[90903] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
Find Someone Special in Your Area on eHarmony
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (eHarmonyPartner)
Sat Oct 29 06:50:31 2016
Date: Sat, 29 Oct 2016 06:48:07 -0400
To: mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu
From: eHarmonyPartner <eharmonypartner@blackdat.top>
Reply-to: eHarmonyPartner <eharmonypartner@blackdat.top>
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him. Then herocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. Andthen at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he 8jms
swung his head and vx8jms began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. x8jms He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms
with slight, intense movements, as jms the delicate music jms poured out. It 6fp4vx8ms fp4vx8js was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid
and delicate. 8jms The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity 4vx8jms vx8jms of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense,
exasperatedto the point of intolerable jms anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played thefinely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it,
in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent fp4vx8js appeared 4vx8jms in the room. She fidgetted at the
sink. The music was 8jms a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets.
She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are 6fp4vx8ms jms you going out?” She twisted nervously.
“What do you want to know for?” He made jms no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then jms over it again — then 8jms more closely over it 8jms again.
“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were x8jms angry under knitted brows. “What are 6fp4vx8ms 8jms you bothering about?” he fp4vx8js said.
“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I 4vx8jms expect I am,” he said quietly.
She recovered at x8jms once, but still fp4vx8js with 8jms timidity asked: “We haven’t got any 8jms candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother
isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling 6fp4vx8ms his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy x8jms us 6fp4vx8ms 6fp4vx8ms some, Father? Shall jms you?”
“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo x8jms to his mouth and blowing a few 6fp4vx8ms piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles x8jms — blue jms ones and red
ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL vx8jms you?” she insisted 8jms desperately. She 8jms wisely mistrusted his vagueness.
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, vx8jms shrill, brilliant. He 4vx8jms was playing Mozart. The child’s
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went 8jms out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music fp4vx8js seemed to
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man 8jms went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. 4vx8jms In the frosty evening the 4vx8jms sound carried.
people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and 6fp4vx8ms .
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<p align="right" style="font: 11px;">him. Then he<B>rocked his eye over the sheet of music spread out on the table before him. He tried his flute. And</B>then at last, with the odd gesture of a diver taking a plunge, he aupq </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 7px;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 15px;">
swung his head and lcaupq began to play. A stream of music, soft and rich and fluid, came out of the flute. caupq He played beautifully. He moved his head and his raised bare arms </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"></span>
<p align="right">with slight, intense movements, as upq the delicate music upq poured out. It s51ilcapq 51ilcauq was sixteenth-century Christmas melody, very limpid </p>
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<p></p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right">and delicate. aupq The pure, mindless, exquisite motion and fluidity ilcaupq lcaupq of the music delighted him with a strange exasperation. There was something tense, </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial;"></span>
<p align="right">
exasperated<i>to the point of intolerable upq anger, in his good-humored rest, as he played the</i>finely-spun peace-music. The more exquisite the music, the more perfectly he produced it, </p>
<BR />
<p align="right" style="font: 12px;">
in sheer bliss; and at the same time, the more intense was the maddened exasperation within him. Millicent 51ilcauq appeared ilcaupq in the room. She fidgetted at the </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial;"></span>
<p>
sink. The music was aupq a bugbear to her, because it prevented her from saying what was on her own mind. At length it ended, her father was turning over the various books and sheets. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 13px;"></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial;"></span>
<p align="right">
She looked at him quickly, seizing her opportunity. “Are you going out, Father?” she said. “Eh?” “Are s51ilcapq upq you going out?” She twisted nervously. </p>
<BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 9px;"></p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 8px;"></span>
<p align="right">“What do you want to know for?” He made upq no other answer, and turned again to the music. His eye went down a sheet — then upq over it again — then aupq more closely over it aupq again. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left"></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial;"></span>
<p align="left" style="font: 12px;">“Are you?” persisted the child, balancing on one foot. He looked at her, and his eyes were caupq angry under knitted brows. “What are s51ilcapq aupq you bothering about?” he 51ilcauq said. </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 9px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="center"></p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 10px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p>“I’m not bothering — I only wanted to know if you were going out,” she pouted, quivering to cry. “I ilcaupq expect I am,” he said quietly. </p>
<BR />
<p>
She recovered at caupq once, but still 51ilcauq with aupq timidity asked: “We haven’t got any aupq candles for the Christmas tree — shall you buy some, because mother </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 11px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="left"></p>
<BR />
<p align="center" style="font: 10px;">isn’t going out?” “Candles!” he repeated, settling s51ilcapq his music and taking up the piccolo. “Yes — shall you buy caupq us s51ilcapq s51ilcapq some, Father? Shall upq you?” </p>
<BR />
<p></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 8px;"></span>
<p align="center">“Candles!” he repeated, putting the piccolo caupq to his mouth and blowing a few s51ilcapq piercing, preparatory notes. “Yes, little Christmas-tree candles caupq — blue upq ones and red </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="center"></p>
<BR />
<p align="right" style="font: 11px;">ones, in boxes — Shall you, Father?” “We’ll see — if I see any —” “But SHALL lcaupq you?” she insisted aupq desperately. She aupq wisely mistrusted his vagueness. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right">
But he was looking unheeding at the music. Then suddenly the piccolo broke forth, wild, lcaupq shrill, brilliant. He ilcaupq was playing Mozart. The child’s </p>
<BR />
<p>
face went pale with anger at the sound. She turned, and went aupq out, closing both doors behind her to shut out the noise. The shrill, rapid movement of the piccolo music 51ilcauq seemed to </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left">
possess the air, it was useless to try to shut it out. The man aupq went on playing to himself, measured and insistent. ilcaupq In the frosty evening the ilcaupq sound carried. </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, Courier New, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 7px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="left" style="font: 11px;">
people phiing down the street hesitated, listening. The neighbours knew it was Aaron practising his piccolo. He was esteemed a good player: was in request at concerts and s51ilcapq .</p>
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