Jingle And Mingle Quotes

Reminded of favorite poem by Wendy Cope which goes: At Christmas little children sing and merry bells jingle. The cold winter air makes our hands and faces tingle. And happy families go to church and cheerily they mingle, And the whole business is unbelievably dreadful if you're single.

Father Pierre, why did you stay on in this colonial Campari-land, where the clink of glasses mingles with the murmur of a million mosquitoes, where waterfalls and whiskey wash away the worries of a world-weary whicker, where gin and tonics jingle in a gyroscopic jubilee of something beginning with J?

And from right to left along the lighted shore moved a wild and gorgeous apparition of a woman. She walked with measured steps, draped in striped and fringed cloths, treading the earth proudly, with a slight jingle and flash of barbarous ornaments. She carried her head high; her hair was done in the shape of a helmet; she had brass leggings to the knee, brass wire gauntlets to the elbow, a crimson spot on her tawny cheek, innumerable necklaces of glass beads on her neck; bizarre things, charms, gifts of witchmen, that hung about her, glittered and trembled at every step. She must have had the value of several elephant tusks upon her. She was savage and superb, wild-eyed and magnificent; there was something ominous and stately in her deliberate progress. And in the hush that had fallen suddenly upon the whole sorrowful land, the immense wilderness, the colossal body of the fecund and mysterious life seemed to look at her, pensive, as though it had been looking at the image of its own tenebrous and passionate soul. Her face had a tragic and fierce aspect of wild sorrow and of dumb pain mingled with the fear of some struggling, halt-shaped resolve. She stood looking at us without a stir, and like the wilderness itself, with an air of brooding over an inscoutable purpose. A whole minute passed, and then she made a step forward. There was a low jingle, a glint of yellow metal, a sway of fringed draperies, and she stopped as if her heart had failed her. She looked at us all as if her life had depended upon the unswerving steadiness of her glance

A few fetid camphene lamps, hung at dreary intervals along the walls, exhale a gentle lamp-black shower upon the air, and the aromal peculiarities of the place are completed by a mingling of odors from the stable and the smoke of American cigars. The floor is slippery with mud and tobacco juice, and about half filled with a pretty hard-looking set. A green rag runs along the lower end of the room, and at one corner sit two men, one scraping a villainous fiddle, and the other punishing a rheumatic piano. The music changes to a slow and plaintive air, a little bell jingles, and up goes the rag. We refer to our programme and ascertain that the tableau in order is "Susannah in the Bath." The same brawny female, who has already appeared as Venus, Psyche, and the Greek Slave, is now seated as Susannah in the bath, with her face and frontage to the audience. A light gauzy drapery is held in her right hand and falls in a kind of demi-curtain before her knees - otherwise she is in puribus naturalibus.