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Updated: May 27, 2025
It drove between me and the Central Suns blotting them out from my vision, and plunging me into an impenetrable night. An age, and I saw again the violet rays. A great while later aeons it must have been a circular glow grew in the sky, ahead, and I saw the edge of the receding star, show darkly against it. Thus, I knew that it was nearing the Central Suns.
She just crumbled up a piece of bread; then rose, and went into the library to Maurice's desk... She sat there for a long time, making idle scratches on the blotting paper; her elbow on the desk, her forehead in her hand, she sat and scrawled his initials and hers and his. And then, after about an hour, she wrote: ... I want you to have Jacky.
Since evenfall a wall of cloud, massive and portentous, had been climbing up over the western hills, slowly but with ominous steadiness obscuring the moon-swept sky with its far, pale wreaths of stars, blotting it out with monstrous folds and convolutions of impenetrable purple-black.
"I felt glad," he lied, with looks that shunned Lynette's, "that in your need you found so good a friend as the Mother-Superior. Yours must have been a sorrowful, lonely childhood." Her own vision rose before her, blotting out his face. She saw the little kopje with the grave at its foot.
And at midnight we see the theatre break up and discharge its swarm of hilarious youth and beauty; we hear the cries of the hackman-gondoliers, and behold the struggling crowd jump aboard, and the black multitude of boats go skimming down the moonlit avenues; we see them separate here and there, and disappear up divergent streets; we hear the faint sounds of laughter and of shouted farewells floating up out of the distance; and then, the strange pageant being gone, we have lonely stretches of glittering water of stately buildings of blotting shadows of weird stone faces creeping into the moonlight of deserted bridges of motionless boats at anchor.
"Ah! whence yon glare That fires the arch of heaven? that dark red smoke Blotting the silver moon?... Hark to that roar whose swift and deafening peals, In countless echoes, through the mountains ring, Startling pale midnight on her starry throne! Loud and more loud, the discord grows, Till pale Death shuts the scene, And o'er the conqueror and the conquered draws His cold and bloody shroud."
What atonement can I ever make, for the shame, the humiliation, the suffering, which I have brought into your life? "In this brief sketch, Fillmore, you have the substance of Martha's sad story. I believe it was absolutely true. I was deeply moved, by her abject misery and humiliation. A great wave of tender sympathy, swelled in my heart; blotting out all thoughts of self.
III. The Blotting Out of Hellas The triumph of Sparta has established her empire among the Greeks; she used her power with a tyranny infinitely more galling than the sway of Athens. The Spartan character had become greatly demoralised. Agesilaus, who succeeded to the kingship, set on foot ambitious projects for a Greek conquest of Asia; but Greece began to revolt against the Spartan dominion.
Alfred was concerned, like a fresh piece of blotting paper, that absorbed all that was spoken, and asked for more. She was very appreciative, and incredibly ignorant a kind of female Caspar Hauser. "I should like to see Rome," she said. "It must be a lovely city, with all the strangers who are continually arriving there. Now, do give us a description of Rome.
Since it was bound upon a long-distance trip, somewhere in its career it would be caught in an upward sweep of the wind and thrown aloft, and then it would hurtle along at the speed of the wind, blotting everything from sight, hitting hard whatever it encountered, and piling in wherever it found a sheltered space.
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