The White Paper

The White Paper

Language: English

Pages: 0


Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

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the first peep of the prenatal poem that will break the record in the child prodigy-class. Would The White Paper be autobiographical then? In which case I refuse its paternity, for what I find charming here is that the author talks without talking about himself. Were I, now, to write an autobiographical book, it wouldn't be limited to describing what by common consent is called vice. It would abound in sexual commonplaces which as inked out by me would assume some singular delineations. Too

myself happy at last?" "I'd be delighted." "Well then, rejoice, for I am happy, but my happiness is of a variety the Church and society disapprove, for it is friendship that causes my happiness and, with me, friendship knows neither boundary nor restraint." Father X*** interrupted me. "I believe," said he, "that you are the victim of scruples." "Reverend Father," I rejoined, "I'd not insult the Church by supposing that she negotiates compromises or omits to cross the t's and dot the i's. I am

truth hove through the clouds and, concealing my distress, I herded the madwoman towards the entry, explaining to her that for my part I'd not been robbed of anything, that H*** was simply my friend, that I knew nothing whatsoever of the liaison she'd just got through sketching so clamorously. "What!" she continued at the top of her lungs, "what! You are unaware that that child worships me and spends most of every night in my arms? He comes in from Versailles and returns there before dawn! I've

presence of beauty, knowing what they want, have everything tabbed and filed, specialize in a vice, perfect it, pay and satisfy it. One of them issued instructions that he be insulted, another that he be draped in chains. To reach his crisis, still another (a moralist) needed the spectacle of a young Hercules slaying a rat with a red-hot needle. I saw them come and go, it was one long procession of those sage individuals who know the exact recipe for their pleasure and for whom it's all smooth

bright sun which, enamored of Hyacinth, metamorphosed him into a flower." I'd located an isolated little beach for my sun-bathing. I would pull my boat up onto the shingle and dry myself in the kelp. On that beach one morning I came upon a young man who was swimming without a suit and who asked me if I minded. My reply was sufficiently frank to enlighten him as to my tastes. We were soon stretched out side by side. I learned that he lived in the neighboring village and was here for his health,

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