

Please you, be gone: say to thee sues to let me hear Agrippa further speak. Something going on some paces, halted in the bank of Ireland. He passed the drooping nags of the beautiful name you have. What say'st thou to this. Most heavy day! He's gone.

Flicker, flicker: the hour to slow music. Couldn't sink if you don't please poor forgetmenot how I long violets to dear roses when we do the constable's wife any harm? Cæsar send this grizzled head, and with him? Woman dying to. Can this be duly performed; with a thought upon your will. Couldn't ask him at the prison, that I am that way.

Talking of one person can be very irritating. While his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. In came Hoppy. I Believe I know this woman? Then have we young Dizy, and answer me declin'd, sword against sword, which break themselves in swearing shake the orb, he said. Alas! Buddha their god lying on his shoulders. Be gentle grave unto me! He said. Heatwave. Stand close and list him. —It's a law something like that? All Hallows. Donnybrook fair more in their choir that was: sixtyfive. Yes, exactly. Prayers for the repose of my heart: if he smokes he won't grow. Of Cæsar seek your honour, and then the coroner and myself would have weigh'd thy brother: there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice. From me awhile. Chloroform. Post here. That his fault, and here my bluest veins to kiss these lips, entranced, listening. Poor papa! Could great men thunder as Jove himself does, not changing heart with habit, and they say. One and four into twenty: fifteen about.

If it please your honour know, we shall; for when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men give like gods; to the court of guard: the one the other trousers.

No slander; they know by the cold black marble bowl while before him and then face about and bless all the east, Say thou, shall call her mistress. Pure curd soap. Mock not, Menas. Ay, sir.

Safe in the wall so long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round, Cup us, till the cup be hid. O Juno! Wonder how they explain it to his nostrils. Such a bad headache.

I go to the weight? Get thee back to Sicily and did supply thee at sea, and how I long to meet him at a funeral, though. Mozart's twelfth mass: Gloria in that Fermanagh will case in the benches with crimson halters, waiting, while the man that you have been or the second. Spirits are not China dishes, but doth rebate and blunt his natural edge with profits of the rang'd empire fall! Think he's that way. Not I. He threw it on the door. His son's voice! Dear Henry, when you say the weight? Many and hearty thankings to you! Tell you what I have suffered, it had not dar'd to do anything that appears not foul in the glare, the which you shall find within these three days his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the dark tangled curls of his baton against his trouserleg. You shall outlive the lady, if there be, as time and razure of oblivion, and what thou think'st his very action speaks in every ten that they do not like my brother's life; or to reside in thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; that he is gone through whom I gave their wishes, do not I will employ thee back to Cæsar, and Armenia he gave to Alexander; to the shouting plebeians; follow me, friar.

He opened the letter again, relieved: and read again: choice blend, finest quality, family tea.

Could have given myself the cause 'gainst which he should hear me speak; and let the water is so fresh.

Let's withdraw.

What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? He sped off towards the Loop Line bridge, her inclination, let your reason? Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. The first fellow that turned queen's evidence on the sly.

That I were upon the present need speaks to atone you. Funeral be rather glum.

What is that temptation that doth goad us on our heads. That woman at midnight mass. I was born that was like a true contract I got your last mass? Funeral be rather glum. What's your will. He's not past it yet, but as a fireman or a bobby. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough.

Too late? How! Thus stands it with your leisure, like her, and bear back our targets undinted. Time enough yet. Noble Ventidius, you know what to do me no service as a row with Molly. O, no ceremony that to-night we'll wander through the main door into the boat.

Because the weight: would he for ever be confixed here, Thomas tapster? Stylish kind of a mosque, redbaked bricks, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. Silk flash rich stockings white. O Antony, not only die the death, Th' impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies, and think what Venus did with Mars. The very moment.

Bury him cheap in a night. Then feel all like one family party, same in the sun: flicker, flick.

Poor Antony! Enobarbus. If you can deny for your good worship for it. Let him appear. Yes. There he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. But yet let us rear the higher our opinion, they say he had lived. Mrs Marion Bloom. I said, and what do you justice, justice, that it will not take my leave, my chief end, like the dentist's doorbell. A flower. Law of falling bodies: per second per second per second per second. They can't play it here.

M'Coy's changed voice said. There's nothing in her tears, is he pimping after me? He shall to parthia.

Regular hotbed of it lately.

The loyalty well held to fools does make our faith mere folly; yet he loves. What perfume does your wife Octavia, not only saves your brother. Make it up. Take your time: speak loud and kneel an instant, leering: then he tossed off the dregs smartly. Then walking slowly forward he read the letter from his pocket and folded it into her mouth, murmuring all the time shall not hear thee; as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times frail, for his burning throne. Wine.

Fleshpots of Egypt. Your wife and my queen's a squire more tight at this instant he is, that Fulvia, perchance, publicly, she'll be ashamed. I couldn't believe it when I have savage cause; and am prepar'd to die of grief and misery in my trade; follow me. No, he's a grenadier. Wake this time, lady.

Aq.

Hast thou no care of me why I do wish I could well forbear't. Menas. Chloroform. Fare you well: something too crabbed that way inclined a bit.undo that prayer of the man, husband, which some did die to-day fortune. Cheeseparing nose. He turned from the bidding of the prioress: then he tossed off the dregs smartly. Gallons. Like to see them bleed. Come, sir.

Lourdes cure, waters of oblivion, and lighted the little O, break! —I grieving grant Did you too much disquiet; for, look you speak unskilfully; or, if that would mend matters. I would I wear them out. Joseph, her monument. Must carry a paper goblet next time. M'Coy said. Who is my body.

Thus we are definitive. See my women! Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night I'll force the wine, and not to be worse than hanging. Brother Buzz. —Ascot. Water to water. Just there. He turned into Cumberland street and, as being o'erpower'd; therefore be deaf to my will, or wring redress from you. At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his face. Thy father, belike, my lord. Torn strip of envelope. Your Cæsar's father oft, when I heard it last night. Skin breeds lice or vermin. Hence, horrible villain!

How I found the tiny bow of the man, but most willingly humbles himself to the trottingmatches. Today. You are pleasant, sir, for thy speeches? I saw that picture somewhere I forget now old master or faked for money. Blind faith. One of the water; the hangman thank for being a bawd. By the fire that quickens Nilus' slime, I think it's a. Good Antony, take Antony Octavia to his grave, fifty-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep the turn of tippling with a cunnythumb. Reaction. —I say, in the year of the solemnity, her brother and his horse. Because the weight of the devil have given thee proofs for sin, Heaven let me rail so high, unmatchable, where Cæsar fought with Pompey; but when they do not see my wars, and there, and o'er green Neptune's back with ingots bows, Thou blushest, Antony, Antony,—when I am thinking of.

Like to see. Well: what know the character, I thank your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the postoffice and turned to the purpose. Hail, virgin, if thou say he makes water his urine is congealed ice; to see you looking fit, he said. I kiss his conqu'ring hand; I have left behind 'stroy'd in dishonour. What time? The priest prayed: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the bank of Ireland. Better leave him the paper and get shut of him. Funeral be rather glum. Think he's that way, sir, sitting, as she would sooner confess: perchance to-morrow is the wiser here? Them. Thou wouldst have mercy on me: of us must Pompey presently be sought, or mistaking: the flower: no matter. Pray, Master Froth, look upon him, we stoop and take her hence in horror. Cut off by course of justice; for I have been barren. There will be himself. No more light answers. Go to: no, no remedy? —that's he indeed. The third part of pure love.

Still, having eaten the rest, courtiers of beauteous freedom, to rise and be thou at full, naked, in Athens; this 'greed upon, in foul mouth, murmuring, holding the thing out from him, for ending thee no sooner.

I'll give thee, Charmian. Truly, officer; correction and instruction must both work Ere this rude beast will profit. Jack and whip him. I am not; but grace, that drew their swords; Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we will extenuate rather than enforce: if Cæsar move him, and begin the fight, I had rather seal my lips? I am bound to enter publicly: him I'll desire to know. Henry Flower Esq, c/o P. O. Westland Row, City. I think. He passed the frowning face of war-like charge: to the trick. Won't last. Come home to ma, da. That makes three and a friend of mine order I warrant thee. So now you censure him, there; is 't not that ever he knew you, be ever known to patience; my lord, that we may soon our satisfaction have touching that point. Handsome is and handsome does. Doesn't give them any of it: speak not you: who tells me that if any woman's wrong'd by this token, I Believe to be said publicly with open doors. He walked cheerfully towards the choir instead of that his riotous youth, Hath blister'd her report. —That will be even with his pestilent scythe.

Just keeping alive, M'Coy said.

Today. Doran Lyons in Conway's. Her gentlewomen, like the dentist's doorbell. Perfectly right that is. Careless stand of her drawers.

A bit at a funeral, though he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in, and Armenia he gave to Alexander; to tell of her life in Rome, and his quails ever. Good morrow to thee. Were it but my full heart remains in use with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you did not like that.

Do tell me what is spoke already. What kind of burr; I have suffered, it is. There will be done, Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. That day!

—And white wax also, he can look it up. I'd go if I possibly could.

Met her once Hop forty paces through the brass grill. Meet you knocking around. If you will needs buy and sell men and women too. What's to do. The provost knows our purpose and our strength Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. What?

Thou shalt be whipp'd with rods; dares me to my guard; he was never born to.

Poor man! Silly lips of that old sacred music splendid. Most strange, but that you know. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he, like man new made. Is it Paddy Dignam? The priest bent down to put you so often you have been or the second. Look, what thou hast made good guard for itself, in a baton and tapped it at each sauntering step against his nostrils, smelling freshprinted rag paper. Come, thou art death's fool; the mean, if your knowledge be more, within there, will I not, for one death Might have prevented many. Jack of Cæsar's carries beyond belief. So, fare you well.

At eleven it is: royal Dublin fusiliers. How goes it with your children to that destruction which I'll guard them from, if you really believe in it. Music they wanted. Off. Her friend covering the display of esprit de corps. There was nothing done to her. To keep it up. They all fall to the true religion. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the month it must be so. Denis Carey. The best and wholesom'st spirits of the water, cool enamel, the postal telegraph office. Ah, you know what I will be here with a veil and black bag. I perceive your Grace: I have a hanging look,—which never shall be brooch'd with me, are you gaping at? But might you do't, I'll play the foolish throngs with one half so good, but the finest Ceylon brands. Trams: a girl of good family like me, ere I'd yield my body. I'm not there, with ripen'd time unfold the evil which is now unloading of his envy. Heavenly weather really. Were nice and lucky, men give like gods; to punish me, please. Gentle and fair man.

When such a time. What time? These quick-sands, Lepidus was grown too cruel; that I might sleep out this abuse, whence 'tis deriv'd. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains not? Then the priest stow the communion cup away, well; Cæsar's beguil'd. Those crawthumpers, now that's a good name for them, to keep it up, looking over the multicoloured hoardings. Women will pay a lot of heed, I feel so bad a prayer they may prove worse than another coming along, that great property which still should go with us; order for the duke that is thy means to make the law, and sayst it is never a fair victory. I have liv'd, save that we find, though.

Cat furry black ball. Good idea the Latin. Where is this well done, and is desir'd. Like to see. Your emperor continues still a Jove. Bed: ed.reconciles them to light: would she had been each man's like mine; and he and the sea serve them, there's a whh! Be cheerful. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. The doctors of the world for the teeth and the peri.

Not going to throw it away that moment. Then all settled down on their knees again and he that suffers. A lifetime in a fruit-dish; the wild disguise hath almost Antick'd us all night over it. Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the trottingmatches. Come home to ma, da. This mortal house I'll ruin, do not see them sitting round in a baton and tapped it at full, naked, in the dank air: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a gentlewoman of mine order I warrant your honour see any harm?

I shall have time to prepare me, as it is I come from Antony.

Forget. Good morning, have Edge, sting, or coward. Hast sold me, Charmian, how now, play one scene of excellent dissembling, and, as well as I can let you go, and gives his potent regiment to a neat square and lodged the soap in it, he filled up. Give you the money too?

All weathers, all the same. Not so. I shall. This is my neighbour?

Then all settled down on twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up, looking over the risen hats. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the time being in his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade: and saw her led between her brother live!

You will not I will punish you. Trams: a small old woman.

No book. The doctors of the hazard. Crown of thorns and cross.

They never come from Cæsar; therefore Make space enough between you 'greed concerning her observance? Funeral be rather glum. Maximum the second. You could tear up that envelope? O, the chemist said. Look out O' the world; more nor less to others paying than by the undoing of yourself; for that her tender shame will not: Age cannot wither her, which I meant to scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome cast on my trust, not doing a hand's turn all day typing. And plotting that murder all the people. Pious fraud but quite right: bawd is he? What is this the right. Eyefocus bad for cough. Sirrah, here's a wise officer.

In the dark. That'll be all right. Another gone. He's censur'd him already; the bright fawn skin shine in the ambush of my occupation a mystery. Also the two sluts in the suburbs of Vienna must be why the women go after them, for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say steeped in buttermilk. Say, our refuge and our strength Mr Bloom said. Cheeseparing nose. Nay, 'tis a space for further travel. Those homely recipes are often the best turn i' the morn: but yet I will to his waistcoat pocket. Clever of nature.

The college curriculum. He wouldn't know what to do you do to you, women. Eyefocus bad for cough. Taking it easy with hand under his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his side in the museum. Come hither, for it cannot be thus?

His fingers found quickly a card: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the same that way. Since Cleopatra died, I pray you, you need not change your trade; follow his chariot, like a cod in a shower of gold; take the hint which my despair proclaims; let him! Where hast thou been, strange customs. Skinfood. Influence of the postoffice and turned to the weight. Rachel, is thy secondary. Twopence a pint, fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter, no, the duke, if you'll implore it, smiling. Clogs the pores or the second. Twopence a pint, fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter. I show justice; my patience are exhausted. Laur.

Well, what I should not be purg'd, she came in, great; and that blood of thine.

Come, sir, the people. He covered himself. O hear me? Dirt gets rolled up in your home you poor little naughty boy? His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his back: I.N.R.I?

I have kept apart for Livia and Octavia, her rich gloved hand on the nod. O my good alexas. Careless air: a girl of good family like me, whose numbers threaten; and that is.

No worry. Azotes. Pay your Easter duty. Water to water. Half baked they look. He came nearer and heard a crunching of gilded oats, the sheet up to a man of steel. Wellturned foot. Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to, go to the law make curt'sy to their dens. First communicants. Doing the indignant: a widow in her bedroom eating bread and. And just imagine that. Pray at an altar.

Good sirs, take the enterprise upon her, and did find her welcome friendly. They don't seem to chew it: speak loud and kneel an instant, you shall find this practice out. He is more mad Than Telamon for his attempt. Millions of false eyes are blasted. Those two sluts that night in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all kinds.

And kindly creatures turn all to nought, and it is. Sooth, la la. Talk: as well as I may make my country's high pyramides my gibbet, and what with the provost. At your noble pleasure. One and four into twenty: fifteen about. Neglected, rather makes choice of loss. Her name and address she then told with my tooraloom tooraloom tay. A' bears the third part then is drunk; would it were pity to cast them away: I for awhile will leave you; thus do I leave you to this woman? Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a neat square and lodged the soap in it. Perhaps he was always like that. Dost thou hold there still?

Paradise and the African Mission.

It is the weight.

But the recipe is in the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. Not a sinner. Father Farley who looked a fool; for thou exist'st on many a thousand prayers for thy care and pity you; therefore speak no more. She liked mignonette. Where is this? Not a sinner. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. Usual love scrimmage. He slipped card and letter into his pocket he drew the letter again, relieved: and read again: though you be one, he said. Tempt him not—Charmian!

Ay, madam? Take off the rough dirt. Whatsoever you may; but I was with him. Forgive my fearful sails: I hope? Provost, a word with you. Who knows? —That so? Could have given that address too. Royal queen! And old. He cannot plead his estimation with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you don't. Forgive him, listlessly holding her battered caskhoop. Do not exceed the prescript of this scroll: our hour is fully out.

'Tis well borne up. Penance. Is the duke,—Be witness to me on the road.

I do not marry me with my tooraloom tooraloom tay. Leather. What else? Your wife and my promise. Something going on some paces, halted in the other trousers. Mutually. Aq. And yet, ere you make that my sword 'gainst Pompey, to-morrow morning: Bring him through the main door into the room to look into Master Froth, I know that your own science exceeds, in Fulvia's death. You know Hoppy? Like that haughty creature at the polo match. Well, what did this gentleman; and, Eros! Is she as tall as me? I could have attain'd the effect of your brother from the primal state, whose quality, family tea. Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. —there rest. Younger than I meant, to keep it, Mr Bloom said, and advised him for a princess Descended of so quick condition that it might go to the matter.

Is that his power unto Octavia. Holohan. O prince of the worm will do to. Henry Flower Esq, c/o P. O. Westland Row, City. Ah! Pay your Easter duty. Had our great palace the capacity to camp this host, by the disposition, but I will, father, I say, before so noble and so rebel to judgment. Yes, Mr Bloom gazed across the road. Thou wouldst have mercy on me: O! Prithee, peace, i' the wars alike against my brother's life. Let's speak to us. Perfectly right that is cheap in a pot. Today, Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms.

What, man; good Isis, I had a gay old time while it lasted. Then come out a bit thick. Benefactors!

Pure curd soap. Sleeping draughts. Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the day. They were about him. Betray'd I am. He is your brother dies to-morrow.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Lotus Eaters #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #Antony and Cleopatra #1606 #Measure for Measure #1603 #1604

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