Thus, Madam, in my Garret-Closet, my Muse again took Possession of me: Poetry being one of those subtle Devils, that if driven out by never so many firm Purposes, good Resolutions, Aversion to that Poverty it intails upon its Adherents; yet it will always return and find a Passage to the Heart, Brain, and whole Interior; as I experienced in this my exalted Study: Or, to (use the Phrase of the Poets) my Closet in the Star-Chamber; or the Den of Parnassus business center.

 
Out of this Garret, there was a Door went out to the Leads; on which I us'd frequently to walk to take the Air, or rather the Smoke; for Air, abstracted from Smoke, is not to be had within Five Miles of London. Here it was that I wish'd sometimes to be of Don Quixote's Sentiments, that I might take the Tops of Chimneys, for Bodies of Trees; and the rising Smoke for Branches; the Gutters of Houses, for Tarras-Walks; and the Roofs for stupendous Rocks and Mountains. However, though I could not beguile my Fancy thus, yet here I was alone, or, as the Philosopher says, never less alone financial assistance .

Here I entertain'd my Thoughts, and indulg'd my solitary Fancy. Here I could behold the Parliament-House, Westminster-Hall, and the Abbey, and admir'd the Magnificence of their Structure, and still more, the Greatness of Mind in those who had been their Founders; one Place for the establishing good Laws; another for putting them in Practice; the Third for the immediate Glory of God; a Place for the continual singing his Praise, for all the Blessings bestow'd on Mankind. But with what Amazement did I reflect, how Mankind had perverted the Use of those Places design'd for a general Benefit: and having been reading the Reign of King Charles the First, I was amaz'd, to think how those Law-Makers cou'd become such Law-Confounders, as the History relates work visa hong kong. Was it Ambition, Pride or Avarice?

For what other wicked Spirit entred amongst them, we know not; but something infernal sure it was, that push'd or persuaded them to bring so barbarous an Enterprize to so sad a Conclusion. Ambition sure it cou'd not be, for every one cou'd not be King, nor indeed cou'd any one reasonably hope it. Neither cou'd it be Pride, because in this Action they work'd their own Disgrace. It must certainly therefore be Covetousness; for they hop'd to inrich themselves by the Ruins of the Church and State, as I have heard; though the Riches were of small Durance. These kind of Thoughts entertained me; some of which, I believe, are in Writing, amongst my other Geer.Upon Covetousness.

Covetousness we may truly call, The Dropsie of the Mind, it being an insatiable Thirst of Gain: The more we get, the more we desire, and the more we have, the less willing are we to part with any. It was a wise Remark of him that said, A Poor Man wants Many things, but the Covetous Man wants All things; for a covetous Man will want Necessaries, rather than ; and unless we do part with it, it is of no use to us; since we can't eat, drink, or warm ourselves by it: And, as of itself it can neither feed, warm, nor cloath us, so neither can it make us Ploughshares, Pruning-hooks, Weapons of Defence, or other Utensils worthy the Value we set upon it. Yet this shining Earth commands this Lower-Orb, and for it we often sell our Friends, King, Country, Laws, and even our eternal Happiness. Thus Avarice brings many to that Region where the Coveting of Thirty Pieces of Silver brought the most abominable of all Traitors.

I should not have left her, but . . Yes, I know. I begged you to come, myself. But now go.I will, but of course I don’t believe a word of it.Because it’s all so different from other people. Remember her story, think it all overand you will believe, it. She has not grown up as you and I did.I got home late, however. Alexandra Semyonovna told me that again Nellie had, as on the previous evening, been crying a great deal and had fallen asleep in tears , as before.

And now I’m going, Ivan Petrovitch, as Filip Filippovitch told me. He’s expecting me, poor fellow.I thanked her and sat down by Nellie’s pillow. It seemed dreadful to me myself that I could have left her at such a moment. For a long time, right into the night, I sat beside her, lost in thought. . . . It was a momentous time for us all.

But I must describe what had been happening during that fortnight.AFTER the memorable evening I had spent with Prince Valkovsky at the restaurant, I was for some days in continual apprehension on Natasha’s account. With what evil was that cursed prince threatening her, and in what way did he mean to revenge himself on her, I asked myself every minute, and I was distracted by suppositions of all sorts. I came at last to the conclusion that his menaces were not empty talk, not mere bluster, and that as long as she was living with Alyosha, the prince might really bring about much unpleasantness for her. He was petty, vindictive, malicious, and calculating, I reflected. It would be difficult for him to forget an insult and to let pass any chance of avenging it. He had in any case brought out one point, and had expressed himself pretty clearly on that point: he insisted absolutely on Alyosha’s breaking off his connexion with Natasha, and was expecting me to prepare her for the approaching separation, and so to prepare her that there should be no scenes, no idyllic nonsense, no Schillerism car rental .

Of course, what he was most solicitous for was that Alyosha should remain on good terms with him, and should still consider him an affectionate father. This was very necessary to enable him the more conveniently to get control of Katya’s money. And so it was my task to prepare Natasha for the approaching separation. But I noticed a great change in Natasha; there was not a trace now of her old frankness with me; in fact, she seemed to have become actually mistrustful of me. My efforts to console her only worried her; my questions annoyed her more and more, and even vexed her. I would sit beside her sometimes, watching her . She would pace from one corner of the room to the other with her arms folded, pale and gloomy, as though oblivious of everything, even forgetting that I was there beside her. When she Happened to look at me (and she even avoided my eves), there was a gleam of impatient vexation in her face, and she turned away quickly. I realized that she was perhaps herself revolving some plan of her own for the approaching separation, and how could she think of it without pain and bitterness? And I was convinced that she had already made up her mind to the separation. Yet I was worried and alarmed by her gloomy despair. Moreover sometimes I did not dare to talk to her or try to comfort her, and so waited with terror for the end.

As for her harsh and forbidding manner with me, though that worried me and made me uneasy, yet I had faith in my Natasha’s heart. I saw that she was terribly wretched and that she  . Any outside interference only excited vexation and annoyance. In such cases, especially, the intervention of friends who know one’s secrets is more annoying than anything. But I very well knew, too, that at the last minute Natasha would come back to me, and would seek comfort in my affection.

 
Alyosha sat crushed with grief and gazed scarcely comprehending.Yes, yes, don’t stop me. I have sworn to speak out, Natasha went on, irritated. Remember, Alyosha was not obeying you. For six whole months you had been doing your utmost to draw him away from me. He . And at last the time came when you could not afford to lose a moment　hong thai travel.

If you let it pass, the heiress, the money — above all the money, the three millions of dowry — would slip through your fingers. Only one course was left you, to make Alyosha love the girl you destined for him; you thought that if he fell in love with her he would abandon me.Natasha! Natasha! Alyosha cried in distress, what are you saying?And you have acted accordingly, she went on, not heeding Alyosha’s exclamation, but — it was the same old story again!

Everything might have gone well, but I was in the way again. There was only one thing to give you hope. A man of your cunning and experience could not help seeing even then that Alyosha seemed at times weary of his old attachment. You could not fail to notice that he was beginning to neglect me, to be bored, to stay away for five days at a time. You thought he might get tired of it altogether and give me up, when suddenly on Tuesday Alyosha’s decided action came as a shock to you. What were you to do!

Excuse me, cried Prince Valkovsky, on the contrary, that fact . . .I say, Natasha went on emphatically, you asked yourself that evening what you were to do, and resolved to sanction his marrying me not in reality but only in words, simply to soothe him. The date of the wedding could be deferred, you thought, indefinitely, and meanwhile the new feeling was growing; you saw that. And on the growth of this new love you rested all your hopes.

Novels, novels, the prince pronounced, in an undertone, as though speaking to himself, solitude, brooding, and novel-reading.Yes, on this new love you rested every　hong thai travelthing, Natasha repeated, without listening or attending to his words, more and more carried away in a fever of excitement. And the chances in favour of this new love! It

had begun before he knew all the girl’s perfections. At the very moment when he disclosed to her that evening that he could not love her, that duty and another love forbade it — the girl suddenly displayed

such nobility of character, such sympathy for him and for her rival, such spontaneous forgiveness, that though he had believed in her beauty, he only realized then how splendid she was. When he came to me he

talked of nothing but her, she had made such an impression upon him. Yes, he was bound next day to feel an irresistible impulse to see this noble being again, if only from gratitude. And, indeed, why shouldn

’t he go to her? His old love was not in 　hong thai traveldistress now, her future was secured, his whole life was to be given up to her, while the other would have only a minute. And how ungrateful Natasha would be if she

were jealous even of that minute. And so without noticing it he robs his Natasha not of a minute, but of one day, two days, three. . . . And meantime, in those three days, the girl shows herself to him in a

new and quite unexpected light. She is so noble, so enthusiastic, and at the same time such a naive child, and in fact so like himself in character. They vow eternal friendship and brotherhood, they wish

never to be parted. In five or six hours of conversation his soul is opened to new sensations and his whole heart is won. The time will come at last, you reckon, when he will compare his old feeling with his

new, fresh sensations. There everything is familiar and the same as usual; there it’s all serious and exacting; there he finds jealousy and reproaches; there he finds tears. . . . Or if there is lightness

and playfulness, he is treated liked a child not an equal . . . But worst of all, its all familiar, the same as ever . . . .

We heard the deep note of the bell ringing for vespers. She started. Anna Andreyevna crossed herself.
“You’re ready for church, Natasha, and they’re ringing for the service. Go, Natasha, go and pray. It’s a good thing it’s so near. And you’ll get a walk, too, at the same time. Why sit shut up indoors?

See how pale you are, as though you were bewitched.”
“Perhaps . . . I won’t go . . . today,” said Natasha slowly, in a low voice, almost a whisper. “I’m . . . not well,” she added, and turned white as a sheet.
“You’d better go, Natasha baidu seo. You wanted to just now and fetched your hat. Pray, Natasha, pray that God may give you good health,” Anna Andreyevna persuaded her daughter, looking timidly at her, as though

she were afraid of her.
“Yes, go, and it will be a walk for you, too,” the old man added, and he, too, looked uneasily at his daughter. “Mother is right. Here, Vanya will escort you.”
I fancied that Natasha’s lips curled in a bitter smile. She went to the piano, picked up her hat and put it on. Her hands were trembling. All her movements seemed as it were unconscious, as though she did

not know what she were doing. Her father and mother watched her attentively.
“Good-bye,” she said, hardly audibly.
“My angel, why ‘good-bye’? Is it so faraway? A blow in the wind will do you good. See how pale you are. Ah, I forgot (I forget everything), I’ve finished a scapular for you; there’s a prayer sewn into

it, my angel; a nun from Kiev taught it to me last year; a very suitable prayer. I sewed it in just now. Put it on, Natasha. Maybe God will send you good health. You are all we have.”
And the mother took out of her work-drawer a golden cross that Natasha wore round her neck; on the same ribbon was hung a scapular she had just finished.
“May it bring you health,” she added , crossing her daughter and putting the cross on . “At one time I used to bless you every night before you slept, and said a prayer, and you repeated it after me. But

now you’re not the same, and God does not vouchsafe you a quiet spirit. Ach, Natasha, Natasha! Your mother’s prayer is no help to you . . . .”
And the mother began crying.
Natasha kissed her mother’s hand without speaking, and took a step towards the door. But suddenly she turned quickly back and went up to her father. Her bosom heaved.
“Daddy, you cross . . . your daughter, too,” she brought out in a gasping voice, and she sank on her knees before him.
We were all perplexed at this action. For a few seconds her father looked at her quite at a loss.
“Natasha, my little one, my girl, my darling, what’s the matter with you?” he cried at last, and tears streamed from his eyes. “Why are you grieving? Why are you crying day and night? I see it all, you

know. I don’t sleep, it night, but stand and listen at your door. Tell me everything, Natasha, tell me all about it. I’m old, and we . . .”
He did not finish; he raised her and embraced her, and held her close. She pressed convulsively against his breast, and hid her head on his shoulder.
“It’s nothing, nothing, it’s only . . . I’m not well”, she kept repeating, choking with suppressed tears.
“May God bless you as I bless you, my darling child, my precious child!” said the father. “May He send you peace of heart for ever, and protect you from all sorrow. Pray to God, my love, that my sinful

prayer may reach Him.”
“And my blessing, my blessing, too, is upon you,” added the mother, dissolving into tears.
“Good-bye,” whispered Natasha.
At the door she stood still again, took one more look at them, tried to say something more, but could not and went quickly out of the room. I rushed after her with a foreboding of evil.
Part 1 Chapter 8

SHE walked with her head down, rapidly, in silence, without looking at me. But as she came out of the street on to the embankment she stopped short, and took my arm.
“I’m stifling,” she whispered. “My heart grips me. . . . I’m stifling.”
“Come back, Natasha,” I cried in alarm.
“Surely you must have seen, Vanya, that I’ve gone away for ever, left them for ever, and shall never go back,” she said, looking at me with inexpressible anguish.
My heart sank. I had foreseen all this on my way to them. I had seen it all as it were in a mist, long before that day perhaps, yet now her words fell upon me like a thunderbolt.
We walked miserably along the embankment. I could not speak. I was reflecting, trying to think, and utterly at a loss. My heart was in a whirl. It seemed so hideous, so impossible!
“You blame me, Vanya?” she said at last.

The idea of  mother's bottom increased my ardour, I felt actually stronger than ever, and should have liked to get in balls and all; her buttocks were pushed out to facilitate my efforts, and getting past that muscular obstruction, my cock glided in to the roots of my sprouting hair; what a luscious feeling that was; Mary was handling my balls most lovingly, as she feared they might be lost inside, and I could feel her kissing my rump.

"Now it's all in. Fuck me well, Percy, my love! don't forget it's your own mother who gives all to her dear boy　. Make it last as long as possible. Frig my cunt, Mary—put in two fingers. Now go on, but not too fast at first—gentle strokes bring the greatest pleasure, till at length we go crescendo. Oh, you do it so nicely, my love, my own boy! Isn't he a darling, Mary? He shall fuck you, my love, as often as he likes; only I must have my boy when I want him.">
"Darling Mamma—my own mother. Do I do it nicely?" as my cock pushed slowly and gently in and out of that delicious bottom, which closed so tightly on my enraptured tool, feeling as hot as a fresh poultice; the grip on the sphincter muscle and the heat inside combining to produce the most voluptuous sensations.

I got beside myself with the erotic intensity of pleasure, and soon began a rather furious pushing; each drive increased my ardour, making her wriggle and squirm her buttocks about so that had I not got a firm grasp with my hands I should have lost my position. Mary's fingers frigged her rapidly as well, and she managed with her other hand to caress my testicles, and every now and then grasped the root of my prick, drawing back the skin of the foreskin, so that each plunge gave me the most intense delight, the head and shoulders of my prick being so well bared, I felt the contraction of her anus in the most exquisite degree.

My priapism was too violent for me to spend quickly　 , so this was a most delicious drawn out bottom-fuck, which seemed never ending to me, and I could feel dear Mary's fingers well up her cunt, as only the thin membrane was between them and my burning tool.

Sometimes she withdrew her fingers, all dripping with my mother's copious emissions, and tried to insert them by the side of my prick in the maternal arse-hole, but only succeeded in getting one up alongside of Mr. Pego; this was a lovely idea and tended even more to excite me.

"Spend, mother darling. Shove your bottom out to meet every poke I give you, I shall come soon now!" I almost shouted in my savage delight. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!—Ah, this is Fucking. It's come! Don't you feel it shoot up you, dearest mother? Oh, oh, I'm done now!" as I fell exhausted and rolled by her side on the bed.

She drew my face to hers between her two hands—laughing, sobbing, and crying from the excess of her feelings. "My boy, my own Percy, how you did fuck me, you dear," smothering me with a profusion of the most loving hot kisses, whilst Mary　service apartment in hong kong, also carried away by the scene in which she had participated, took possession of my still stiff machine and sucked it till she had extracted every drop that still oozed from it.