Michelle Franklin

The dust of thirty years hung lifeless in shafts of morning light, the gilding of perfectly prim pages shone incanescent, the shriek of rolling ladders mourned in perennial soliloquy.

This book is a work of fiction.Actually, it is a work of fiction within a fiction, as the main characters, though real persons in a fictional world, are being depicted in a book which other fictional characters in the same world are reading. Any reference to historical events-- rather, historical events non-Marridonian, and also non-Sesternese-- real people__ather, people in our realm, not the persons I was referring to in the previous line-- or real places__laces that are not Marridon, Sesterna, and any place on the Two Continents-- are used fictitiously, because this is a work of fiction, and is a fiction within a fiction, as was previously stated. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination__eferring to the ultimate author, not the fictitious author who has written the book within the book-- and any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, living, dead, or otherwise, is entirely coincidental, but any resemblance to actual persons or places in the Two Continents is intentional. Absolutely no parts of this book, text or art, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means, whether electronically or mechanically, including photocopying___y Myrellenos, are we here in the disclaimer again? This is the third time, I believe. And there are still no cups out. Where is the teapot?___ere, boss.___h, there is tea in this story? I might be more inclined to stay and hear this one. The others were dreadful slow. I must have some tea, if I am going to be made to sit and listen to a whole book. I am not Bartleby, who can sit at his desk and flump over his tomes until he moulders.___e__ gonna hear you, boss.___ should say not, Rannig. He is too busy with doing the edits. He found a mistake in one of the other books about us and demanded he perform the editing this time around. The author was very good to let him do as he likes. He is missing tea, however._--audio recording, data retrieval, cloud storage, torrent, or streaming service. If you do decide to ignore this disclaimer and print or share this book illegally, I will have Bartleby come to your house with a sample from the Marridonian legal extracts, and he will read them to you until you promise never to do anything illegal again.

Attracting musicians is rather like inviting flies over to tea: they are tolerable for half an hour, but when they begin to touch the food, you either wish they would go home or die.

A demigod who reaches his apotheosis never mourns for himself.It is the business of his many adulators to mourn for him. He cannot feel sadness to be so great, leaving all the rest of us to champion in trembling misery.I, surprisingly, have very few words to offer, only because this year has taken so many sensational performers from us. There comes a time when the agony of loss is too great, when we feel it too much-- there is nothing left but painful astonishment. My grievances lie more with the Gods for taking him away from us than they do with his parting. I suppose I shall reach the stage of unconscionable sorrow at some point; now I am half confusion and half indignation. It should be impossible for people to be so deeply affected by someone whom we have never formally met, but this is existence: it is a bold measure we take, this stake in sufferance; we must all go through everything together, another proof of the mask of division. We all feel the same things, and Prince's passing is felt no less by anybody. Between him and Bowie, there is now a musical chasm in the world, a place where Gods once dwelt that is now abandoned, and in the Age of Pseudolotry, where what is nonsensical reigns over what is intelligent, we are likely never to see one of his kind again.Goodnight, sweet Prince. We shall go on trundling through this 'thing called life' with hearts defrauded of our greatest love.--On the death of Prince

Shut up, shut up, will you! Nobody minds that you are in pain. Pain is a human condition. You do not care that I am hungry, do you? And therefore I do not need to care whether you are in agony. Nobody is hurting you! Be quiet, be quiet! Rannig, fill his mouth with dirt, and I__ sure I do not care what diseases he contracts. He has already been in the water. He has probably swallowed millions of pestilential microbes, and they are none of them acting too quickly. Do you hear me? I say shut up, sir! By my hat__he man makes a noise to shatter teeth! Here, what are you complaining about?_ Bartleby looked over and saw where Shandandzo was gripping himself. __h, they are only knees! You have two of them and an immune system__he body heals, if you leave it alone! You need not shout about it!_ He took the headwrap from Rannig__ hand and shoved it into Shandandzo__ mouth. __here. That will quiet you for a while. Don__ you know there are men reading and having their tea? Shameful of you to carry on in this way. The captain only put your knife behind your kneecaps and made a few fractures. Hardly anything to cry about at all. A man has no business crying about kneecaps. A tendon, I grant you, might deserve a paltry yelp or two, but you are alive and you have your health otherwise_ you can want nothing else. You hardly need your knees when you are always on the gad, stealing priceless artifacts from visiting dignitaries__nd you are a noble besides. Nobles have money: they hardly need feelings or knees. They have men for that._ He snuffed and watched Shandandzo__ eyes roll back in his head. __ow, if you will be a very good convulsing noble, or whatever it is you are, you will be quiet and make no more fuss about your knees._ He turned back toward the teahouse, humphed to himself, and moved to go, but turning back, he said, __nd if you make anymore obnoxious noises whilst I am writing my notes, I will have the boy throw you down a well.

The skies gave way to the full ascendence of morning and clouds skittered across the expanse, the variations on a nebulous theme woven on a celestial loom.

The greatest ugliness in the world is seeing so beautiful a creature spoil themselves on stupidity.

Women always think in the catastrophic, and when there is a calamity to rectify that might require a unmarried granddaughter, there older women will always act. Their powers of foresight and vigilance might make any disheveled or nubile young haggage ready for the altar in five minutes.

And the matron sighed over the destiny of ladies in good society, whose moral judgement led them to love unabashedly and whose depravity led them to pay for it.

We come by aurora,with a heavy and sovereign tread,with the might of matriarchs to furnish our shoulders,with the apricity of light to crown our heads

Tea was the great arbiter of many things, and for Pastaddams, his morning cup meant the difference between expressing rational thought and succumbing to the ineptitude that occupied recesses of his dormant mind. Merely having the cup in his hand facilitated the flow of ideas, and upon tea, the great nourishment of the tailor__ life, rested all his claims to rational dependence.

The old who refuse to die merely on principle live on forever, to hate life and complain of all the things they could have been spared had they the good sense to die young.

You will try to improve me, Captain, but I tell you it cannot be done. I am resigned to moral apathy and corporeal decrepitude, and have done with projections. No, Captain,_ with a pining sigh, __ think I will simply sit in the shade and wait for either a customer or death, the latter I might prefer, at such a point.

I leave the outdoors to you. It is too warm out there to read comfortable, and summer, like many uncomfortable things, is as welcome as a dim woman. It is tolerable to look at, but after being made to interact with it, nobody wants anything to do with it.

You__ Mr Bellstrode began, and then leaning forward and sinking his voice, __ou would kill for money?___s there any other reason to? Well, I suppose there is revenge, but that, you know, never makes one feel as well as it should when it is all said and done. Money is a much better reward than retribution. Something substantial by way of compensation for emotional wrongs is much the best cure for an injured spirit. I do provide fatal retaliation for nothing when it is deserved, but as you are neither a poor helpless wretch nor the victim of national injustice, full payment is expected.

No one needs Independence. We all just need tea and air conditioners.

Teaching a man how to clean barnacles from a keel is an amazing useful talent, one any child should be fortunate to learn. Magochiro is our champion barnaclebully at present. String him under a keel, and he will bring back dinner enough for ten.

I don't talk ill about people I don't know," said Bartleby. "I only disparage them in silence and hope they die.