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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Well, the Matterhorn or Mont Blanc; he has to climb mountains, glaciers, something of that kind. I remember last year I wrote to him saying that I did not understand the three past tenses in French, and would he explain why something, I have forgotten what and he answered: 'Avec mes pieds sur des glaciers je ne puis m'arreter pour vous expliquer les trois passes."
What waiter what cook can possibly respect men who take no soup, and begin with a roti; who know neither what is good nor what is bad; who eat rognons at dinner instead of at breakfast, and fall into raptures over sauce Robert and pieds de cochon; who cannot tell, at the first taste, whether the beaune is premiere qualite, or the fricassee made of yesterday's chicken; who suffer in the stomach after champignon, and die with indigestion of a truffle?
Having measured this rock geometrically, the result is as follows: «Le plus grand des arcs de cercle que forment ces couches extérieures de ce rocher, a donc pour corde une ligne d'environ 800 pieds: dans toute cette étendue, ces couches de même que les intérieures sont suivies sans interruption.
I cannot trace my pieds de mouche but with great labour and trouble; so e'en take your own share of the burden, my old friend; and, since I cannot read, be thankful I can write. I will look at his proof, however, and then be quiet and idle for the rest of the evening. I am come to Charles the First's trial, and though I have it by heart, I must refresh myself with a reading of Clarendon.
An extraordinary luxury, this. We were thirteen at table. January 6. At dessert yesterday I offered some bonbons to the ladies, saying as I did so: Grace a Boissier, chere colombes, Heureux, a vos pieds nous tombons. Car on prend les forts par les bombes Et les faibles par les bonbons. The Parisians out of curiosity visit the bombarded districts.
This drinking of brandy, "neat," I may remark by the way, is not quite so bad as it looks. Whiskey or rum taken unmixed from a tumbler is a knock-down blow to temperance, but the little thimbleful of brandy, or Chartreuse, or Maraschino, is only, as it were, tweaking the nose of teetotalism. Well, to go back behind our brackets, the guest is calling to the waiter, "Garcon! et le bain de pieds!"
ZAMORE: Reconnais ton amant. ALZIRE: Zamore aux pieds d'Alzire! Est-ce une illusion? It was no illusion; and the unfortunate princess was obliged to confess to her lover that she was already married to Don Gusman.
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