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  • Freed from its enemy, stopped short

    Minimalism, PhotosComments (0)

    On April 1, 2013 • By

    The field mouse, now that it was freed from its enemy, stopped short; and coming slowly up to the Woodman it said, in a squeaky little voice: Oh, thank you! Thank you ever so much for saving my life. Don’t speak of it, I beg of you, replied the Woodman. I have no heart, you know, so I am careful to help all those who may need a friend, even if it happens to be only a mouse. Only a mouse! cried the little animal, indignantly.  Why, I am a Queen, the Queen of all the Field Mice! Continue Reading

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  • Grey See Stones

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    On February 17, 2013 • By

    What wonder, then, that these Nantucketers, born on a beach, should take to the sea for a livelihood! They first caught crabs and quohogs in the sand; grown bolder, they waded out with nets for mackerel; more experienced, they pushed off in boats and captured cod; and at last. Continue Reading

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  • Difference of country

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    On November 12, 2012 • By

    Were this world an endless plain, and by sailing eastward we could for ever reach new distances, and discover sights more sweet and strange than any Cyclades or Islands of King Solomon, then there were promise in the voyage. Continue Reading

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  • In Weybridge headquarters

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    On November 6, 2012 • By

    Byfleet was in a tumult; people packing, and a score of hussars, some of them dismounted, some on horseback, were hunting them about. Three or four black government waggons, with crosses in white circles, and an old omnibus, among other vehicles, were being loaded in the village street. There were scores of people. Continue Reading

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  • The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his axe

    Minimalism, PhotosComments (0)

    On November 3, 2012 • By

    “What can I do for you?” she inquired softly, for she was moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke. Get an oil-can and oil my joints,” he answered.  They are rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a shelf in my cottage. Continue Reading

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  • In cavalier attendance upon the school of females, you invariably see a male

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    On November 3, 2012 • By

    The boat was now all but jammed between two vast black bulks, leaving a narrow Dardanelles between their long lengths. But by desperate endeavor we at last shot into a temporary opening; then giving way rapidly, and at the same time earnestly watching for another outlet. After many similar hair-breadth escapes, we at last swiftly glided into what had just been one of the outer circles, but now crossed by random whales, all violently making for one centre. This lucky salvation was cheaply purchased by the loss of Queequeg’s hat, who, while standing in the bows to prick the fugitive whales, had his hat taken clean from his head by the air-eddy made by the sudden tossing of a pair of broad flukes close by. Continue Reading

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  • He read and re-read the paper, fearing the worst had happened to me.

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    On November 3, 2012 • By

    He read and re-read the paper, fearing the worst had happened to me. He was restless, and after supper prowled out again aimlessly. He returned and tried in vain to divert his attention to his examination notes. He went to bed a little after midnight, and was awakened from lurid dreams in the small hours. Continue Reading

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  • Gallery Post – I realised that the crest of Maybury Hill must be within range of the Martians

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    On November 2, 2012 • By

    I and my wife stood amazed. Then I realised that the crest of Maybury Hill must be within range of the Martians’ Heat-Ray now that the college was cleared out of the way. At that I gripped my wife’s arm, and without ceremony ran her out into the road. Then I fetched out the servant, telling her I would go upstairs myself for the box she was clamouring for.

    “We can’t possibly stay here,” I said; and as I spoke the firing reopened for a moment upon the common. “But where are we to go?” said my wife in terror. I thought perplexed. Then I remembered her cousins at Leatherhead.

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  • Other poets have warbled praises of soft eye of the antelope

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    On November 1, 2012 • By

    Still, we can hypothesize, even if we cannot prove and establish. My hypothesis is this: that the spout is nothing but mist. And besides other reasons, to this conclusion I am impelled, by considerations touching the great inherent dignity and sublimity of the Sperm Whale Continue Reading

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  • [Link] Post with link to elsewhere

    On November 1, 2012 | Minimalism | By

    But what thinks Lazarus? Can he warm his blue hands by holding them up to the grand northern lights? Would not Lazarus rather be in Sumatra than here? Would he not far rather lay him down lengthwise along the line of the equator; yea, ye gods! go down to the fiery pit itself, in order …...

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