Their laughter was like the stridulation of the ghosts of grasshoppers.
His heart cracked, and he fell in love. He wondered if she would marry him. __u sei pazzo,_ she told him with a pleasant laugh. __hy am I crazy?_ he asked. __erché non posso sposare._ __hy can__ you get married?_ __ecause I am not a virgin,_ she answered. __hat has that got to do with it?_ __ho will marry me? No one wants a girl who is not a virgin._ __ will. I__l marry you._ __a non posso sposarti._ __hy can__ you marry me?_ __erché sei pazzo._ __hy am I crazy?_ __erché vuoi sposarmi._ Yossarian wrinkled his forehead with quizzical amusement. __ou won__ marry me because I__ crazy, and you say I__ crazy because I want to marry you? Is that right?_ __i._ __u sei pazz_!_ he told her loudly. __erché?_ she shouted back at him indignantly, her unavoidable round breasts rising and falling in a saucy huff beneath the pink chemise as she sat up in bed indignantly. __hy am I crazy?_ __ecause you won__ marry me._ __tupido!_ she shouted back at him, and smacked him loudly and flamboyantly on the chest with the back of her hand. __on posso sposarti! Non capisci? Non posso sposarti._ __h, sure, I understand. And why can__ you marry me?_ __erché sei pazzo!_ __nd why am I crazy?_ __erché vuoi sposarmi._ __ecause I want to marry you. Carina, ti amo,_ he explained, and he drew her gently back down to the pillow. __i amo molto._ __u sei pazzo,_ she murmured in reply, flattered. __erché?_ __ecause you say you love me. How can you love a girl who is not a virgin?_ __ecause I can__ marry you._ She bolted right up again in a threatening rage. __hy can__ you marry me?_ she demanded, ready to clout him again if he gave an uncomplimentary reply. __ust because I am not a virgin?_ __o, no, darling. Because you__e crazy.
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His heart cracked, and he fell in love. He wondered if she would marry him. __u sei pazzo,_ she told him with a pleasant laugh. __hy am I crazy?_ he asked. __erché non posso sposare._ __hy can__ you get married?_ __ecause I am not a virgin,_ she answered. __hat has that got to do with it?_ __ho will marry me? No one wants a girl who is not a virgin._ __ will. I__l marry you._ __a non posso sposarti._ __hy can__ you marry me?_ __erché sei pazzo._ __hy am I crazy?_ __erché vuoi sposarmi._ Yossarian wrinkled his forehead with quizzical amusement. __ou won__ marry me because I__ crazy, and you say I__ crazy because I want to marry you? Is that right?_ __i._ __u sei pazz_!_ he told her loudly. __erché?_ she shouted back at him indignantly, her unavoidable round breasts rising and falling in a saucy huff beneath the pink chemise as she sat up in bed indignantly. __hy am I crazy?_ __ecause you won__ marry me._ __tupido!_ she shouted back at him, and smacked him loudly and flamboyantly on the chest with the back of her hand. __on posso sposarti! Non capisci? Non posso sposarti._ __h, sure, I understand. And why can__ you marry me?_ __erché sei pazzo!_ __nd why am I crazy?_ __erché vuoi sposarmi._ __ecause I want to marry you. Carina, ti amo,_ he explained, and he drew her gently back down to the pillow. __i amo molto._ __u sei pazzo,_ she murmured in reply, flattered. __erché?_ __ecause you say you love me. How can you love a girl who is not a virgin?_ __ecause I can__ marry you._ She bolted right up again in a threatening rage. __hy can__ you marry me?_ she demanded, ready to clout him again if he gave an uncomplimentary reply. __ust because I am not a virgin?_ __o, no, darling. Because you__e crazy.
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Just behind his jaw bones a tiny movement was perceptible, like the movement of gills in a fish.
Franklin Fletcher dreamed of luxury in the form of tiger-skins and beautiful women. He was prepared, at a pinch, to forgo the tiger-skins. Unfortunately the beautiful women seemed equally rare and inaccessible. At his office and at his boarding-house the girls were mere mice, or cattish, or kittenish, or had insufficiently read the advertisements.
How happy I might be, if only she was less greedy, better tempered, not addicted to raking up old grudges, more affectionate, with slightly yellower hair, slimmer, and about twenty years younger! But what is the good of expecting such a woman to reform?
There are some young almond tress, which ordinarily look as if drawn by a childish hand. Now, as the wind sets their weak branches gibbering, they seem like shamanistic scratches on the white bone of the brittle bright night.