Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,– Richard iii

Posts tagged “Author

His Dark Materials

Into this wild abyss,
The womb of nature and perhaps her grave,
Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,
But all these in their pregnant causes mixed
Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight,
Unless the almighty maker them ordain
His dark materials maker them ordain
Into this wild abyss the wary fiend
Stood on the brink of hell and looked a while,
Pondering his voyage…

— John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book II

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MYLES CRAWFORD

(His cock’s wattles wagging.) Hello, seventyseven eightfour. Hello. Freeman’s Urinal and Weekly Arsewiper here. Paralyse Europe. You which? Bluebags? Who writes? Is it Bloom?

(Mr. Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands in the witnessbox, in accurate morning dress, outbreast pocket with peak of hankerchief showing, creased lavender trousers and patent boots. He carries a large portfolio labeled Matcham’s Masterstrokes.)

James Joyce: Ulysses