Lifestyle Category

  • 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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  • In Weybridge headquarters

    Featured, LifestyleComments (0)

    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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  • [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 …...

  • Art is the most intense mode of individualism that the world has known.

    ” Oscar Wilde ”

  • Audio Post – Soundcloud ready

    Audio, LiteratureComments (0)

    On August 24, 2012 • By

    Image source. We went down the lane, by the body of the man in black, sodden now from the overnight hail, and broke into the woods at the foot of the hill. We pushed through these towards the railway without meeting a soul. The woods across the line were but the scarred and blackened ruins of woods; for the most part the trees had fallen, but a certain proportion still stood, dismal grey stems, with dark brown foliage instead of green. Continue Reading

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