Manual 舌尖上的狂欢 Revelries on the Tongue Tip

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James Joyce 13 flaps of the ears. Term, vacation; tunnel, out; noise, stop. How far away it was! It was better to go to bed to sleep.

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Only prayers in the chapel and then bed. He shivered and yawned. It would be lovely in bed after the sheets got a bit hot. First they were so cold to get into.

Vieta, kur sajust tā pa īstam, ka esi latvietis - 3x3 saiets

He shivered to think how cold they were first. But then they got hot and then he could sleep. It was lovely to be tired. He yawned again.

Night prayers and then bed: he shivered and wanted to yawn. It would be lovely in a few minutes. He felt a warm glow creeping up from the cold shivering sheets, warmer and warmer till he felt warm all over, ever so warm and yet he shivered a little and still wanted to yawn.

The corridors were darkly lit and the chapel was darkly lit. Soon all would be dark and sleeping. There was cold night air in the chapel and the marbles were the colour the sea was at night. The sea was cold day and night: but it was colder at night. It was cold and dark under the seawall beside his father's house. But the kettle would be on the hob to make punch. The prefect of the chapel prayed above his head and his memory knew the responses: O Lord open our lips And our mouths shall announce Thy praise.

Incline unto our aid, O God! O Lord make haste to help us! There was a cold night smell in the chapel. But it was a holy smell. It was not like the smell of the old peasants who knelt at the back of the chapel at Sunday mass. That was a smell of air and rain and turf and corduroy.

But they were very holy peasants. They breathed behind him On his neck and sighed as they prayed. They lived in Clane, a fellow said: there were little cottages there and he had seen a woman standing at the half-door of a cottage with a child in her arms as the cars had come past from Sallins. But O, the road there between the trees was dark!

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You would be lost in the dark. It made him afraid to think of how it was. He prayed it too against the dark outside under the trees. Visit, we beseech Thee, o Lord, this habitation and drive away from it all the snares of the enemy. May Thy holy angels dwell herein to preserve us in peace and may Thy blessings be always upon us through Christ Our Lord. His fingers trembled as he undressed himself in the dormitory. He told his fingers to hurry up.

He had to undress and then kneel and say his own prayers and be in bed before the gas was lowered so that he might not go to hell when he died. He rolled his stockings off and put on his nightshirt quickly and knelt trembling at his bedside and repeated his prayers quickly, fearing that the gas would go down. He felt his shoulders shaking as he murmured: God bless my father and my mother and spare them to me!

God bless my little brothers and sisters and spare them to me! God bless Dante and Uncle Charles and spare them to me! He blessed himself and climbed quickly into bed and, tucking the end of the nightshirt under his feet, curled himself together under the cold white sheets, shaking and trembling. But he would not go to hell when he died; and the shaking would stop. A voice bade the boys in the dormitory good night. He peered out for an instant over the coverlet and saw the yellow curtains round and before his bed that shut him off on all sides.

The light was lowered quietly. James Joyce 15 The prefect's shoes went away. Down the staircase and along the corridors or to his room at the end? He saw the dark. Was it true about the black dog that walked there at night with eyes as big as carriage-lamps? They said it was the ghost of a murderer. A long shiver of fear flowed over his body. He saw the dark entrance hall of the castle. Old servants in old dress were in the ironingroom above the staircase.

It was long ago. The old servants were quiet. There was a fire there, but the hall was still dark.

A figure came up the staircase from the hall. He wore the white cloak of a marshal; his face was pale and strange; he held his hand pressed to his side. He looked out of strange eyes at the old servants. They looked at him and saw their master's face and cloak and knew that he had received his death-wound. But only the dark was where they looked: only dark silent air. Their master had received his death-wound on the battlefield of Prague far away over the sea.

He was standing on the field; his hand was pressed to his side; his face was pale and strange and he wore the white cloak of a marshal. All the dark was cold and strange.

There were pale strange faces there, great eyes like carriage-lamps. They were the ghosts of murderers, the figures of marshals who had received their death-wound on battlefields far away over the sea. What did they wish to say that their faces were so strange? Visit, we beseech Thee, O Lord, this habitation and drive away from it all Going home for the holidays! That would be lovely: the fellows had told him. Getting up on the cars in the early wintry morning outside the door of the castle. The cars were rolling on the gravel.