. . . "it would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how much I love him; and that, not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, . . . "
Oh, swoon. Oh throb. Oh, how many semicolons can one use in a single novel?
I read this book every summer btw fifth and eighth grade. Sigh.
Those semi-colons serve a useful narrative purpose. Each one denotes a small throb, a tempting swoon, a racking sigh, an inward groan, a gasp aching to turn into a full-fledged pang; in short, together they create a whole palette of emotions.
Reminded of the phrase "painting wet".
Those cannot have been summers ill-spent.
("Uplie", I am commanded now by the ever-sensitive WV bot. Could that be the advice once given Emily, in her disheveled slugabed moments?)
Ah yes. I loved all the Brontes and used to read their biographies. In one they would compose stories by walking around and around the dinner table. In another Emily had out of the body experiences in which she flew over the moors like an owl in the night.
Corn or Clam Chowder
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I have half and half and need to use it.
https://www.culinaryhill.com/corn-chowder-recipe/
https://www.culinaryhill.com/new-england-clam-chowder-recipe/
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And here's my old nemesis Monday again.
But, to be fair, she arrives on the heels of a quiet weekend. Nor do I have
to drive north to teach this week. So...
The Dropped Tack
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… Sounds are frequently thought of as anticipatory clues … This is from The
Critical Ihde, edited by Robert Rosenberg (2023): … I stand alone on a
hilltop ...
Human Rights Day Today
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The Nobel Peace Prize this year went to Narges Mohammadi, 51, of Iran. She
was arrested 13 times, convicted for five and sentenced to a total of 31
years ...
Stay away from the pool
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My mother & I were visiting a friend of hers who was living in an apartment
complex that I regarded at the time as positively palatial, what for the
commun...
In Memory of Ed Ochester, Poet & Editor, RIP
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We have asked Ed Ochester (above) to edit our Sunday poetry pages for the
next few months. Here is one of Ed's poems: March of the Penguins The
editor of N...
“In spite of all the learned have said ...”
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Philip Freneau
Philip Freneau (1752-1852) was a journalist and poet in the early years our
country was forming. And, oh, by the way, I once wrote an under...
Jason Tandon
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Born in Hartford, CT in 1975, Jason Tandon is the author of four books of
poetry, including *The Actual World*, *Quality of Life*, and *Give Over the
Hec...
Balance is important in design
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Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aenean commodo
ligula eget dolor. Aenean massa. Cum sociis Theme natoque penatibus et
magnis dis ...
Feeding therapy FINALLY!!
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There is so much to catch up on and yet so little. I have noticed that the
last year has felt like an inward journey and so telling a story hasn’t
fe...
One year gone ...
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*Meeting Mark Mothersbaugh*
Today marks one year as editor of *Fresh Water *for me. Man-o-man, what a
ride it has been. Despite the intensity of the job, o...
I'm still here
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Just posting here to let anyone know (whoever is still dropping by from
time to time) that I still haven't disappeared, I've just been spending
time away f...
2015 Mini Gift Guide
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A mini last-minute gift guide...it's been quite some time since I've
posted. But I love the holidays so much and sharing gifts that I think
would be great ...
In a Landscape - The Playlist
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John Cage, “In a Landscape”
Bob Dylan, “My Back Pages”
Neil Young, “Ambulance Blues”
The Twilight Zone Theme
Babylon 5 Theme
Simon & Garfunkel, “Richard Co...
3 comments:
Those semi-colons serve a useful narrative purpose. Each one denotes a small throb, a tempting swoon, a racking sigh, an inward groan, a gasp aching to turn into a full-fledged pang; in short, together they create a whole palette of emotions.
Reminded of the phrase "painting wet".
Those cannot have been summers ill-spent.
("Uplie", I am commanded now by the ever-sensitive WV bot. Could that be the advice once given Emily, in her disheveled slugabed moments?)
Oh well, a few more drips from the same tap:
Emily Jane Brontë: "The night is darkening round me"
Emily Jane Brontë: Remembrance
Ah yes. I loved all the Brontes and used to read their biographies. In one they would compose stories by walking around and around the dinner table. In another Emily had out of the body experiences in which she flew over the moors like an owl in the night.
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