Difference between revisions of "Page 231"
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me there title to where was a hovel not a havel ([[the first rattle of his juniverse|the first rattle of | me there title to where was a hovel not a havel ([[the first rattle of his juniverse|the first rattle of | ||
]][[the first rattle of his juniverse|his juniverse]]) with a tingtumtingling and a next, next and next | ]][[the first rattle of his juniverse|his juniverse]]) with a tingtumtingling and a next, next and next | ||
− | (gin a paddy? got a petty? gussies, gif it ope?), while itch ish | + | ([[gin a paddy? got a petty? gussies, gif it ope?]]), while itch ish |
shome. | shome. | ||
<I> <STRIKE> </STRIKE> My God, alas, that dear olt tumtum home </I> | <I> <STRIKE> </STRIKE> My God, alas, that dear olt tumtum home </I> |
Revision as of 05:01, 16 July 2011
me there title to where was a hovel not a havel (the first rattle of his juniverse) with a tingtumtingling and a next, next and next (gin a paddy? got a petty? gussies, gif it ope?), while itch ish shome.My God, alas, that dear olt tumtum home Whereof in youthfood port I preyed Amook the verdigrassy convict vallsall dazes. And cloitered for amourmeant in thy boosome shede! His mouthfull of ecstasy (for Shing-Yung-Thing in Shina from Yoruyume across the Timor Sea), herepong (maladventure!) shot pinging up through the errorooth of his wisdom (who thought him a Fonar all, feastking of shellies by googling Lovvey, regally freytherem, eagelly plumed, and wasbut gumboil owrithy prods wretched some horsery megee plods coffin acid odarkery pluds dense floppens mugurdy) as thought it had been zawhen intwo. Wholly sanguish blooded up disconvulsing the fixtures of his fizz. Apang which his tempory chewer med him a crazy chump of a Haveajube Sillayass. Joshua Croesus, son of Nunn! Though he shall live for millions of years a life of billions of years, from their roseaced glows to their violast lustres, he shall not forget that pucking Pugases. Holihowlsballs and bloody acres! Like gnawthing unheardth! But, by Jove Chronides, Seed of Summ, after at he had bate his breastplates for, forforget, forforgetting his birdsplace, it was soon that, that he, that he rehad himself. By a prayer? No, that comes later. By contrite attrition? Nay, that we passed. Mid esercizism? So is richt. And it was so. And Malthos Moramor resumed his soul. With: Go Ferchios off to Allad out of this! An oldsteinsong. He threwed his fit up to his aers, rolled his poligone eyes, snivelled from his snose and blew the guff out of his hornypipe. The hopjoimt jerk of a ladle broom jig that he learned in locofoco when a redhot turnspite he. Under reign of old Roastin the Bowl Ratskillers, readyos! Why was that man for he's doin her wrong! Lookery looks, how he's knots in his entrails! Mookery mooks, it's a grippe of his gripes. Seekeryseeks, why his biting he's head off?