Fontaine Quotes

Rare as is true love, true friendship is rarer.

A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.

Everyone calls himself a friend, but only a fool relies on it: nothing is commoner than the name, nothing rarer than the thing.

Sadness flies away on the wings of time.

Everyone believes very easily whatever he fears or desires.

Scarlett, always save something to fear—even as you save something to love.

Beware, so long as you live, of judging men by their outward appearance.

Nothing weighs on us so heavily as a secret.

Patience and time do more than force and rage.

Friendship is the shadow of the evening, which increases with the setting sun of life.

Death never takes the wise man by surprise; He is always ready to go.

To hell with pleasure that's haunted by fear.

On rencontre sa destinée, souvent par de chemins qu'on prend pour l'éviter. LA FONTAINE

Nothing is as dangerous as an ignorant friend; a wise enemy is to be preferred.

Often we find our own destiny on the same roads that we have been avoiding.

For the eternity that Lux Lisbon looked at him, Trip Fontaine looked back, and the love he felt at that moment, truer than all subsequent loves because it never had to survive real life, still plagued him, even now in the desert, with his looks and health wasted. 'You never know what'll set the memory off,' he told us. 'A baby's face. A bell on a cat's collar. Anything.' They didn't exchange a single word. But in the weeks that followed, Trip spent his days wandering the halls, hoping for Lux to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen.

Never sell the bear's skin before one has killed the beast.

Rien ne sert de courir il faut partir à point

Je ressemble à un personnage de Bretécher: une fille assise sur un banc avec une pancarte autour du cou : "je veux de l'amour" et des larmes qui jaillissent comme deux fontaines de chaque côté des yeux. Je m'y vois.

Apprenez que tout flatteur Vit aux dépens de celui qui l'écoute : Cette leçon vaut bien un fromage, sans doute. Flatterers thrive on fools' credulity. The lesson's worth a cheese, don't you agree?

There's nothing sweeter than a real friend: Not only is he prompt to lend— An angler delicate, he fishes The very deepest of your wishes, And spares your modesty the task His friendly aid to ask. A dream, a shadow, wakes his fear, When pointing at the object dear.

Avec l'amour maternel, la vie vous fait, à l'aube, une promesse qu'elle ne tient jamais. Chaque fois qu'une femme vous prend dans ses bras et vous serre sur son coeur, ce ne sont plus que des condoléances. On revient toujours gueuler sur la tombe de sa mère comme un chien abandonné. Jamais plus, jamais plus, jamais plus. Des bras adorables se referment autour de votre cou et des lèvres très douces vous parlent d'amour, mais vous êtes au courant. Vous êtes passé à la source très tôt et vous avez tout bu. Lorsque la soif vous reprend, vous avez beau vous jeter de tous côtés, il n'y a plus de puits, il n'y a que des mirages. Vous avez fait, dès la première lueur de l'aube, une étude très serrée de l'amour et vous avez sur vous de la documentation. Je ne dis pas qu'il faille empêcher les mères d'aimer leurs petits. Je dis simplement qu'il vaut mieux que les mères aient encore quelqu'un d'autre à aimer. Si ma mère avait eu un amant, je n'aurais pas passé ma vie à mourir de soif auprès de chaque fontaine. Malheureusement pour moi, je me connais en vrais diamants.

Whatever you do, do something else.

Every newspaper editor owes tribute to the devil.

The best laid plot can injure its maker, and often a man's perfidy will rebound on himself.

In everything one must consider the end.

You're Ma's own blood son, but did she take on that time Tony Fontaine shot you in the leg? No, she just sent for old Doc Fontaine to dress it and asked the doctor what ailed Tony's aim. Said she guessed the licker was spoiling his marksmanship.

Caretaking is never about the other person. It's about wanting to feel needed because you're afraid you're not wanted.

People don’t read as much anymore. That’s why they’re so stupid.

And if we folks have a motto, it’s this: ‘Don’t holler — smile and bide your time.’ We’ve survived a passel of things that way, smiling and biding our time, and we’ve gotten to be experts at surviving.

Todos los cerebros del mundo son impotentes contra cualquier estupidez que esté de moda.

Habit,to which all of us are more or less slaves.

Beware, so long as you live, or judging men by their outwards appearance.

I don't believe that Nature's powers Have tied her hands or pinioned ours, By marking on the heavenly vault Our fate without mistake or fault. That fate depends on conjunctions Of places, persons, times, and tracks, And not on the functions Of more or less of quacks.

A menudo encontramos nuestro destino por los caminos que tomamos para evitarlo.

When she smiled, her mouth showed too many teeth, but at night Trip Fontaine dreamed of being bitten by each one.

Voyager, c'est, de même qu'étudier, faire un long bail avec la jeunesse. Il n'existe pas, je crois, de plus efficace fontaine de jouvence que ces deux choses: voyage et activité intellectuelle.

Perhaps you are making a cat's paw of me with Phillotson all this time. Upon my word it almost seems so--to see you sitting up there so prim.

God doesn't create suffering Claire, we do. We make the world and then we break it.

Travel empties out everything you’ve into the box called your life, all the things you accumulate to tell you who you are

A foolish friend may cause more woe Than could, indeed, the wisest foe.

Patience and time do more than strength or passion.

Throughout the act, headlights came on across the field, sweeping over them, lighting up the goal-post. Lux said, in the middle, "I always screw things up. I always do" and began to sob. Trip Fontaine told us a little more. We asked him if he put her in the cab but he said no. "I walked home that night. I didn;t care how she got home. I just took off." Then: "It's weird. I mean, I liked her I really liked her. I just got sick of her right then.

The rules of scientific investigation always require us, when we enter the domains of conjecture, to adopt that hypothesis by which the greatest number of known facts and phenomena may be reconciled.

Mia: I was sixteen when I first realized my mom was more concerned about my appearance than I was… I’ll be talking to my mom and realize she hasn’t heard a word because she’s studying my face to see if the foundation I’m using is a good match for my skin tone.

Quand l'abſurde eſt outré, on lui fait trop d'honneur De vouloir par raiſon, combattre ſon erreur: Enchérir eſt plus court, ſans s'échauffer la bile.

A woman’s relationship with herself is mirrored everywhere in her life, but no place more than with her daughter.

[Samantha Dunn] wrote that when God wants your attention, first He throws feathers. After that, He starts throwing bricks.

We carve our destinies blindfolded, with sharp knives.

Mayor Fontaine is awful and terrifying. But like the rest of us, he's human too.

If ever there was a boy in love, sweet pea, it's Joe Fontaine.

Well, Ms. Fontaine, you look damn good for a dead woman." Her response was to narrow her eyes, arch a brow. "If that's some sort of cop humor, I'm afraid you'll have to translate.

Angela Carter...refused to join in rejecting or denouncing fairy tales, but instead embraced the whole stigmatized genre, its stock characters and well-known plots, and with wonderful verve and invention, perverse grace and wicked fun, soaked them in a new fiery liquor that brought them leaping back to life. From her childhood, through her English degree at the University of Bristol where she specialised in Medieval Literature, and her experiences as a young woman on the folk-music circuit in the West Country, Angela Carter was steeped in English and Celtic faerie, in romances of chivalry and the grail, Chaucerian storytelling and Spenserian allegory, and she was to become fairy tale’s rescuer, the form’s own knight errant, who seized hold of it in its moribund state and plunged it into the fontaine de jouvence itself. (from "Chamber of Secrets: The Sorcery of Angela Carter")

Once your baby arrives, the world is no more the same than you are. Because from our very bodies we add to the collective human destiny. Our deepest urge is always toward life, to wholeness and well being.

Evolution of mind was altogether another matter and belonged to another science, but whether one traced descent from the shark or the wolf was immaterial even in morals. This matter had been discussed for ages without scientific result. La Fontaine and other fabulists maintained that the wolf, even in morals, stood higher than man; and in view of the late civil war, Adams had doubts of his own on the facts of moral evolution:

Many of them were familiar from childhood with the fables of La Fontaine. Or they had read Voltaire or Racine or Molière in English translations. But that was about the sum of any familiarity they had with French literature. And none, of course, could have known in advance that the 1830s and ’40s in Paris were to mark the beginning of the great era of Victor Hugo, Balzac, George Sand, and Baudelaire, not to say anything of Delacroix in painting or Chopin and Liszt in music.

Не все погибли от нее, но пострадали все. ("Животные, заболевшие чумой")

Maybe that’s what coffee shops sold. The idea that everything was okay, at least here, in this moment.

With Prayer, Love and Patience, it makes your journey so much easier in life.

There isn’t a woman I know who hasn’t said they wished they’d listened to their mother… especially where the three Big Ms of women’s lives are concerned: mothering, money, and men.

I wasn’t among the fortunate to have seen sexy Brigitte Bardot sunbathing topless along Spain’s magnificent Costa del Sol way back when, but I could not imagine it being more breathtakingly impactful on a man than was my first glimpse of Alisha Fontaine.

It’s a dangerous thing, to divide yourself, to break off bits of yourself until there’s no solid core. We are, after all, just the sum of our total experiences, each one lying beneath us like a brick in the foundation of a house. To be selective, to block out portions, is to destabilize the very ground on which you stand.

For the eternity that Lux Lisbon looked at him, Trip Fontaine looked back, and the love he felt at that moment, truer than all subsequent loves because it never had to survive real life, still plagued him, even now in the desert, with his looks and health wasted.

Peace had failed her and Ashley had failed her, both in the same day, and it was as if the last crevice in the shell had been sealed, the final layer hardened. She had become what Grandma Fontaine had counseled against, a woman who had seen the worst and so had nothing else to fear. Not life nor Mother nor loss of love nor public opinion. Only hunger and her nightmare dream of hunger could make her afraid.

Sometimes, we have to give birth to our children twice....Once your child becomes the "garbage" other parents are afraid of, you never look at any teen, or yourself, the same again. All you see is the child they once were.

Ea nu-i va cunoaște niciodată pe frații Fontaine. Ea nu va auzi niciodată de această cină, în drum spre râu. Ea nu se va întoarce niciodată acasă dimineața, sau marți, sau peste trei luni. Ea n-o să se mai întoarcă nicidoată. S-a dus, și lumea umblă mai departe fără ea... Pentru un minut, nu mai pot respira sau gândi.

They didn't exchange a single word. But in the weeks that followed, Trip spent his days wandering the halls, hoping for Lux to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen. Even in sensible school shoes, she shuffled as though barefoot, and the baggy apparel Mrs. Lisbon bought for her only increased her appeal, as though after undressing she had put on whatever was handy. In corduroys her thighs rubbed together, buzzing, and there was always at least one untidy marvel to unravel him: an untucked shirttail, a sock with a hole, a ripped seam showing underarm hair. She carted her books from class to class but never opened them. Her pens and pencils were as temporary as Cinderella's broom. When she smiled, her mouth showed too many teeth, but at night Trip Fontaine dreamed of being bitten by each one.

We tell our daughters we don’t trust them in a thousand ways. We don’t consciously mean to, but we steal their confidence in their own strength by stealing their pain. And their confidence in our strength by saying we aren’t strong enough to see them struggle.

il y a dans les villes deux fonctions, l'une primaire d'habitation, l'autre secondaire de circulation, et on voit aujourd'hui partout l'habitation méprisée, sacrifiée à la circulation, de telle sorte que nos villes, privées d'arbres, de fontaines, de marchés, de berges, pour être de plus en plus «circulables», deviennent de moins en moins habitables.

S'il fallait condamner Tous les ingrats qui sont au monde, A qui pourrait-on pardonner?

Laiſſez dire les ſots, le ſavoir a ſon prix.

My stories are a window into my heart....they emmulate the same happiness, pain, fear, sorrow that I was feeling when the storie was conceived...

Ich gönnte keinem andern," fuhr er fort zu lügen, "Ein solch olympisch Schlemmerglück, Nur dir, mein liebster Freund, allein. Geniesse dies mit vollen Zügen.

Mes hanches ton bassin éclipsait un rivage;je m'étendais pour ne plus revenir j'ai hurlé ma famine arrachée à toi

This gentleman, with knowing air, Survey'd

vigoroso

trincasse, a tagarela Foi valer-se

Raça por mim tão amada, Desta feita morrerás!» Júpiter daí a nada Fez-se menos ferrabrás.

Tout flatteur vit aux dépens de celui qui l’écoute.

Rien n'est si dangereux qu'un ignorant ami; Mieux vaudrait un sage ennemi.

Claire: Once your baby arrives, the world is no more the same than you are. Because from our very bodies we add to the collective human destiny.

Je voudrais lui dire que je sais. Pourquoi je me tais. Le silence. Je voudrais écrire le silence.

No está cubierto de flores el camino a la gloria

His face is an open invitation to bed.

Oft trifft man sein Schicksal auf Wegen, die man eingeschlagen hatte, um ihm zu entgehen. (Jean de La Fontaine)

Though Mrs. Fontaine smiled, I couldn't help but wonder if she'd sized me up and found me lacking.

A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it." -Jean de La Fontaine    

Man is so made that when anything fires his soul, impossibilities vanish. —JEAN DE LA FONTAINE

À la claire fontaine m’en allant promener J’ai trouvé l’eau si belle que je m’y suis baigné. Il y a longtemps que je t’aime, jamais je ne t’oublierai.

Mademoiselle de Fontaine had an ideal standard which was to be the model. A young man who at the first glance did not fulfil the requisite conditions did not even get a second look.

Nous avons accepté la règle du jeu, le jeu nous forme à son image. Le Sahara, c’est en nous qu’il se montre. L’aborder ce n’est point visiter l’oasis, c’est faire notre religion d’une fontaine.

George’s eyes moved quickly back to the paper, and his lips twitched as he finished, “And finally , to Shauna Fontaine, I leave the knowledge that, when I started it with her, I got a vasectomy.

She was an open book. She had nothing to hide. She had an air about her. An air of conviction. She had lived and had no regrets. She was compulsively unapologetic about the choices that she had made.

Claire: One of the hallmarks of a mother-daughter relationship is what I call the Zero to Sixty Factor. We can get instantly irritated at each other and just as instantly move on… Men don’t get this. Paul will say, “Girls, stop fussing,” and we’ll immediately turn and say in unison, “We’re not arguing.

Il ouvre un large bec, laisse tomber sa proie. Le Renard s'en saisit, et dit : "Mon bon Monsieur, Apprenez que tout flatteur Vit aux dépens de celui qui l'écoute : Cette leçon vaut bien un fromage, sans doute.

Le fabricateur souverain nous créa besaciers tous de même manière, tant ceux du temps passé que du temps d’aujourd’hui : Il fit pour nos défauts la poche de derrière, Et celle de devant pour les défauts d’autrui.

I find it disturbing that one anthropologist's readings of transcripts are being listened to more seriously than 40 senior health service clinicians. [Referring to Jean La Fontaine's 1994 research paper for the DOH]

Have you ever done the splits trying to be a stripper named Gigi Fontaine while dancing to Britney with moves you learned from a Paula Abdul exercise VHS tape in the nineties after having four shots of Jager? Me too.

True love comes in quietly, without banners or flashing lights. She is your sanity in a world full of madness. True love is not how grand you are or how simple you are, but it's who you are when you're with her and she loves you not in spite of it, but because of it. She is the one who stands with you, when the rest of the world falls down.

She recognizes the cramped handwriting, the internecine, slashing script. She has studied it under the gaze of the Institute Librarian, in locked rooms -- she even, in the early, giddy days of her conversion, practiced Fulton's handwriting for hours. Knows the ink. . . . Here it is now, on the familiar notebook paper Fulton preferred. She tracked down the manufacturer once; they have a plant across the river where they still turn out the Fontaine line.

Deslauriers, qui couchait dans le cabinet au bois, près de la fontaine, poussait un long bâillement. Frédéric s'asseyait au pied de son lit. D'abord il parlait du dîner, puis il racontait mille détails insignifiants, où il voyait des marques de mépris ou d'affection. Une fois, par exemple, elle avait refusé son bras, pour prendre celui de Dittmer, et Frédéric se désolait. - Ah ! quelle bêtise! Ou bien elle l'avait appelé son "ami". - Vas-y gaiement, alors! - Mais je n'ose pas, disait Frédéric. - Eh bien, n'y pense plus. Bonsoir.

center. For the eternity that Lux Lisbon looked at him, Trip Fontaine looked back, and the love he felt at that moment, truer than all subsequent loves because it never had to survive real life, still plagued him, even now in the desert, with his looks and health wasted.

Okay; they’ve got to be kids—but why girls?” Fontaine asked. “People are even more protective about little girls.” Tenenbaum winced and turned back to the microscope, muttering, “For some reason girls take sea-slug implant better than boys.” Fontaine wondered what little boy they’d experimented on to determine that and what had become of him. But he didn’t really care. He didn’t. And in fact—there was one place that could supply children for all sorts of things. “So—just girls, eh? That’s okay; that’ll just be fewer bunks in the orphanage.

What does Madame Schinner say to all this?” pursued the count; “for I believe you married, out of love, the beautiful Adelaide de Rouville, the protegee of old Admiral de Kergarouet; who, by the bye, obtained for you the order for the Louvre ceilings through his nephew, the Comte de Fontaine.

My relationship with God has evolved as well. I no longer rail or beg or sass back. I was standing on a bluff over the ocean the other day and suddenly laughed out loud as I realized what an illusion that was, what an impossibility. That would assume a relationship between a “me” and “Other,” a separation. There is no otherness; to be separate from God is to be separate from myself, from life itself. What I’ve been looking for, I’m looking with.

The girls were right in choosing to love Trip, because he was the only boy who could keep his mouth shut. By nature Trip Fontaine possessed the discretion of the world's great lovers, seducers greater than Casanova because they didn't leave behind twelve volumes of memoirs and we don't even know who they were.

Gramma Pearl fixed my earache with my pee!" GrandMary recoiled and, a heart-beat later, glared at my mother as if this was her fault. something split inside me when I saw my mother's embarrassment. I learned there were times when I was expected to be a Fontaine and other times when it was safe to be a Firekeeper.

Il m'a toujours semblé que la musique ne devrait être que du silence, qui chercherait à s'exprimer. Voyez, par exemple, une fontaine. L'eau muette emplit les conduits, s'y amasse, en déborde, et la perle qui tombe est sonore. Il m'a toujours semblé que la musique ne devrait être que le trop-plein d'un grand silence. (p. 81)

These are the kinds of regrets all women have, mistakes and missteps, paths not chosen, opportunities gone. Youth gone. Forever. And until I honestly acknowledge how this regret feels, acknowledge that I’m not okay with how some of my life went, it’s like having a fake past, and a fake present, which is surely a prescription for a fake future.

We ought never to mock the wretched, for who can be sure of being always happy?

Witches is just a word people came up with as an excuse to kill strong women,

I wonder why we always feel disdain for our old selves,” Uriah said. “We should feel thankful. We should appreciate the people we used to be rather than being ashamed of them.

There are lots of ways to lose yourself—motherhood’s just one of them.

the brain often rejected logic in favor of desire. “Have

Mon peuple est un peuple de nuages nous ne les pelletons pas l'hiver la neige nous élève en êtres insurgés raquettes aux pieds, joues saillantes

Your first period may unequivocally announce puberty, but your first 9–5 doesn’t definitively mean you’ve grown up.

She'll be apples

This was how she coped, by calming her mind and removing all wants.

The problem with a mass delusion is that by definition, only the heretics know when we are living through one.

I wonder why we always feel disdain for our old selves...We should feel thankful. We should appreciate the people we used to be rather than being ashamed of them.

The only way to do it is to do it. There is no trick.

Le vent déracina celui de qui le ciel était voisin et dont les pieds touchaient à l'empire des mots.

You're the gayest bitch I ever did love..

I could see where I’d mistaken drama and conflict for life, which meant years of living reactively instead of generatively, a life I let be determined by circumstances and the choices of others. We like to think life happens to us, but pretty much everything in your life is there because you wanted it, even if unconsciously. Results, I have learned, don’t lie.

Le temps a laissié son manteau De vent, de froidure et de pluye, Et s'est vestu de brouderie, De soleil luyant, cler et beau.     Il n'y a beste, ne oyseau, Qu'en son jargon ne chante ou crie : Le temps a laissié son manteau !     Riviere, fontaine et ruisseau Portent, en livree jolie, Gouttes d'argent, d'orfaverie, Chascun s'abille de nouveau : Le temps a laissié son manteau !

Why, gentlemen, if Georgia fights, I'll go with her. Why else would I have joined the troop?' he said. His gray eyes opened wide and their drowsiness disappeared in an intensity that Scarlett had never seen before. 'But, like Father, I hope the Yankees will let us go in peace and that there will be no fighting-' He held up his hand with a smile, as a babel of voices from the Fontaine and Tarleton boys began. 'Yes, yes, I know we've been insulted and lied to-but if we'd been in the Yankees' shoes and they were trying to leave the Union, how would we have acted? Pretty much the same. We wouldn't have liked it.' 'There he goes again,' thought Scarlett. 'Always putting himself in the other fellow's shoes.' To her, there was never but one fair side to an argument. Sometimes, there was no understanding Ashley. 'Let's don't be too hot headed and let's don't have any war. Most of the misery of the world has been caused by wars. And when the wars were over, no one ever knew what they were all about.' Scarlett sniffed. Lucky for Ashley that he had an unassailable reputation for courage, or else there'd be trouble. As she thought this, the clamor of dissenting voices rose up about Ashley, indignant, fiery.

Like most spoiled children, she tyrannized over those who loved her, and kept her blandishments for those who were indifferent. Her faults grew with her growth, and her parents were to gather the bitter fruits of this disastrous education. At the age of nineteen Emilie de Fontaine had not yet been pleased to make a choice from among the many young men whom her father’s politics brought to his entertainments.

Près de quatre mille jeunes combattants morisques succombèrent en tentant de rapporter de l'eau aux enfants qui mourraient de déshydratation.obligés de capituler,ils demandèrent finalement à être déportés et descendirent précipitamment vers les fontaines.Quelques uns moururent pour avoir trop bu.les survivants furent triés :les femmes et les enfants en état de servir furent séparés des autres pour être vendus

Accountability is not about blame, it’s not about being wrong, it is about owning the choices you’ve made, or are making, that create the results you have in your life. And you do create everything in your life.

In the famous tale by Ahiqar, later picked up by Aesop (then again by La Fontaine), the dog boasts to the wolf all the contraptions of comfort and luxury he has, almost prompting the wolf to enlist. Until the wolf asks the dog about his collar and is terrified when he understands its use. “Of all your meals, I want nothing.” He ran away and is still running.*3 The question is: what would you like to be, a dog or a wolf?

Amants, heureux amants, voulez-vous voyager? Que ce soit aux rives prochaines; Soyez-vous l'un à l'autre un monde toujours beau, Toujours divers, toujours nouveau; Tenez-vous lieu de tout, comptez pour rien le reste.

Child, it's a very bad thing for a woman to face the worst that can happen to her, because after she's faced the worst she can't ever really fear anything again. And it's very bad for a woman not to be afraid of something... ...that's been fifty years ago, as I said, and since that time I've never been afraid of anything or anybody because I'd known the worst that could happen to me. And that lack of fear has gotten me into a lot of trouble and cost me a lot of happiness. God intended women to be timid and frightened creatures and there's something unnatural about a woman who isn't afraid... Scarlett, always save something to fear - even as you save something to love...

Child, it's a very bad thing for a woman to face the worst that can happen to her, because after she's faced the worst she can't ever really fear anything again. And it's very bad for a woman not to be afraid of something . . . that's been fifty years ago, as I said, and since that time I've never been afraid of anything or anybody because I'd known the worst that could happen to me. And that lack of fear has gotten me into a lot of trouble and cost me a lot of happiness. God intended women to be timid and frightened creatures and there's something unnatural about a woman who isn't afraid... Scarlett, always save something to fear - even as you save something to love...

I wonder how much of a person is simply fabricated by others,” she said. “And think about this: None of us see the same person in the exact same way. We bring ourselves into the equation. So an individual is never really an individual.

Nor did I grasp the capacity of love's absence to destroy, that my lack of love for myself made my own life unbearable. You take someone whose life experiences have taught them they're worthless, string them out on drugs, and you have one miserable person. How could I have given what I didn't have? It's hard to value another life when you view your own as dispensable, hard to understand how you can have so great an effect on someone else when you don't think you matter.

he saw neither teacher nor students, and was aware only of the heavenly light in the room, an orange glow from the autumnal foliage outside. the room seemed full of a sweet viscous liquid, a honey nearly light as air, which he breathed in.

No", sanoi Mummo katsoen häntä tutkivasti kasvoihin, "mikä Tarassa on hullusti? Mitä sinä salailet?" Scarlett katsoi teräviin vanhoihin silmiin ja näki, että hän voisi kertoa totuuden kyynelittä. Ei kukaan voinut itkeä Fointainen Mummon seurassa ilman hänen nimenomaista lupaansa. "Äiti on kuollut", sanoi Scarlett soinnuttomasti. Hänen käsivarrellaan olevan käden ote tiukkeni, kunnes se nipisti, ja keltaisten silmien ryppyiset luomet värähtivät. "Jenkitkö hänet tappoivat?" "Hän kuoli lavantautiin. Kuoli - päivää ennenkuin minä tulin kotiin." "Älä ajattele sitä", sanoi Mummo ankarasti, ja Scarlett näki hänen nielaisevan. "Entä isäsi?" "Isä - isä ei ole entisellään." "Mitä tarkoita? Anna kuulua. Onko hän sairas?" "Järkytys - hän on niin kummallinen - hän ei ole -" "Älä käytä minulle puhuessasi sellaisia sanontoja kuin että hän ei ole entisellään. Tarkoitatko, että hän on mennyt sekaisin päästään?" Oli helpottavaa kuulla totuus noin peittelemättömänä. Miten kiltti Mummo Fontaine olikaan, kun ei osoittanut sellaista myötätuntoa, joka olisi pannut itkemään.

Anlaşalım, La Fontaine Beyefendi. Ben sizi seçerek okuyacağıma, sizi seveceğime, masallarınızdan ders alacağıma söz veriyorum; çünkü bunların amaçları konusunda yanılgıya düşmeyeceğimi umuyorum. Ama öğrencime gelince, izin verin de, dörtte birini bile anlayamayacağı şeyleri ona öğretmenin uygun olacağını, anlayabildiği şeylerde de hiçbir zaman yanılamayacağını ve hileye bakarak bu konuda kusurunu düzeltecek yerde, hileciye bakarak kendini ona göre yetiştirmeyeceğini siz bana tanıtlayıncaya dek ona masallarınızdan bir tekini bile öğretmeyeyim.

I know that for every mother, there is always the possibility of three in your relationship with your daughter. You, your daughter the way she is, and your daughter the way you want her to be. I learned the hard way ten years ago that that kind of control is an illusion and a barrier.

LA VENUS CALLIPYGA Hubo en la Grecia dos siracusanas, Que tenían un trasero portentoso; Y, por saber la cual de las hermanas Lo tenía más gentil, duro y carnoso, Desnudas se mostraron a un perito Que, después de palpar con dulce apremio, Ofreció a la mayor su mano, en premio. Tomó su hermano el no menos bonito De la menor; alegres se casaron, Y, tras más de una grata peripecia, En honor de las dos un templo alzaron, Con el nombre de: «Venus, nalga recia.» No sé qué intención hubiera sido, Mas fuera aqueste el templo de la Grecia Al que más devoción habría tenido.

J'imaginais les tourments. Le coeur qui se braque. Le cauchemar d'être réveillée en pleine nuit et de se faire dire que... que quoi? C'est pour elle que mes yeux se sont embués. Et pour la fatalité. Et pour la souffrance qui fait mourir. Et pour la peur. Pour cette envie irrépressible d'être ailleurs.

I wonder how much of a person is simply fabricated by others,” she said. “And think about this: None of us see the same person in the exact same way. We bring ourselves into the equation. So an individual is never really an individual.” “This might be a little too deep for a hangover. Are you saying we’re not only a product of our environment; we’re also informed by accurate and inaccurate observations by others? That makes my head hurt even more.” “One thing I know, before my capture I saw myself through everybody else’s eyes, if that makes any sense. Every single person I engaged with throughout the day. I read their reaction to me and saw what they saw, accurate or inaccurate. That hasn’t happened since my escape. I don’t know if this new me is normal or abnormal, but that skewed reflection no longer exists. It should feel good, but it’s like something is gone.” You become the person he sees.

La Cigale, ayant chanté Tout l'Été, Se trouva fort dépourvue Quand la bise fut venue. Pas un seul petit morceau De mouche ou de vermisseau. Elle alla crier famine Chez la Fourmi sa voisine, La priant de lui prêter Quelque grain pour subsister Jusqu'à la saison nouvelle. Je vous paierai, lui dit-elle, Avant l'Oût, foi d'animal, Intérêt et principal. La Fourmi n'est pas prêteuse ; C'est là son moindre défaut. « Que faisiez-vous au temps chaud ? Dit-elle à cette emprunteuse. - Nuit et jour à tout venant Je chantais, ne vous déplaise. - Vous chantiez ? j'en suis fort aise. Eh bien ! dansez maintenant. »

The world is full of instructions and advice on how to mother, in bookstores, in academia, on the playgrounds, in the media. Mothers are always examining how they treat their children, but aside from the occasional “Don’t talk to your mother that way,” or “You shouldn’t have listened to your mother,” there’s not much guidance out there for daughters.

In her book claiming that allegations of ritualistic abuse are mostly confabulations, La Fontaine’s (1998) comparison of social workers to ‘nazis’ shows the depth of feeling evident amongst many sceptics. However, this raises an important question: Why did academics and journalists feel so strongly about allegations of ritualistic abuse, to the point of pervasively misrepresenting the available evidence and treating women disclosing ritualistic abuse, and those workers who support them, with barely concealed contempt? It is of course true that there are fringe practitioners in the field of organised abuse, just as there are fringe practitioners in many other health-related fields. However, the contrast between the measured tone of the majority of therapists and social workers writing on ritualistic abuse, and the over-blown sensationalism of their critics, could not be starker. Indeed, Scott (2001) notes with irony that the writings of those who claimed that ‘satanic ritual abuse’ is a ‘moral panic’ had many of the features of a moral panic: scapegoating therapists, social workers and sexual abuse victims whilst warning of an impending social catastrophe brought on by an epidemic of false allegations of sexual abuse. It is perhaps unsurprising that social movements for people accused of sexual abuse would engage in such hyperbole, but why did this rhetoric find so many champions in academia and the media?

Soudain, il me sembla que le ciel descendait. De la terre, surgit comme une fontaine d’énergie dorée. Cette chaude énergie m’encercla, et mon corps et mon esprit devinrent très légers et très clairs. Je pouvais même comprendre le chant des petits oiseaux autour de moi. A cet instant, je pouvais comprendre que le travail de toute ma vie dans le Budo était réellement fondé sur l’amour divin et sur les lois de la création. Je ne pus retenir mes larmes, et pleurai sans retenue. Depuis ce jour, j’ai su que cette grande Terre elle-même était ma maison et mon foyer. Le soleil, la lune et les étoiles m’appartiennent. Depuis ce jour, je n’ai plus jamais ressenti aucun attachement envers la propriété et les possessions.

Il Consiglio dei Topi Un Gatto, che diceano il Mangialardo, facea dei Topi un così gran macello, e tanti nell’avello n’avea sospinti e sbigottiti tanti, che i pochi vivi ancora non osavano il muso cacciar fuora. Quatti nei buchi sen morian di fame, tanta paura avean di quel, non gatto, ma carnefice infame. Un giorno tuttavia, colto il momento che il gatto andò a far visita all’amante e stette in alto tutta la giornata, si radunano i Topi a parlamento. Il presidente ch’era una persona di gran senno, propose, e parve bello a tutti il suo consiglio, che si attaccasse al gatto un campanello, un campanel che suona e dia l’avviso ai topi di fuggire, quando il nemico accenna di venire. - Bravo, bene, benissimo! – Ciascuno approva la mozione. Ma quando si trattò di sceglier quello che attaccare doveva il campanello, non si trovò nessuno. O fossi matto… io no… fossi corbello… Vedendo ch’era chiacchiera perduta, il presidente leva la seduta. Ho veduto qualche altro parlamento, (non di topi) e qualche altra commissione che venne alla precisa conclusione. A ciarlar son bravi in cento, ma diverso è ben l’affare quando trattasi di fare.

In Dr. Hornicker's opinion, Lux's promiscuity was a commonplace reaction to emotional need. "Adolescents tend to seek love where they can find it," he wrote in one of the many articles he hoped to publish. "Lux confused the sexual act with love. For her, sex became a substitute for the comfort she needed as a result of her sister's suicide." ... Years later, Trip Fontaine was irritated by our suggestion that Lux's passion might have come from a misplaced need. "What are you saying, that I was just a vehicle? You can't fake that, man. It was real." We even managed to bring up the subject with Mrs. Lisbon during our single interview with her in a bus station cafeteria, but she grew rigid. "None of my daughters lacked for any love. We had plenty of love in our house.

Some mental healthcare workers are aware of clients with high needs, such as dissociative disorders and personality disorders, who have histories of sexual abuse (contact offences), usually from early childhood, involving two or more adults acting together and multiple child victims (Gold et al., 1996; McClellan et al., 1995; Middleton & Butler, 1998). This has been defined as “organised abuse” (Bibby, 1996; La Fontaine, 1993). Excluded from this definition are cases where a child is sexually abused by multiple perpetrators who are unaware of one another, such as survival sex amongst homeless youths, or where abuse is limited to a single household or family and there are no extra-familial victims (La Fontaine, 1993). Organised abuse: A neglected category of sexual abuse. Journal of Mental Health, 2012; 21(5): 499–508

Les bêtes, cela parle; et Dupont de Nemours Les comprend, chants et cris, gaîté, colère, amours. C'est dans Perrault un fait, dans Homère un prodige; Phèdre prend leur parole au vol et la rédige; La Fontaine, dans l'herbe épaisse et le genêt Rôdait, guettant, rêvant, et les espionnait; Ésope, ce songeur bossu comme le Pinde, Les entendait en Grèce, et Pilpaï dans l'Inde; Les clairs étangs le soir offraient leurs noirs jargons A monsieur Florian, officier de dragons; Et l'âpre Ézéchiel, l'affreux prophète chauve, Homme fauve, écoutait parler la bête fauve. Les animaux naïfs dialoguent entr'eux. Et toujours, que ce soit le hibou ténébreux, L'ours qu'on entend gronder, l'âne qu'on entend braire, Ou l'oie apostrophant le dindon, son grand frère, Ou la guêpe insultant l'abeille sur l'Hybla, Leur bêtise à l'esprit de l'homme ressembla.

- Child is abused, perpetrator threatens to hurt mother. Child feels protective of mother. - Struggle to escape perp reinforces feelings of mutual protection. It's Mom and I against the world. - Something necessary at the time later creates "enmeshment." Child doesn't see her actions as separate from mother. Even during normal adolescent individuation. But-- - Normal individuation doesn't happen in abuse survivors. They don't feel normal, so they-- - Act out in unhealthy or self-destructive ways, which creates-- - Fear and pain for mother, which creates-- - Guilt for child who still feels responsible for mother's emotional health. - Child seeks release from the guilt and from not feeling normal, which leads to-- - Escape to the world of other not normal people, where mother can't see her child self-destruct, which leads to-- "The bad news.

Si j'étais ce pigeon qui vomit sur les hommes de bronze fausses idoles carnassiers ivres se tâtant le pectoral gauche avec la main droite lavée par les colombes Qui d'autre est capable de provoquer l'amnésie octroyer la carence à ceux qu'il gouverne Qui d'autre sait appeler union ce qui est discorde pour s'arracher le premier pour s'arracher le meilleur des confins de toutes les colonies qui d'autre sait appeler croissance ce qui est régression

Being a woman, I have found the road rougher than had I been born a man. Different defenses, different codes of ethics, different approaches to problems and personalities are a woman's lot. I have preferred to shun what is known as feminine wiles, the subterfuge of subtlety, reliance on tears and coquetry to shape my way. I am forthright, often blunt. I have learned to be a realist despite my romantic, emotional nature. I have no illusions that age, the rigors of my profession, disappointments, and unfulfilled dreams have not left their mark. I am proud that I have carved my path on earth almost entirely by my own efforts, proud that I have compromised in my career only when I had no other recourse, when financial or contractual commitments dictated. Proud that I have never been involved in a physical liaison unless I was deeply attracted or in love. Proud that, whatever my worldly goods may be, they have been achieved by my own labors.

What was the payoff? It obviously kept me in my cozy zone of being in control, being a good mother, with a good daughter. Most of all, I realize, is that it allowed me to maintain the lie that she was healed, that Nick hadn't permanently damaged her, that I'd truly saved her. Because if I did, if there was no lasting residue of him, it meant that the denial that kept me in the marriage long enough for him to hurt her didn't help create the situation she's in now. The person who I worked hardest to keep safe seems to have been me.

Florin Ciubotaru, lui et moi étions les seuls à ne pas faire de trafic de livres à clefs politiques soustraits à l’inventaire : un dessous-de-table de moindre valeur qu’une cartouche de Kent, mais bon pour des docteurs, pour des directeurs d’école, etc. Nous avions constamment peur de devoir payer pour nos chefs qui, de mèche avec leurs gars, vendaient sous le manteau des tirages parallèles de livres de Marin Preda, d’Augustin Buzura, de Mario Vargas Llosa, de Mircea Eliade et d’autres best-sellers. Nous étions leurs complices, leurs serfs, attachés à la terre.

Standing at the prow of the pitching deck of the trawler, unscrewing the top of his flask, Frank Fontaine asked himself: Am I after fish—or a wild goose? Sure, he always dreamed about a big-paying long con, but this one was threatening to go on indefinitely—and though it was afternoon and supposedly summer, it was cold as a son of a bitch out here. Made a witch’s tit seem like a hot toddy. Was it worth giving up Gorland—becoming Fontaine? A city under the sea. It was becoming an obsession. Fontaine looked up at the streaming charcoal-colored clouds, wondered if it was going to storm again. Just being on this damn tub was too much like work. Talking to the men who picked up the fish for Rapture’s food supply, Fontaine had confirmed that Ryan had indeed built some gigantic underwater habitat, a kind of free-market utopia—and Fontaine knew what happened with utopias. Look at the Soviets—all those fine words about the proletariat had turned into gulags and breadlines. But a “utopia” was pure opportunity for a man like him. When this undersea utopia fell apart, he’d be there, with a whole society to feast on. Long as he didn’t step too hard on Ryan’s toes, he could build up an organization, get away with a pile of loot. But he had to get down to Rapture first … The trawler lurched, and so did Fontaine’s stomach. A small craft was being lowered over the side of the platform ship—a thirty-foot gig. Men descended

The other evening, in that cafe-cabaret in the Rue de la Fontaine, where I had run aground with Tramsel and Jocard, who had taken me there to see that supposedly-fashionable singer... how could they fail to see that she was nothing but a corpse? Yes, beneath the sumptuous and heavy ballgown, which swaddled her and held her upright like a sentry-box of pink velvet trimmed and embroidered with gold - a coffin befitting the queen of Spain - there was a corpse! But the others, amused by her wan voice and her emaciated frame, found her quaint - more than that, quite 'droll'... Droll! that drab, soft and inconsistent epithet that everyone uses nowadays! The woman had, to be sure, a tiny carven head, and a kind of macabre prettiness within the furry heap of her opera-cloak. They studied her minutely, interested by the romance of her story: a petite bourgeoise thrown into the high life following the fad which had caught her up - and neither of them, nor anyone else besides in the whole of that room, had perceived what was immediately evident to my eyes. Placed flat on the white satin of her dress, the two hands of that singer were the two hands of a skeleton: two sets of knuckle-bones gloved in white suede. They might have been drawn by Albrecht Durer: the ten fingers of an evil dead woman, fitted at the ends of the two overlong and excessively thin arms of a mannequin... And while that room convulsed with laughter and thrilled with pleasure, greeting her buffoonery and her animal cries with a dolorous ovation, I became convinced that her hands no more belonged to her body than her body, with its excessively high shoulders, belonged to her head... The conviction filled me with such fear and sickness that I did not hear the singing of a living woman, but of some automaton pieced together from disparate odds and ends - or perhaps even worse, some dead woman hastily reconstructed from hospital remains: the macabre fantasy of some medical student, dreamed up on the benches of the lecture-hall... and that evening began, like some tale of Hoffmann, to turn into a vision of the lunatic asylum. Oh, how that Olympia of the concert-hall has hastened the progress of my malady!

Adieu, vous que j'aimais. Ce n'est point ma faute si le corps humain ne peut résister trois jours sans boire. Je ne me croyais pas prisonnier ainsi des fontaines. Je ne soupçonnais pas une aussi courte autonomie. On croit que l'homme peut s'en aller droit devant soi. On croit que l'homme est libre. On ne voit pas la corde qui le rattache au puits, qui le rattache, comme un cordon ombilical, au ventre de la terre. S'il fait un pas de plus, il meurt. À part votre souffrance, je ne regrette rien. Tout compte fait, j'ai eu la meilleure part. Si je rentrais, je recommencerais. J'ai besoin de vivre. Dans les villes, il n'y a plus de vie humaine. Il ne s'agit point ici d'aviation. L'avion, ce n'est pas une fin, c'est un moyen. Ce n'est pas pour l'avion que l'on risque sa vie. Ce n'est pas non plus pour sa charrue que le paysan laboure. Mais, par l'avion, on quitte les villes et leurs comptables, et l'on retrouve une vérité paysanne. On fait un travail d'homme et l'on connaît des soucis d'homme. On est en contact avec le vent, avec les étoiles, avec la nuit, avec le sable, avec la mer. On ruse avec les forces naturelles. On attend l'aube comme le jardinier attend le printemps. On attend l'escale comme une Terre promise, et l'on cherche sa vérité dans les étoiles. Je ne me plaindrai pas. Depuis trois jours, j'ai marché, j'ai eu soif, j'ai suivi des pistes dans le sable, j'ai fait de la rosée mon espérance. J'ai cherché à joindre mon espèce, dont j'avais oublié où elle logeait sur la terre. Et ce sont là des soucis de vivants. Je ne puis pas ne pas les juger plus importants que le choix, le soir, d'un music-hall. Je ne comprends plus ces populations des trains de banlieue, ces hommes qui se croient des hommes, et qui cependant sont réduits, par une pression qu'ils ne sentent pas, comme les fourmis, à l'usage qui en est fait. De quoi remplissent-ils, quand ils sont libres, leurs absurdes petits dimanches ? Une fois, en Russie, j'ai entendu jouer du Mozart dans une usine. Je l'ai écrit. J'ai reçu deux cents lettres d'injures. Je n'en veux pas à ceux qui préfèrent le beuglant. Ils ne connaissent point d'autre chant. J'en veux au tenancier du beuglant. Je n'aime pas que l'on abîme les hommes. Moi je suis heureux dans mon métier. Je me sens paysan des escales. Dans le train de banlieue, je sens mon agonie bien autrement qu'ici ! Ici, tout compte fait, quel luxe !... Je ne regrette rien. J'ai joué, j'ai perdu. C'est dans l'ordre de mon métier. Mais, tout de même, je l'ai respiré, le vent de la mer. Ceux qui l'ont goûté une fois n'oublient pas cette nourriture. N'est-ce pas, mes camarades ? Et il ne s'agit pas de vivre dangereusement. Cette formule est prétentieuse. Les toréadors ne me plaisent guère. Ce n'est pas le danger que j'aime. Je sais ce que j'aime. C'est la vie.

La Fontaine avait illustré, dans La Cigale et la Fourmi, ce qui était la morale de son

This is your last chance, Rhine Fontaine.” “Understood. But I won’t be changing my mind.

Le capital est moins une fontaine qui éclabousse l'ensemble qu'un trophée qu'on se dispute

Uriah said. “We should feel thankful. We should appreciate the people we used to be rather than being ashamed of them.

Lucy comes from a long line of Cajun police officers and lunatics who have taught her an appreciation for the odder things in life. She doesn’t want to believe in the paranormal, but when fate knocks her in the head . . . sometimes you just have to say . . . maybe it’s all...

e ne me souviens plus de ton nom je cache mon visage dans mes mains épelle-moi le nom de ma terre épelle-moi le nom de ma mère mes paupières sont closes depuis trop de siècles

I’ve got toe warmers in my boots and finger warmers in my gloves, thermal underwear, insulated snow pants, and a down jacket, and I’m freezing my ass off. And then I see photos of people in Antarctica, and it’s forty below or something insane, and they’re standing there smiling with no hat. And you have to wonder: What the hell?

Chain! Chain you! What! Run you not, then, just where you please, and when?” “Not always, sir; but what of that?” “Enough for me, to spoil your fat! It ought to be a precious price which could to servile chains entice; for me, I’ll shun them while I’ve wit.” So ran Sir Wolf, and runneth yet.

Now that she was free, she marveled at how she’d lived through it, but people adapted. People were resilient. They became who they needed to be in order to survive.

Robynne was a natural gusher, a ‘femme fontaine

The two of them had spent the afternoon in a futile attempt to locate the house where she’d been held captive. An hour into the search Uriah realized cruising up and down streets in hopes of spotting something that looked familiar was a waste of time. She didn’t have a clue. And how could she? The darkness, combined with her physical and mental state . . . He wasn’t sure he would have taken note of his surroundings under those circumstances. Now she sat across from his desk expecting him to turn over the files on every case she’d been working at the time of her abduction.

Some crew members deserve to walk the plank. Prevent mutiny, rid scoundrels from your life.

was the same day she quit thinking about the world beyond the windowless cell. That world no longer existed. Not for her. Now there were just the plates of food that came at uneven intervals,

When she tried to speak, her voice scratchy and unfamiliar and hollow, he’d smack her across the face.

Everything about parenthood seemed rife with pain, but to lose a child in such a way . . . Most mothers would die for their children. But then there were others . . .

I think that’s true. And maybe why I try to protect my mother from the bad things in my life.

Sans doute est-ce là le pouvoir du conteur : à chaque nouvelle histoire, nous faire redécouvrir les mots ; un peu comme la fontaine nous réinvente le goût de l'eau selon l'impatience de notre soif.

A man often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it -- Jean de La Fontaine

Oh, no reason,” I said. “Where’s Jordan?” “He’s downstairs watching Fontaine do Yoda.” “What?” Please tell me she meant something else.

criminal activity,

linger in the warm, happy memories of Mick.

His whiskers twitched. “I’ll have you know I have plenty of friends, too. Sure, they don’t talk and they live in the forest and some of them try to eat me, but it’s all in good fun. ‘Briar,’ I always say to myself, ‘you can’t be too picky given your unique talents.’ So I’m not.

I shrugged. “Well, he collected dead butterflies. That was pretty weird.

Probably some dead animal in the central air ducts,” Flick grumbled.

was one little boy sitting near the top staring at me in slack-jawed awe. “That,” he said, “was the awesomest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole entire life.

KILL THE SNAKE KILL THE SNAKE KILL THE SNAKE.

Love is powerful. It leaves a mark. And I can only speak for myself, but finding you, knowing you, loving you—it’s marked me for life.

her first day in Paris she can hardly get out of bed. When finally she does, she stands at the window and watches the cats. She does not feel depressed so much as absent. She

Devant l'Opéra, la foule s'était dispersée, il ne restait qu'une dizaine de passants et un petit groupe de viveurs qui buvaient bruyamment dans un coin de la Grand-Place. Je me postai près de la fontaine, restant en selle tandis que les chiens se dispersaient pour chercher la trace olfactive de ma femme. Le temps sembla se suspendre tandis que les bêtes entraient dans les ruelles et en sortaient, flairant des milliers de pistes sans détecter la bonne. La nuit avançait sans qu'ils la repèrent, une rage sourde me tenait droit malgré des relents d'ivresse, l'agressivité des chiens m'enflammait et je me surpris à désirer la mort de Phélie comme j'aurais souhaité celle d'un animal mystique – un éléphant blanc ou un cerf à trois bois –, non seulement pour le plaisir du meurtre, mais en me figurant ce sacrifice comme la métaphore d'un geste plus grand. L'horloge du campanile sonna une heure. Il se mit à tomber une neige pâteuse qui collait aux vêtements, mais fondait sur le pelage ras des mâtins, et la température chuta. Les chiens écumaient, une buée blanchâtre s'exhalait de leur robe rendue moite par l'effort et quand, enfin, le braque halena Phélie et rappela à son côté les quatre autres bêtes, il poussa un hurlement terrible qui effraya les derniers passants. Les pharaons se précipitèrent au devant du grand chien gris, lui ouvrant le chemin comme à un empereur, et l'escadron s'engouffra dans une ruelle étroite où je le suivis avec peine.

subpar

I can’t describe it, but it’s bizarre in a good way. With all of those events, I didn’t realize I was seeing something amazing for the first and last time. And I’m saying that those things, those random, crazy surprises that have nothing to do with life decisions or your past or your future, might be worth sticking around for.” Car

basement, cranked open a faucet, and aimed the nozzle at her naked body, blasting her with ice-cold water. Even then she didn’t scream. She had no scream left in her. “You’re disgusting.” She supposed

What was it that Nog was always quoting, one of Vic Fontaine’s colloquialisms . . . in for the penny, in for the pound? Ro

Bien qu’ils aient joué un rôle capital pendant le siège, on n’a pas sans doute assez insisté sur l’aide précieuse que les chiens de guet ont apportée aux défenseurs du Mont. On le comprendra mieux si l’on observe que, en plus des remparts couvrant la partie est et sud-est du Mont, il fallait aussi surveiller, de nuit surtout pour éviter toute surprise, les escarpements rocheux de l’ouest, et la pente nord, de part et d’autre de l’escalier fortifié de la fontaine Saint-Aubert (le petit bois qui la couvre n’existait pas alors) ; et que, pour la surveillance d’un aussi vaste périmètre, les hommes astreints au guet étaient peu nombreux. C’est pourquoi de tout temps, des chiens de garde, que l’on lâchait la nuit autour du Mont, complétaient les rondes et surveillaient les grèves sur tout le pourtour de l’île. Ces chiens étaient vraisemblablement des dogues. Le document le plus détaillé que nous ayons sur eux est de quelques années postérieur au siège. C’est le mandement que signa Louis XI, après son troisième pèlerinage au Mont en 1473 : « (Le sire du Bouchage) nous a dit et remontré que, pour la garde et sûreté de notre place du Mont-Saint-Michel, on a de tout temps accoutumé avoir et nourrir audit lieu certain nombre de grands chiens, lesquels sont par jour attachés et liés, et de nuit sont menés tous détachés hors de ladite place et à l’entour d’icelle pour, au long de la nuit, servir au guet et garde d’icelle place ; nous avons veu à l’ueil et congneu que la nourriture et entretien desdits chiens est très fort utile et profittable à la garde de la place dudit Mont-Saint-Michel, pour ces causes… avons voulu et octroyé par ces présentes… que le lieutenant dudit seigneur… ayt et praigne dorénavant par chacun an de la somme de 25 livres tournois des deniers de la revenue de notre vicomté d’Avranches… ».

Some philosopher said the darkest place you ever live will be etched forever in your soul and you will look back on those days with a twisted sort of fondness.

Once you gave up and accepted your fate, existence became tolerable because every day wasn’t a reset of a nightmare that wouldn’t end. In

Once it was out there, once the facts were hung on the line for the world to see, that abuse robbed the victim of dignity and the victim suffered twice. Once at the hands of the abuser, and once at the hands of the world. Ashby

These people no doubt became more common in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and judging from La Fontaine, those who tried to cheat death were found primarily among the old: He who most resembles the dead is the most reluctant to die. Eighteenth-century

surrounding

Fontaine. Ro turned to Remzi, grabbed the box from her hand, and pulled out the silver band inside. She opened the device and clamped it around Vic’s arm, then hauled him backward and out through the door. She half expected the singer to vanish as he passed over the threshold, but he didn’t. Ro saw Quark’s eyes widen as Vic Fontaine stepped for the first time onto the deck of Deep Space 9. viii

A world within a world.

So you found yourself needing to go back there to touch the place, see the place. Not to reassure yourself that it was real and that it had occurred, but to observe it from the distance of a safe mind, to marvel that this thing happened to you and you survived.