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Really, when I think it over, literature has only one excuse for existing; it saves the person who makes it from the disgustingness of life." "And, charitably, it lessens the distress of us soniya nude fuck few who still love art." "Few indeed!" "And the number keeps diminishing. The new generation no longer interests itself in anything except gambling and jockeys." "Yes, you're quite right.

The men can't spare from gambling the time to read, so it is only the society women who buy books and pass judgment on them. It is to soniya nude fuck The Lady, as Schopenhauer called her, to the little goose, as I should characterize her, that we are indebted for these shoals of lukewarm and mucilaginous novels which nowadays get puffed." "You think, then, that we are in for a pretty literature. Naturally you can't please women by enunciating vigorous ideas in a crisp style." "But," Durtal went on, after a silence, "it is perhaps best that the case should be as it is. The rare artists who remain have no business to be thinking about the public.

The artist lives and works far from the drawing-room, far from the clamour of the little fellows who fix up the custom-made literature. The only legitimate source of vexation to an author is to see his work, when printed, soniya nude fuck exposed to the contaminating curiosity of the crowd." "That is," said Des Hermies, "a veritable prostitution. To advertise a thing for nude pics of porn stars getting fucked and moneing sale is to accept the degrading familiarities of the first comer." "But our impenitent pride--and also our need of the miserable sous--make it impossible for us to keep our manuscripts sheltered from the asses. Art ought to be--like one's beloved--out of reach, out of the world. Art and prayer are the only decent ejaculations soniya nude fuck of the soul. So when one of my books appears, I let go of it with horror.

I get as far as possible from the environment in which it may be supposed to circulate. I care very little about a book of mine soniya nude fuck until years afterward, when it has disappeared from all the shop windows and is out of print. Briefly, I am in no hurry to finish amature nude wives caught fucking at work michigan the history of Gilles de Rais, which, unfortunately, is getting finished in spite of me. I don't give a damn how it is received." "Are you doing anything this evening?" "No. Why?" "Shall we dine together?" "Certainly." And while Durtal was putting on his shoes, Des Hermies remarked, "To me soniya nude fuck the striking thing about the so-called literary world of this epoch is its cheap hypocrisy. What a lot of laziness, for instance, that word dilettante has served to cover." "Yes, it's a great old alibi.

But it is confounding to see that the critic who today decrees himself the title of dilettante accepts it as a term of praise and does not even suspect that he is slapping himself. The whole thing can be resolved into syllogism: "The dilettante has no personal temperament, since he objects to nothing and likes everything. "Whoever has no personal temperament has no talent." "Then," rejoined Des Hermies, putting on his hat, "an author who boasts of being a dilettante, confesses by that very thing that he is no author?" "Exactly." CHAPTER XVII Toward the end of the afternoon Durtal quit work and went up to the towers of Saint Sulpice. He found Carhaix in bed in a chamber connecting with the one in which they were in the habit of dining. These rooms soniya nude fuck were very similar, with their walls or unpapered stone, and with their vaulted ceilings, only, the bedroom was darker. The window opened its half-wheel not on the place Saint Sulpice but on rani mukargi nude fuck the rear of the church, whose roof prevented any light from getting amisha patel nude fucked naked sexy photos in. This cell was furnished with an iron bed, whose springs shrieked, with two cane chairs, and with a table that had a shabby covering of green baize.

On the bare wall was a crucifix of no value, with a dry palm over it.

Carhaix was sitting up in bed reading, with books and papers piled all around him. His eyes were more watery and his face paler than usual. His beard, which had not been shaved for several days, grew in grey clumps on his hollow cheeks, but his poor features were radiant with an affectionate, affable smile.

Des Hermies gives me permission to get up tomorrow. But what a frightful medicine!" and he showed Durtal a potion of which he had to take a teaspoonful every hour. "What is it he's making you take?" But the bell-ringer did not know. Doubtless to spare him the expense, Des Hermies himself always brought the bottle. I am obliged to entrust my bells to an assistant who is no good. It makes me shudder, it sets my teeth on edge." "Now you mustn't work yourself up," said his wife. "In two days you will be able to ring your bells yourself." But he went on complaining. They're like domestic animals, those instruments, and they obey only their master.