Difference between revisions of "Page 482"
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— White eyeluscious and muddyhorsebroth! Pig Pursyriley! | — White eyeluscious and muddyhorsebroth! Pig Pursyriley! | ||
But where do we get off, chiseller? | But where do we get off, chiseller? | ||
− | — Haltstille, Lucas and Dublinn! Vulva! Vulva! Vulva! | + | — [[Haltstille]], [[Lucas]] and Dublinn! [[Vulva]]! Vulva! Vulva! |
Vulva! | Vulva! | ||
— Macdougal, Atlantic City, or his onagrass that is, chuam | — Macdougal, Atlantic City, or his onagrass that is, chuam |
Revision as of 18:11, 12 October 2016
Eddy's Christy, meaning Dodgfather, Dodgson and Coo) and spiriduous sanction! — Breeze softly. Aures are aureas. Hau's his naun? — Me das has or oreils. Piercey, piercey, piercey, piercey! — White eyeluscious and muddyhorsebroth! Pig Pursyriley! But where do we get off, chiseller? — Haltstille, Lucas and Dublinn! Vulva! Vulva! Vulva! Vulva! — Macdougal, Atlantic City, or his onagrass that is, chuam and coughan! I would go near identifying you from your stavro- tides, Jong of Maho, and the weslarias round your yokohahat. And that O'mulanchonry plucher you have from the worst curst of Ireland, Glwlwd of the Mghtwg Grwpp, is no use to you either, Johnny my donkeyschott. Number four,fix up your spreadeagle and pull your weight! — Hooshin hom to our regional's hin and the gander of Hayden. Would ye ken a young stepschuler of psychical chiro- graphy, the name of Keven, or (let outers pray) Evan Vaughan, of his Posthorn in the High Street, that was shooing a Guiney gagag, Poulepinter, that found the dogumen number one, I would suggest, an illegible downfumbed by an unelgible? — If I do know sinted sageness? Sometimes he would keep silent for a few minutes as if in prayer and clasp his forehead and during the time he would be thinking to himself and he would not mind anybody who would be talking to him or crying stinking fish. But I no way need you, stroke oar nor your quick handles. Your too farfar a cock of the north there, Matty Armagh, and your due south so. — South I see. You're up-in-Leal-Ulster and I'm-free-Down- in-Easia, this is much better. He is cured by faith who is sick of fate. The prouts who will invent a writing there ultimately is the poeta, still more learned, who discovered the raiding there origin- ally. That's the point of eschatology our book of kills reaches for now in soandso many counterpoint words. What can't be coded can be decorded if an ear aye sieze what no eye ere grieved for. Now, the doctrine obtains, we have occasioning cause caus-