L Cole Quotes

Elizabeth, With my compliments. You will never get your claws into another one of mine. Rot in hell, L Nïx clasped her hands over her chest, sighing, “He gave you his heart. That’s so romantic. So much better than a candy heart. Those get stuck in the fangs, you know.

Hey, you've still got your endangered hymen. Which means you'll make it to closing credits - I'm s.o.l.

You missed breakfast," Jason announced as Trevor stepped into the large busy kitchen filled with Bradfords and food. "That's fine. I'm not really hungry," he said, barely aware or caring that all activity in the busy kitchen suddenly stopped as every Bradford in the room, even one year old Cole stopped trying to climb onto the counter to get at the large platter of cookies his mother made to stare at him in disbelief.

Contrary to general belief, stars don’t twinkle. There is only one star that sparkles that scientists can agree on. It twinkles so bright, sometimes people mistake it for a UFO. It’s not big, but it stands out. That’s Sirius, and it’s also you. You shine, Baby LeBlanc. So fucking bright sometimes you’re the only thing I see.” - Dean "Ruckus" Cole

I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much that I hated you for a while. And now that I know that you are damaged, I love you even more. Perfect things are not relatable. Unbreakable is fascinating, but not lovable. You’re breakable, Dean Cole. I’m going to do my best to keep you whole.

You’re breakable, Dean Cole. I’m going to do my best to keep you whole.

I’m not leaving. No way in hell,” Cole said, eyes flashing, “am I leaving you again.

Forever starts now, Baby Leblanc. With you.

I called Grace right before I went into the diner. Actually, I called Sam, but Grace answered his phone. “It’s the end,” I said. “I’m going to breakfast with my parents.” “I had the worst dream about you last night,” Grace mused. “Did I go around L.A. biting people? Because that already happened.” “No,” she replied. “You came home.

When you refuse to pay your dues to love, sometimes the price goes up. There’s an inflation, and you end up losing more than you’d bargained.

Some of us find our way with a single light to guide us; others lose themselves even when the star field is as sharp as a neon ceiling. Ethics may not be situational, but feelings are. We learn to adjust, and, over time, the stars we use to guide ourselves come to reside within rather than without.

You only get one life, Luna. One stab at this thing called happiness. Why deprive yourself of things you want just because they weren’t given to you the way you hoped for them to come?

Not to be impolite, but you guys bore me to death. Cole, go tell Vaughn to come here.” Busy scanning the room for Luna, Knight’s neck is still cranned as he answers her. “Damn.” He pats the pockets of his jeans, then checks the pockets of his golden Gucci jacket. “I can’t find it.” “Can’t find what?” Esme blinks. “The memo where I started taking orders from your sorry ass.

Dean ‘Ruckus’ Cole was a different kind of asshole to Baron ‘Vicious’ Spencer. He fucked you over with a polite smile on his face. In that sense, he was the Joker. In his mix of confidence, cockiness, good looks, and money, there was a dash of insanity thrown in. Enough to let you know that he meant every word he said.

He's probably crying while listening to Halsey on repeat like a little bitch." ~Knight Cole~

What makes you feel alive? Dean. Dean Cole makes me feel alive.

A fine layer of ash had blown into the carport, showing a single set of cat prints going from the side of the house to the cat hatch built into my door. People in Minnesota see things like this with snow.

Vrekeners actually exist? L, The King

Now that I know that it can only ever be you, you're going to get better for me so Earth won't explode. Can you do that, Sirius?

I love L.A. It's a great, sprawling, spread-to-hell city that protects us by its sheer size. Four hundred sixty-five square miles. Eleven million beating hearts in Los Angeles County, documented and not. Eleven million. What are the odds? The girl raped beneath the Hollywood sign isn't your sister, the boy back-stroking in a red pool isn't your son, the splatter patterns on the ATM machine are sourceless urban art. We're safe that way. When it happens it's going to happen to someone else.

I feel a brush over my arm where Penn stood just a second ago. It's Knight. And next to Knight stands Vaughn. 'Cole?' Gus twists his lips, glowering. 'What the fuck?' Knight clasps a hand on my shoulder, hitching a shoulder up while lighting a joint. 'The fuck is, you don't fuck with my family and integrity and assume you get out of it in one piece. Or, you know, at all.

People often die from love, and this is a secret we all keep, even from ourselves.

He wasn't Sirius. He was planet Earth. He was oxygen. He was everything.

By a series of calculations which need not be here explained, Colonel Cole has concluded that the individual weights carried within the legions were as follows: Total for road marching 57.21 lbs. Total for approach march 44 lbs. Tactical load in combat zone 33 lbs.

I'm turning my back on Vaughn and Knight without saying goodbye because I know they won't let me go. They'll promise to protect me and fight my battles at school, and a part of me still wants that to happen.

Knight and Vaughn are the closest to each other, practically brothers, which is weird because they are also like fire and ice. Vaughn is a crazy artist with psychotic tendencies, and Knight is the definition of a popular jock. One is Edward Scissorhands; the other is Zac Efron's prettier long-lost brother.

What does Miss LeBlanc have that the rest of the human population doesn't?' 'My heart, Sue,' I said. 'She has my heart.

Reasonable men adapt to the world around them; unreasonable men make the world adapt to them. The world is changed by unreasonable men.

Knight is gorgeous, and not only does he know it, but he would also advertise it on a billboard if it were possible.

There isn’t so much love in the world that you can turn it away when it’s offered.

Prichard's got too much to lose. He can't touch us.' 'Can anyone?' Penn wonders aloud, just as Trent's door opens from the other side. Dean whistles for him to get outside, swinging my baseball bat and parking it over his shoulder. 'Maybe God,' I answer curtly. 'Even that's debatable.' Dean snickers.

I love you, Knight Cole. More than anything. Maybe even more than myself. But I don’t trust you with my heart. And when you hurt me like this, I feel little and vindictive. So vindictive, you shouldn’t trust me with yours. Whatever it is, we need to kill it before it kills us, you understand? We can’t be together.

He was pungently masculine and intimidating in his looks, but that was not what made me recognize him immediately. It was what rolled off of him in dangerous quantities, the menace and ruggedness. He was a dark knight made of coarse material. Cruel in his silence and punishing in his confidence. I'd only met him once, at a barbecue at Dean Cole's house a few weeks ago, and we hadn't spoken a word to each other. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone. Trent Rexroth.

He was rowed down from the north in a leather skiff manned by a crew of trolls. His fur cape was caked with candle wax, his brow stained blue by wine - though the latter was seldom noticed due to the fox mask he wore at-all times. A quill in his teeth, a solitary teardrop a-squirm in his palm, he was the young poet prince of Montreal, handsome, immaculate, searching for sturdier doors to nail his poignant verses on. In Manhattan, grit drifted into his ink bottle. In Vienna, his spice box exploded. On the Greek island of Hydra, Orpheus came to him at dawn astride a transparent donkey and restrung his cheap guitar. From that moment on, he shamelessly and willingly exposed himself to the contagion of music. To the secretly religious curiosity of the traveler was added the openly foolhardy dignity of the troubadour. By the time he returned to America, songs were working in him like bees in an attic. Connoisseurs developed cravings for his nocturnal honey, despite the fact that hearts were occasionally stung. Now, thirty years later, as society staggers towards the millennium - nailing and screeching at the while, like an orangutan with a steak knife in its side - Leonard Cohen, his vision, his gift, his perseverance, are finally getting their due. It may be because he speaks to this wounded zeitgeist with particular eloquence and accuracy, it may be merely cultural time-lag, another example of the slow-to-catch-on many opening their ears belatedly to what the few have been hearing all along. In any case, the sparkle curtain has shredded, the boogie-woogie gate has rocked loose from its hinges, and here sits L. Cohen at an altar in the garden, solemnly enjoying new-found popularity and expanded respect. From the beginning, his musical peers have recognized Cohen´s ability to establish succinct analogies among life´s realities, his talent for creating intimate relationships between the interior world of longing and language and the exterior world of trains and violins. Even those performers who have neither "covered" his compositions nor been overtly influenced by them have professed to admire their artfulness: the darkly delicious melodies - aural bouquets of gardenia and thistle - that bring to mind an electrified, de-Germanized Kurt Weill; the playfully (and therefore dangerously) mournful lyrics that can peel the apple of love and the peach of lust with a knife that cuts all the way to the mystery, a layer Cole Porter just could`t expose. It is their desire to honor L. Cohen, songwriter, that has prompted a delegation of our brightest artists to climb, one by one, joss sticks smoldering, the steep and salty staircase in the Tower of Song.

I start to turn, but stop and lean back over the table, snatching the Snickers bar and placing it in front of her. “Just saying.” I see Humphrey cover his mouth, clearly getting my joke about the commercial. ‘You’re not yourself when you’re hungry.’ Cole reaches for my arm and nearly pulls me out of the room. Once the door is closed, he bursts out laughing.

He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. He raises them to his mouth, kissing our joined hands. Tears stream down my face as I take in that he’s actually standing right here in front of me. My Cole, my love, my reason for living is back.

Era come il sole sulle palpebre e il profumo del mare in bocca quando succhi l'aria tra i denti.

Una predilezione per l’oscurità, non per la luce.

Parce que je l'aimais toujours. Même si lui ne m'aimait plus

Et puis, si le mien se brise, le tien aussi. Ils battent à l'unisson

The sky was full of stars against all odds. You couldn't really see shit from The Strip, but that night, you could. You could because she was there.

In L.A., next to riots and earthquakes, fires are our largest spectator sport.

There is great audacity in the willingness to change, more than a little optimism, and a serious dose of courage. It

Vrekeners actually exist? L, The King

York spoke to her.” Keith makes a face as Cole's expression hardens.

There won't be a next Rosie. And there won't be another story like ours. This is it, Rose LeBlanc. And this is us. If there is no you, then there is no me.

Because Knight refuses to win the game. Penn is trying to kill Las Juntas' chance to win so he can save me, but Knight doesn't let him because he knows he deserves it.

My dream is that Cole gets punished for mouthing off the way he usually does. And his punishment is that he has to feed the chickens for the rest of his life. Everyone has to have a dream — right?

Mom and Dad clap. Bailey jumps up and down. Knight gives us a thumbs-up, and Vaughns rolls his eyes but smiles. Luna, Addy, Harper, and Camilo look at us likek they've won something. Happy in our happiness. And that's what good friends and families do. They pick you up and pull you out of the mud of your own mistakes. And when you're not the best version of yourself? Well, they're still there, waiting, because we're all fucking human.

Officer Pike took off his dark glasses, and looked at her. She felt her breath catch. His eyes were the most liquid blue, the blue of the sky over the high deserts of Sonora, the blue of the ocean where it has no bottom and is infinitely clean. But it wasn’t the blue that stopped her breath. For just a moment when the glasses were first pulled away, she could have sworn that those eyes were filled with the most terrible and long-endured pain. Then the pain was gone and there was only the blue.

I always had a soft spot for this girl, and it seemed like the more she hated me, the more I wanted to prove to her that it was always us. That if I believed in that bullshit of two people who were meant to be with each other, it was because we actually were.

So, when Cole was two and I was four, we moved to Goshen Falls. Lucky us! The whole town is three blocks long. We have a cute little farm with a cute little farmhouse. And even though Mom and Dad are computer programmers — not farmers — we have a backyard full of chickens.

The Men’s Central Jail is an anonymous building behind Central Station, less than ten minutes from the Criminal Courts Building in downtown L.A. I parked in a neat, modern underground parking structure, then walked up steps to a very nice plaza. Nicely dressed people were sipping lattes and strolling about the plaza, and no one seemed to mind that the plaza adjoined a place housing felons and gangbangers and the wild men of an otherwise civil society. Perhaps because this is L.A. and the jail is so nice. There’s a fountain in the plaza, and it’s very nice, too.

You mean Savi is on that plane by herself?” “Let it go,” Daniel warns. “No! Someone should be with her. She’s facing The American and Lynn! Cole, you should be there, not hiding behind your desk.” Cole drops the thick folder, making John jump. “You don’t think I want to be there, Mark? You don’t think it’s turning me inside out that my girl is a state away and only an arm’s length from the people who tried to kill her? I was ordered to stay behind and do my job. I was ordered to leave for Mexico when all I want to do is be in that courtroom with her. I’m not hiding. I’m following orders since I didn’t last time.

You c-can’t be looking at m-me like that, b-babe,” I rasped out, trying like fuck to rein myself in. “Wh… why?” “B-b-because you l-looking at me like that is t-telling me you fuckin’ wanna be in my b-bed… W-want me to show you how f-fuckin’ good you should f-feel taking my cock. W-w-want me to fuck you ’t-til you can’t walk.

That Sunday, the sun floated bright and hot over the Los Angeles basin, pushing people to the beaches and the parks and into backyard pools to escape the heat. The air buzzed with the nervous palsy it gets when the wind freight-trains in from the deserts, dry as bone, and cooking the hillsides into tar-filled kindling that can snap into flames hot enough to melt an auto body.

I-I’ll lay it on the l-line for you, b-babe. I t-trade illegal weapons for c-cash and d-drink far too m-much. I f-fuck sluts regularly and d-don’t commit to no one f-for long, maybe n-n-never will.” I made sure I had her full attention for the last part. “I-I’ve killed p-p-people. I-I’ve even l-liked it, and”—I knew I was bringing the final death blow—“I’ll d-do it again. Y-you want someone g-g-good to take c-care of you. I-it ain’t me, babe.

When a p-person dies, they g-go to the underworld where they’ll b-be judged on their lives and s-s-sent to either the Elysian F-Fields, which is like h-heaven, I sup-suppose. The river of for-forgetfulness, Lethe, where a soul d-drinks to forget their l-life, enabling them to be re-reborn. Or if a soul has l-lived a b-bad life, they’d be sent to T-Tartarus, which is like what y-you think of as Hell, the worst p-place p-possible. Hades r-rules over the whole thing, m-making sure it all g-goes r-right.

They’re just waiting for nightfall. Then you’re s.o.l., sister. There’s only one other chick in the entire camp. But she’s the chief redneck’s daughter, so they consider her off-limits, kind of f a Smurfette situation.” He exhaled, grinning up at the slats of the cage roof. “Smoking body on that one—but shy a few teeth. Still, I’d do Hickette with a flag over her face.” “Excuse me?” Matthew chuckled. “Do her for his country.” “Matthew!” I cried, frowning at him. I’d thought of him as more . . . innocent.

C'est un bocal de souvenirs, a-t-elle expliqué. Grâce à lui, tu te rappelleras les baisers qui t'ont rendue heureuse, ceux auxquels tu voudras repenser quand tu seras vieille, comme moi. Les plus beaux. Ceux qui t'ont fait sourire. Chaque fois que le garçon que tu aimes t'offre un baiser, ouvre le bocal et attrape un cœur. Ecris l'endroit où il t'a embrassée. Quand tu seras grand-mère, tu raconteras tes aventures à tes petits-enfants, comme je l'ai fait avec toi. Tu auras un bocal à trésors avec les mille plus beaux baisers de ta vie.

anthrapologize FW 151.7 v. Express regret or apologize for the science of man or anthropology. So many mistakes, unintentional and sometimes not, have been made in the study of human origins and development, especially racial, along with customs and beliefs, that some apologies are needed.

painapple FW 167.15 & 246.29 n. 1. An apple that causes suffering or pain.

Cum altfel putea rezista până avea să-l vadă din nou pe Daniel? îşi încleşta din nou mâna pe medalionul de la gât, care închidea în el amintirile unei vieţi. Amintirile ei, după cum îi spusese Daniel, pe care ea trebuia să le aducă la lumină. Nu ştia despre ce era vorba, tot aşa cum nu ştia unde o ducea domnul Cole. Dar se simţise parte din ceva în capelă, în acea dimineaţă, în timp ce stătea lângă Arriane, Gabbe şi Daniel. Nu se simţise pierdută, speriată sau autosuficientă… ci i se păruse că era preţuită, nu numai de Daniel, ci de ei toţi.

langscape”   L is for “langscape,” A landscape in words, Painted by writers, Language seen and heard.

In 2004, two economists at UCLA, Harold L. Cole and Lee E. Ohanian, conducted a major study that concluded that the New Deal had in fact prolonged the recession by seven years.

We did eight hundred push-ups every goddamned day, some days over two hundred chins, and they ran us. Christ, we ran ten miles every morning and another five at night, and sometimes even more than that. We weren’t big guys, like badass football linemen or any of that, you know, Rambo with all those pansy protein-shake muscles bulging. We were skinny kids, mostly, all stripped down and hungry, but, hell, we could carry hundred-pound packs, four hundred rounds, and a poodle-popper uphill at a run all goddamned day. You know what we were? We were wolves. Lean and mean, and you definitely did not want us on your ass. We were fuckin’ dangerous, man. That’s what they wanted. Recon. That’s what we wanted, too.” —excerpt from Young Men at War: A Case by Case Study of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, by Patricia Barber, Ph.D. M.F.C.C. Duke University Press, 1986

The man stared at him for a time, and then said something that John Chen would recall from time to time for the rest of his life, and wonder what the man had meant, and why he had said it. “Never turn your back on love, John.” The

The air buzzed with the nervous palsy it gets when the wind freight-trains in from the deserts, dry as bone, and cooking the hillsides into tar-filled kindling that can snap into flames hot enough to melt an auto body.

Fiona Zedde’s entire body of work), and Alyssa Cole’s body of work (Once Ghosted, Twice Shy and How to Find a Princess). There is sporadic representation of bi Black women, such as Talia Hibbert’s Take a Hint, Dani Brown. The self-published options, however, are broader. There’s Chencia C. Higgins’s Things Hoped For and Consolation Gifts, Meka James’s Being Hospitable, J. Nichole’s A Girl Like Me, Christina C. Jones’s Something Like Love, and G. L. Tomas’s Wander This World and The Love Bet.

langwedge FW 73.1 n. Spoken or written speech or language used to split or separate like a wedge.

It was surgery for a duodenal ulcer that finally caused his death or, as the Wake puts it, “when the angel of death kicks the bucket of life

he “went under the grass quilt on us.” I may be so far off base as to be out of the ballpark, but with “sinflute and dropped him” I hear an echo of, or at least the meter of, the Duke of Wellington’s order for the last charge at Waterloo, “Up guards and at ‘em!

Vico believed that it was God’s voice heard through thunder that brought the third or human age to an end and frightened humanity back into caves where the cycle of ages began anew. There are ten thunder words in Finnegans Wake, nine with 100 letters and the tenth with 101 letters. The first thunder word begins “bababa…” in imitation of thunder with the idea that stuttering signals God’s guilt for messing up the creation business in so horrid a manner. (See thuthunder.)

McHugh gives as references here “annyma roner” as “Ahriman,” the “Zoroastrian principle of evil” and the song “Little Annie Rooney,” and “moother of mine” as the song “Mother of Mine.

hystry FW 535.18 n. A record of the past or history presented with unrestrained emotion or hysteria.

horrhorrd FW 378.7 v. Listened to or heard in great fear or horror. (“oversense he horrhorrd his name in thuthunder”) Joyce had a great horror of thunder and avoided cities that were known to have many thunderstorms.

McHugh also identifies the Insuppressible as an antiparnellite newspaper. With these two connections, any breaking story confirming Parnell’s approval or support of the Phoenix Park murders would have instantly stopped the Insuppressible’s presses, presenting something of a paradox.

inuendation FW 194.32 n. A flood or inundation of insinuation or innuendo. HCE certainly suffers from an “inuendation” after his midnight encounter with the Cad in Phoenix Park. Even though the resulting trials prove nothing definite, the “inuendation” still remains, and HCE continues to suffer guilt simply from accusation. (“all waived to a point and then all inuendation”) (See contrawatchwise

inwader FW 581.3 n. One who enters a country with force for conquest or an invader who walks through shallow water or wades ashore during the invasion. The most famous “inwader” of all must be General Douglas McArthur who, after being driven from the Philippines by the Japanese, retook the country after having to wade from a landing craft to the shore, proclaiming, “People of the Philippines, I have returned.

Cole learned to shrug his shoulders each time and walk away with a smile on his face when inside, he crumbled a little more.

malestimated FW 125.21 v. Ill or badly and calculated approximately or estimated. (“still today insufficiently malestimated notesnatcher”) The projected budget that an American president sends each year to Congress is invariably “malestimated.” This is especially true for the cost of our wars.

With all memorials and monuments it’s wise to take Stanislaw Lee’s advice: “When smashing the monuments, save the pedestals—they always come in handy later.

crosskisses FW 111.17 n. xxx’s at the end of a letter to signify touches with the lips as a sign of love or kisses. (“must now close it with fondest to the twoinns with four crosskisses for holy paul holey corner holipoli whollyisland pee ess from”) These “crosskisses” come at the end of one of a number of versions of the famous letter from Boston that the hen pecks out of the kitchen midden and even appear much later in Finnegans Wake with “X.X.X.X.” (See anomorous.) cruelfiction FW 192.19 n. 1. Fiction that delights in causing pain and suffering to to the extent that readers feel they have been put to death by being fastened to a cross, becoming victims of the cruel torture of crucifixion. Most critics have labeled Finnegans Wake as a prime example of “cruelfiction.” Readers will have their own candidates for this label, usually novels they were assigned to read for a book report in high school. 2. Fiction that’s subject is cruelty, such as almost any novel by the Marquis de Sade or short stories and novels that deal honestly with the treatment of Native Americans by the government of the United States. (“O, you were excruciated, in honour bound to the cross of your own cruelfiction!”)

cropse FW 55.8 n. In A Guide Through “Finnegans Wake,” Edmund Epstein writes that “’corpse’ combines with ‘crops’ to make a wholly new and richly evocative contra-dictory word, ‘cropse,’ combining the idea of death with resurrection.” This is the grand theme of the Wake, falling and rising, decline and renewal, death and rebirth. (“on the bunk of our breadwinning lies the cropse of our seedfather”) Epstein adds that “’seedfather’ does not create a wholly new word, for both elements of ‘seedfather’ are already existent words, with a double meaning contained in ‘seed’; only the combination is novel.

combarative FW 140.33 adj. One who likes to fight or is combative regarding how something is alike or different, that is over comparative issues. Political talk shows featuring “combarative” hosts of both liberal and conservative persuasions make for some argumentatively entertaining evenings on television. (“after all the errears and erroriboose of combarative embattled history”)

Oscar Wilde revealed his discovery that “alcohol, when taken in sufficient quantities, produces all the effects of intoxication.

baallad FW 593.15 n. A poem, song, or ballad that tells a story about young sheep or a lamb. The nursery rhyme about Mary’s little lamb that broke the rules by following her to school is perhaps the most famous “baallad” of them all, although the “baallad” about the black sheep that had three bags full of wool is equally well known. An English expression for a nice, sweet young person is a “baa-lamb.”(“And let Billey Feghin be baallad out of his hummuluation.”)

bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk! FW 3.15-17 n. Onomatopoeia for the sound of thunder. This is the first of 10 thunder words in Finnegans Wake, it and eight others having 100 letters and the 10th having 101 letters, making 1,001 letters that suggest the Arabian Nights or, in Wakese, “this scherzarade of one’s thousand and one nightinesses.” As a numerical palindrome, 1001 suggests the circular system of Vico and the Wake’s never-ending, never-beginning stylistic structure. In Vico’s system, the Divine Age is the first of three ages in which humanity hears the voice of God in thunder and, driven by fear (“the fright of light”) to hide in caves, pray “Loud, hear us!” “Who in the name of thunder’d ever belevin you were that bolt?” In keeping with this theme, the first thunder word is made up of many words similar to thunder in various languages: “kamminarro” (Japanese kaminari); “tuonn” (Italian tuono); “bronnto” (Greek Bronte); “thurnuk” (Gaelic tornach); “awnska” (Swedish aska); “tonner” (French tonnerre and Latin tonare); “tova” (Portuguese trovao); and “ton” (Old Rumanian tun).

(“—I’ll gie ye credit for simmence more if ye’ll be lymphing. Our four avunculusts.”) In this instance the “four avunculusts” are the four evangelists Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, know in Finnegans Wake as “Mamalujo.

In Ulysses Haines remarks, “But, I say, Mulligan, you do make strong tea, don’t you.” Buck Mulligan replies in an old woman’s voice, “When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I makes water I makes water.

The Liffey was said to be the color of tea from the dumpings of the dye-houses on its banks, and Joyce asked Faber and Faber, the publishers of his Anna Livia Plurabelle book, to print the cover in brown to match the color of the Liffey.

Brandy forwarded a freshly penned limerick just emailed to him by the distinguished Wakean John Gordon: He left her the secondbest bed Before lying down with the dead; ‘Twas Will’s way to trumpet His Anne was a strumpet And to rue that the two of them wed. It seemed a spooky coincidence coming so suddenly after my writing about what is certainly an obscure subject, but then I remembered G. K. Chesterton wrote that “Coincidences are spiritual puns,” and somehow it made a strange sort of sense, somewhat like Finnegans Wake.

abcedminded FW 18.17 n. Alphabet-minded or interested in the origin of the letters of the alphabet and their uses in forming words. This suggests an Old English word for alphabet—abecede. The “abcedminded” are apt to become lexicographers or interested in the art of lexicography. With a slight stretch, absent-minded comes to mind, something literary and scholarly types are typically portrayed as being.

abnihilisation FW 353.22 n. From nothing, the annihilation or complete destruction of something back to nothing. Joyce maintained that while he created Ulysses out of next to nothing, he was creating Finnegans Wake out of nothing. The Latin ab nihil for “from nothing” and the philosophical meaning of nihilism as the denial of all existence come into play here.

acknuckledownedgment FW 344.8 n. The admission or acknowledgement that one has worked hard and earnestly or knuckled down in achieving an objective. There is also the suggestion that knuckles came into play in the process, hinting at a fistfight or at least some sort of battle. On the evening of November 4, 2008, John McCain was gracious in giving Barack Obama a sincere “acknuckledownedgment” for his successful presidential campaign.

apuckalips FW 455.1 n. The revelation of a cataclysmic upheaval or Apocalypse when you can pucker up your lips and kiss your ass goodbye. (“nor homemade hurricanes in our Cohortyard, no cupahurling nor apuckalips nor no puncheon jodelling nor no nothing”) Punch and Judy appear here.

applegate FW 69.21 n. Eve and Adam’s fall in the Garden of Eden after eating the forbidden (See forebitten.) fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, popularly thought of as an apple. This is one of those instances in which Joyce came up with a term that was later to become widely used in popular culture. Instances include Watergate, Contragate, and Monicagate, though in Monicagate the term “gate” assumes an alluded meaning that would require an “R” rating. (“everything was got up for the purpose he put an applegate on the place by no means as some pretext a bedstead”) It’s been said that the real problem in Eden was not with the apple on the tree but with the pair on the ground.

annuysed FW 342.28 v. Entertained or amused in a way that also makes one troubled or annoyed. We are more often than not “annuysed” watching America’s Congress at work.

Does the Great Colinski have a first name?” “Royal. Such a name, don’t you think? Royal Colinski from East L.A.” The burner vibrated in my pocket, but I was learning too much to stop. “Why

You were right, you know—coming here was completely crazy. It was irrational. To think I’d choose to go to a town where there’s no mall, much less a day spa, and one restaurant that doesn’t have a menu? Please. No medical technology, ambulance service or local police—how is it I thought that would be easier, less stressful? I almost slid off the mountain on my way into town!” “Ah… Mel…” “We don’t even have cable, no cell phone signal most of the time. And there’s not a single person here who can admire my Cole Haan boots which, by the way, are starting to look like crap from traipsing around forests and farms. Did you know that any critical illness or injury has to be airlifted out of here? A person would be crazy to find this relaxing. Renewing.” She laughed. “The state I was in, when I was leaving L.A., I thought I absolutely had to escape all the challenges. It never occurred to me that challenge would be good for me. A completely new challenge.” “Mel…” “When I told Jack I was pregnant, after promising him I had the birth control taken care of, he should have said, ‘I’m outta here, babe.’ But you know what he said? He said, ‘I have to have you and the baby in my life, and if you can’t stay here, I’ll go anywhere.’” She sniffed a little and a tear rolled down her cheek. “When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is check to see if there are deer in the yard. Then I wonder what Preacher’s in the mood to fix for dinner. Jack’s usually already gone back to town—he likes splitting logs in the early morning—half the town wakes up to the sound of his ax striking wood. I see him five or ten times through the day and he always looks at me like we’ve been apart for a year. If I have a patient in labor, he stays up all night, just in case I need something. And when there are no patients at night, when he holds me before I fall asleep, bad TV reception is the last thing on my mind. “Am I staying here? I came here because I believed I’d lost everything that mattered, and ended up finding everything I’ve ever wanted in the world. Yeah, Joey. I’m staying. Jack’s here. Besides, I belong here now. I belong to them. They belong to me.” *