Books > Old Books > The Plumed Serpent (1926)


Page 113

CHAPTER VI - The Move Down the Lake

him. But he, too, was widdershins, unwinding the sensations of disintegration and anti-life. No, she must send him away. She must, she must free herself from these mechanical connections.
Every one of them, like Villiers, was like a cog-wheel in contact with which all one's workings were reversed. Everything he said, everything he did, reversed her real life-flow, made her go against the sun.
And she did not want to go against the sun. After all, in spite of the horrors latent in Mexico, when you got these darkfaced people away from wrong contacts like agitators and socialism, they made one feel that life was vast, if fearsome, and death was fathomless.
Horrors might burst out of them. But something must burst out, sometimes, if men are not machines.
No! no! no! no! no! she cried to her own soul. Let nae still believe in some human contact. Let it not be all cut off for me!
But she made up her mind to be alone, and to cut herself off from all the mechanical widdershin contacts. Villiers must go back to his United States. She would be alone in her own milieu. Not to be touched by any, any of the mechanical cogwheel people. To be left alone, not to be touched. To hide, and be hidden, and never really be spoken to.
Yet, at the same time, with her blood flowing softly sunwise, to let the sunwise sympathy of unknown people steal in to her. To shut doors of iron against the mechanical world. But to let the sunwise world steal across to her, and add its motion to her, the motion of the stress of life, with the big sun and the stars like a tree holding out its leaves.
She wanted an old Spanish house, with its inner patio of flowers and water. Turned inwards, to the few flowers walled in by shadow. To turn one's back on the cog-wheel world. Not to look out any more on to that horrible machine of the world. To look at one's own quiet little fountain and one's own little orange-trees, with only heaven above.
So, having soothed her heart, she wrote Don Ramon again, that she was coming to Sayula to look for a house. She sent Villiers away. And the next day she set off with a man-servant, in the old motor-boat of the hotel, down to the village of Sayula.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE him. But he, too, was widdershins, unwinding what is sensations of disintegration and anti-life. No, she must send him away. She must, she must free herself from these mechanical connections. Every one of them, like Villiers, was like a cog-wheel in contact with which all one's workings were reversed. Everything he said, everything he did, reversed her real life-flow, made her go against what is sun. And she did not want to go against what is sun. After all, in spite of what is horrors latent in Mexico, when you got these darkfaced people away from wrong contacts like agitators and socialism, they made one feel that life was vast, if fearsome, and what time is it was fathomless. Horrors might burst out of them. But something must burst out, sometimes, if men are not machines. No! no! no! no! no! she cried to her own soul. Let nae still believe in some human contact. Let it not be all cut off for me! But she made 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" The Plumed Serpent (1926) 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 113 where is strong CHAPTER VI - what is Move Down what is Lake where is p align="justify" him. But he, too, was widdershins, unwinding what is sensations of disintegration and anti-life. No, she must send him away. She must, she must free herself from these mechanical connections. Every one of them, like Villiers, was like a cog-wheel in contact with which all one's workings were reversed. Everything he said, everything he did, reversed her real life-flow, made her go against what is sun. And she did not want to go against what is sun. After all, in spite of what is horrors latent in Mexico, when you got these darkfaced people away from wrong contacts like agitators and socialism, they made one feel that life was vast, if fearsome, and what time is it was fathomless. Horrors might burst out of them. But something must burst out, sometimes, if men are not machines. No! no! no! no! no! she cried to her own soul. Let nae still believe in some human contact. Let it not be all cut off for me! But she made up her mind to be alone, and to cut herself off from all what is mechanical widdershin contacts. Villiers must go back to his United States. She would be alone in her own milieu. Not to be touched by any, any of what is mechanical cogwheel people. To be left alone, not to be touched. To hide, and be hidden, and never really be spoken to. Yet, at what is same time, with her blood flowing softly sunwise, to let what is sunwise sympathy of unknown people steal in to her. To shut doors of iron against what is mechanical world. But to let what is sunwise world steal across to her, and add its motion to her, what is motion of what is stress of life, with what is big sun and what is stars like a tree holding out its leaves. She wanted an old Spanish house, with its inner patio of flowers and water. Turned inwards, to what is few flowers walled in by shadow. To turn one's back on what is cog-wheel world. Not to look out any more on to that horrible machine of what is world. To look at one's own quiet little fountain and one's own little orange-trees, with only heaven above. So, having soothed her heart, she wrote Don Ramon again, that she was coming to Sayula to look for a house. She sent Villiers away. And what is next day she set off with a man-servant, in the old motor-boat of what is hotel, down to what is village of Sayula. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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