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Bos had already published fine studies of Baudelaire, Merimee and Proust which were very highly esteemed by a small but discriminating group of readers. He spoke with extreme slowness; his choice of epithets was admirable. What he said was not only fair and true, it was the object itself miraculously transformed into words. When he talked to me about the writers we were going to meet, I was impressed by his seriousness, the minuteness of his character analyses and his constant references to the English poets. I had a feeling that I was simultaneously meeting a character from Proust and a hero from Dickens. I did not and could not foresee that this eloquent stranger was to become one of my most intimate and dearest friends.
We were met on the station platform in Pontigny by Desjardins and Gide. The Master of the Abbey looked like Tolstoy. The same unkempt beard, the same prominent cheek-bones, the same faun-like look of genius. Though ceremonious and often meek, he was disconcerting because of his tone of raillery. Gide, on the contrary, was reassuring. Wrapped in a great mountaineer's cape, with his samurai's face framed by a wide-brimmed, grey felt sombrero, he made a startling first impression but quickly charmed one by the youthfulness of his spirit and by the immediate interest he took in new people. In this assembly, seething with talent, where I knew no one, I had feared I should be an outsider, but I quickly made friends. The rule of the house was monastic. We had our meals together beneath the Gothic vault of the old refectory of the monks and Madame Paul Desjardins, stepdaughter of Gaston Paris, presided at them with calm dignity and seated the guests herself. She put me beside her daughter Anne, a wild young creature with black hair, lively, ardent and bursting with eagerness and intelligence. A whole group of youngsters, pupils of Monsieur Desjardins, surrounded Anne who, as daughter of the house, had great prestige at Pontigny and judged us all with mischievous finality. She and I got on well together from the start.
The daily programme was simple. The morning was free and it was spent by some of us in walks to Auxerre, Beaune, Vezelay or along the river; by others in the library of the Abbey which Monsieur Desjardins, with feigned modesty, called `the village library' and which was astounding in the quality of the editions and the selection of the books. After lunch we sat beneath the arbour and the discussion began. Each day brought its own drama, for there was an immediate clash between the

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE Bos had already published fine studies of Baudelaire, Merimee and Proust which were very highly esteemed by a small but discriminating group of readers. He spoke with extreme slowness; his choice of epithets was admirable. What he said was not only fair and true, it was what is object itself miraculously transformed into words. When he talked to me about what is writers we were going to meet, I was impressed by his seriousness, what is minuteness of his character analyses and his constant references to what is English poets. I had a feeling that I was simultaneously meeting a character from Proust and a hero from Dickens. I did not and could not foresee that this eloquent stranger was to become one of my most intimate and dearest friends. We were met on what is station platform in Pontigny by Desjardins and Gide. what is Master of what is Abbey looked like Tolstoy. what is same unkempt beard, what is same prominent cheek-bones, what is same faun-like look of genius. Though ceremonious and often meek, he was disconcerting because of his tone of raillery. Gide, on what is contrary, was reassuring. Wrapped in a great mountaineer's cape, with his samurai's face framed by a wide-brimmed, grey felt sombrero, he made a startling first impression but quickly charmed one by what is youthfulness of his spirit and by what is immediate interest he took in new people. In this assembly, seething with talent, where I knew no one, I had feared I should be an outsider, but I quickly made friends. what is rule of what is house was monastic. We had our meals together beneath what is Gothic vault of what is old refectory of what is monks and Madame Paul Desjardins, stepdaughter of Gaston Paris, presided at them with calm dignity and seated what is guests herself. She put me beside her daughter Anne, a wild young creature with black hair, lively, ardent and bursting with eagerness and intelligence. A whole group of youngsters, pupils of Monsieur Desjardins, surrounded Anne who, as daughter of what is house, had great prestige at Pontigny and judged us all with mischievous finality. She and I got on well together from what is start. what is daily programme was simple. what is morning was free and it was spent by some of us in walks to Auxerre, Beaune, Vezelay or along what is river; by others in what is library of what is Abbey which Monsieur Desjardins, with feigned modesty, called `the village library' and which was astounding in what is quality of what is editions and what is selection of what is books. After lunch we sat beneath what is arbour and what is discussion began. Each day brought its own drama, for there was an immediate clash between what is where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Call No Man Happy (1943) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 133 where is p align="center" where is strong HOME-COMING where is p align="justify" Bos had already published fine studies of Baudelaire, Merimee and Proust which were very highly esteemed by a small but discriminating group of readers. He spoke with extreme slowness; his choice of epithets was admirable. What he said was not only fair and true, it was what is object itself miraculously transformed into words. When he talked to me about what is writers we were going to meet, I was impressed by his seriousness, what is minuteness of his character analyses and his constant references to what is English poets. I had a feeling that I was simultaneously meeting a character from Proust and a hero from Dickens. I did not and could not foresee that this eloquent stranger was to become one of my most intimate and dearest friends. We were met on what is station platform in Pontigny by Desjardins and Gide. what is Master of what is Abbey looked like Tolstoy. what is same unkempt beard, what is same prominent cheek-bones, what is same faun-like look of genius. Though ceremonious and often meek, he was disconcerting because of his tone of raillery. Gide, on what is contrary, was reassuring. Wrapped in a great mountaineer's cape, with his samurai's face framed by a wide-brimmed, grey felt sombrero, he made a startling first impression but quickly charmed one by what is youthfulness of his spirit and by what is immediate interest he took in new people. In this assembly, seething with talent, where I knew no one, I had feared I should be an outsider, but I quickly made friends. what is rule of what is house was monastic. We had our meals together beneath what is Gothic vault of what is old refectory of what is monks and Madame Paul Desjardins, stepdaughter of Gaston Paris, presided at them with calm dignity and seated what is guests herself. She put me beside her daughter Anne, a wild young creature with black hair, lively, ardent and bursting with eagerness and intelligence. A whole group of youngsters, pupils of Monsieur Desjardins, surrounded Anne who, as daughter of what is house, had great prestige at Pontigny and judged us all with mischievous finality. She and I got on well together from what is start. what is daily programme was simple. what is morning was free and it was spent by some of us in walks to Auxerre, Beaune, Vezelay or along what is river; by others in what is library of what is Abbey which Monsieur Desjardins, with feigned modesty, called `the village library' and which was astounding in what is quality of what is editions and the selection of what is books. After lunch we sat beneath what is arbour and what is discussion began. Each day brought its own drama, for there was an immediate clash between what is where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Call No Man Happy (1943) books

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