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zero 12-12-2011 12:18 PM

12"razormix 12-12-2011 01:09 PM

YsaPur EsChomuw 12-12-2011 03:27 PM

Brynn 12-12-2011 06:50 PM

YsaPur EsChomuw 12-13-2011 06:09 AM

12"razormix 12-13-2011 07:13 AM

Hyakujo's Fox 12-13-2011 09:31 AM

funkytuba 01-04-2012 02:51 PM

Brynn 01-05-2012 08:20 AM

zero 01-05-2012 10:47 AM

YsaPur EsChomuw 01-05-2012 03:47 PM

brightpearl 01-05-2012 10:50 PM

Brynn 06-25-2012 04:41 AM

MoJoRiSin 06-25-2012 09:04 PM

YsaPur EsChomuw 06-26-2012 04:55 AM

Hyakujo's Fox 06-27-2012 01:29 AM

Bman 07-05-2012 01:09 AM

YsaPur EsChomuw 07-05-2012 02:21 AM

Hyakujo's Fox 07-07-2012 11:44 AM

MoJoRiSin 07-07-2012 12:29 PM


Originally Posted by zero (Post 411670)
my daddy used to say 'well there's a horse - go get on it' - and if you got threw off, o well.


Bman 07-17-2012 12:41 PM

MoJoRiSin 07-18-2012 01:29 PM

"The letter that launched Darwin into a prolonged attack of anxiety came from the ReverEnd Baden Powell, the Savilian Professor of geometry at Oxford, a theologian and physicist who had been forthright in his support for the development theory for some time. The elderly professor was on the brink of being prosecuted for ecclesiastical heresy. Of all the letters in that day's pile, the one from Powell would be innocuous enough, Darwin assumed. He scanned it quickly, relieved to glimpse, phases like "masterly volume" and a few other words of praise. But Baldwin Powell was not happy. Having finished with his compliments, the professor launched into a direct attack, criticizing Darwin not for being wrong, not for being an infidel, but for failing to acknowledge his predecessors. He even implied that Darwin had taken credit for a theory that had already been argued by others, notably himself.

Brynn 09-01-2012 09:19 PM

brightpearl 09-02-2012 12:33 AM

Hyakujo's Fox 09-02-2012 10:12 AM

Brynn 09-10-2012 01:35 PM

Look who's got Santa's beard!

YsaPur EsChomuw 09-11-2012 06:32 AM

MoJoRiSin 09-11-2012 08:21 PM



9 May.

My dearest Lucy,

Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply overwhelmed
with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is sometimes
trying. I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can
talk together freely and build our castles in the air. I have been
working very hard lately, because I want to keep up with Jonathan's
studies, and I have been practicing shorthand very assiduously.
When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if
I can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in
this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I
am practicing very hard.

He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is
keeping a stenographic journal of his travels abroad. When
I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way. I don't
mean one of those two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed-
in-a-corner diaries, but a sort of journal which I can write
in whenever I feel inclined.

I do not suppose there will be much of interest to other people, but
it is not intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if
there is in it anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise
book. I shall try to do what I see lady journalists do,
interviewing and writing descriptions and trying to remember
conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, one can
remember all that goes on or that one hears said during a day.

However, we shall see. I will tell you of my little plans when we
meet. I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from
Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week. I
am longing to hear all his news. It must be nice to see strange
countries. I wonder if we, I mean Jonathan and I, shall ever see
them together. There is the ten o'clock bell ringing. Goodbye.

Your loving


Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me
anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially
of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man???


17, Chatham Street


My dearest Mina,

I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad correspondent.
I wrote you twice since we parted, and your last letter was only
your second. Besides, I have nothing to tell you. There is really
nothing to interest you.
Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a great deal to
picture-galleries and for walks and rides in the park. As
to the tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was the one who
was with me at the last Pop. Someone has evidently been
telling tales.

That was Mr. Holmwood. He often comes to see us, and he and
Mamma get on very well together, they have so many things
to talk about in common.

We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were
not already engaged to Jonathan. He is an excellent _parti_, being
handsome, well off, and of good birth. He is a doctor and really
clever. Just fancy! He is only nine-and-twenty, and he has an
immense lunatic asylum all under his own care. Mr. Holmwood
introduced him to me, and he called here to see us, and often comes
now. I think he is one of the most resolute men I ever saw, and yet
the most calm. He seems absolutely imperturbable. I can fancy what
a wonderful power he must have over his patients. He has a curious
habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read
one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter
myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass.

Do you ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can
tell you it is not a bad study, and gives you more trouble
than you can well fancy if you have never tried it.

He says that I afford him a curious psychological study, and
I humbly think I do. I do not, as you know, take sufficient
interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions.
Dress is a bore. That is slang again, but never mind. Arthur
says that every day.

There, it is all out, Mina, we have told all our secrets to
each other since we were children. We have slept together
and eaten together, and laughed and cried together, and
now, though I have spoken, I would like to speak more. Oh,
Mina, couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing as I
write, for although I think he loves me, he has not told me
so in words. But, oh, Mina, I love him. I love him! There,
that does me good.

I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire undressing, as we
used to sit, and I would try to tell you what I feel. I do not know
how I am writing this even to you. I am afraid to stop, or I should
tear up the letter, and I don't want to stop, for I do so want to
tell you all. Let me hear from you at once, and tell me all that you
think about it. Mina, pray for my happiness.


P.S.--I need not tell you this is a secret.
Goodnight again. L.
~ Bram Stoker

or if you listen to the audio book of a man reading it while you are
scrubbing the bathroom floor
all the better
(for the full effect)

Hyakujo's Fox 09-11-2012 08:50 PM

MoJoRiSin 09-12-2012 09:42 PM

Odbe 09-28-2012 08:54 PM

brightpearl 09-29-2012 05:02 AM

I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to post this for like 6 months. Thanks Odbe!

Brynn 10-03-2012 06:56 PM

YsaPur EsChomuw 10-03-2012 08:35 PM

brightpearl 10-04-2012 04:37 PM

YsaPur EsChomuw 10-04-2012 11:29 PM

Brynn 10-09-2012 03:08 PM

zero 10-10-2012 03:34 PM


brightpearl 10-22-2012 10:37 AM

MoJoRiSin 10-22-2012 02:50 PM



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