Do not…?

March 14, 2015

donotfeed

As the candles burn…

March 14, 2015

candle

As the candles burn blue and the air smells of brimstone at the approach of the Evil One, so, in the quiet and healthy air of Golden Friars, a depressing and agitating influence announced the coming of the long-absent Baronet.

From abroad, no good whatever had been at any time heard of him, and a great deal that was, in the ears of simple folk living in that unsophisticated part of the world, vaguely awful.

Stories that travel so far, however, lose something of their authority, as well as definiteness, on the way; there was always room for charity to suggest a mistake or exaggeration; and if good men turned up their hands and eyes after a new story, and ladies of experience, who knew mankind, held their heads high and looked grim and mysterious at mention of his name, nevertheless an interval of silence softened matters a little, and the sulphureous perfume dissipated itself in time.

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
The Haunted Baronet

THIS SHOP IS HAUNTED…

March 14, 2015

Lotsbooks

If you are ever in Brooklyn, that borough of superb sunsets and magnificent vistas of husband-propelled baby-carriages, it is to be hoped you may chance upon a quiet by-street where there is a very remarkable bookshop.

This bookshop, which does business under the unusual name “Parnassus at Home,” is housed in one of the comfortable old brown-stone dwellings which have been the joy of several generations of plumbers and cockroaches. The owner of the business has been at pains to remodel the house to make it a more suitable shrine for his trade, which deals entirely in second-hand volumes. There is no second-hand bookshop in the world more worthy of respect.

It was about six o’clock of a cold November evening, with gusts of rain splattering upon the pavement, when a young man proceeded uncertainly along Gissing Street, stopping now and then to look at shop windows as though doubtful of his way. At the warm and shining face of a French rotisserie he halted to compare the number enamelled on the transom with a memorandum in his hand. Then he pushed on for a few minutes, at last reaching the address he sought. Over the entrance his eye was caught by the sign:

PARNASSUS AT HOME
R. AND H. MIFFLIN
BOOKLOVERS WELCOME!
THIS SHOP IS HAUNTED

He stumbled down the three steps that led into the dwelling of the muses, lowered his overcoat collar, and looked about.

It was very different from such bookstores as he had been accustomed to patronize. Two stories of the old house had been thrown into one: the lower space was divided into little alcoves; above, a gallery ran round the wall, which carried books to the ceiling. The air was heavy with the delightful fragrance of mellowed paper and leather surcharged with
a strong bouquet of tobacco. In front of him he found a large placard in a frame:

THIS SHOP IS HAUNTED by the ghosts
Of all great literature, in hosts;

We sell no fakes or trashes.
Lovers of books are welcome here,
No clerks will babble in your ear,

Please smoke–but don’t drop ashes!
***
Browse as long as you like.
Prices of all books plainly marked.
If you want to ask questions, you’ll find the proprietor where the tobacco smoke is thickest.
We pay cash for books.
We have what you want, though you may not know you want it. Malnutrition of the reading faculty is a serious thing.

Let us prescribe for you.

By R. & H. MIFFLIN,
Proprs.

CHRISTOPHER MORLEY
The Haunted Bookshop

Toiletrollholder

Reading this morning…

March 14, 2015

spicymystery

Fatherly love

March 14, 2015

Swing

He saw it all as a game.
That’s how he justified it to himself.
It was only a game,
And she was playing along too,
Pretending she didn’t like it.
She never hit out,
She only lay there,
Very still,
Hoping it was going to stop.
And when he’d finished,
He felt ashamed and dirty,
But the shame didn’t stop him enjoying it,
And it didn’t stop him doing it again.

Nothing stopped him doing it again.

Vicky Pointing

Hands2

In my opinion the strength of his obsession is such that he must attempt to carry out his promise! Not to do so would be admit failure, and that his insane egoism would never allow.

Agatha Christie
The ABC Murders

Delightful evening…

March 14, 2015

Delightfulevening

black&BLUE

The weekend comes round again, and I go from naught to horny in less than .5 of a second…!!

Bookstack

They were wheeling wheeling in each other’s arms heedless at the far end where they had drawn up one of the white blinds. Above from a rather low ceiling five great chandeliers swept one after the other almost to the waxed parquet floor reflecting in their hundred thousand drops the single sparkle of distant day, again and again red velvet panelled walls, and two girls, minute in purple, dancing multiplied to eternity in these trembling pears of glass.”

Henry Green
Loving