Paris : the wellpleased pleaser.
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#Ulysse 3780
21 juin 2022, par Guillaume Vissac -
#Ulysse 3919
7 novembre 2022, par Guillaume Vissac—Antisthenes, pupil of Gorgias, Stephen said, took the palm of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus’ brooddam, Argive Helen, the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and handed it to poor Penelope. Twenty years he lived in London and, during part of that time, he drew a salary equal to that of the lord chancellor of Ireland. His life was rich. His art, more than the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, is the art of surfeit. Hot herringpies, green mugs of sack, honeysauces, sugar of roses, marchpane, gooseberried pigeons, ringocandies. Sir Walter Raleigh, when they arrested him, had half a million francs on his back including a pair of fancy stays. The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough to vie with her of Sheba. Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its foul pleasures. You know Manningham’s story of the burgher’s wife who bade Dick Burbage to her bed after she had seen him in Richard III and how Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, took the cow by the horns and, when Burbage came knocking at the gate, answered from the capon’s blankets : William the conqueror came before Richard III. And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry O, and his dainty birdsnies, lady Penelope Rich, a clean quality woman is suited for a player, and the punks of the bankside, a penny a time.
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#Ulysse 3943
1er décembre 2022, par Guillaume Vissac—Antiquity mentions famous beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling. Let me think.
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#Ulysse 3502
15 septembre 2021, par Guillaume VissacThey have no. Never looked. I’ll look today. Keeper won’t see. Bend down let something drop. See if she.
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#Ulysse 2394
27 août 2018, par Guillaume VissacNed Lambert, seated on the table, read on :
— Or again, note the meanderings of some purling rill as it babbles on its
way, tho’ quarrelling with the stony obstacles, to the tumbling waters of Neptune’s blue domain, ’mid mossy banks, fanned by gentlest zephyrs, played on by the glorious sunlight or ’neath the shadows cast o’er its pensive bosom by the overarching leafage of the giants of the forest. What about that, Simon ? he asked over the fringe of his newspaper. How’s that for high ? -
#Ulysse 3504
17 septembre 2021, par Guillaume VissacA man and ready he drained his glass to the lees and walked, to men too they gave themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a youth enjoyed her, to the yard.
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#Ulysse 3499
12 septembre 2021, par Guillaume VissacQuaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all ambrosial. Not like a tanner lunch we have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity : gods’ food.
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#Ulysse 3885
4 octobre 2022, par Guillaume VissacEve. Naked wheatbellied sin. A snake coils her, fang in’s kiss.
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#Ulysse 3925
13 novembre 2022, par Guillaume VissacIn a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard, herbalist, hewalks, greyedauburn. An azured harebell like her veins. Lids of Juno’s eyes,violets. He walks.
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#Ulysse 365
4 février 2013, par Guillaume VissacA voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to him from the sea. Turning the curve he waved his hand. It called again. A sleek brown head, a seal’s, far out on the water, round. Usurper.