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Aspern Papers, The

 IX

I left Venice the next morning, as soon as I learned that the old lady had not succumbed, as I feared at the moment, to the shock I had given her—the shock I may also say she had given me. How in the world could I have supposed her capable of getting out of bed by herself? I failed to see Miss Tita before going; I only saw the donna, whom I entrusted with a note for her younger mistress. In this note I mentioned that I should be absent but for a few days. I went to Treviso, to Bassano, to Castelfranco; I took walks and drives and looked at musty old churches with ill-lighted pictures and spent hours seated smoking at the doors of cafes, where there were flies and yellow curtains, on the shady side of sleepy little squares. In spite of these pastimes, which were mechanical and perfunctory, I scantily enjoyed my journey: there was too strong a taste of the disagreeable in my life. I had been devilish awkward, as the young men say, to be found by Miss Bordereau in the dead of night examining the attachment of her bureau; and it had not been less so to have to believe for a good many hours afterward that it was highly probable I had killed her. In writing to Miss Tita I attempted to minimize these irregularities; but as she gave me no word of answer I could not know what impression I made upon her. It rankled in my mind that I had been called a publishing scoundrel, for certainly I did publish and certainly I had not been very delicate. There was a moment when I stood convinced that the only way to make up for this latter fault was to take myself away altogether on the instant; to sacrifice my hopes and relieve the two poor women forever of the oppression of my intercourse. Then I reflected that I had better try a short absence first, for I must already have had a sense (unexpressed and dim) that in disappearing completely it would not be merely my own hopes that I should condemn to extinction. It would perhaps be sufficient if I stayed away long enough to give the elder lady time to think she was rid of me. That she would wish to be rid of me after this (if I was not rid of her) was now not to be doubted: that nocturnal scene would have cured her of the disposition to put up with my company for the sake of my dollars. I said to myself that after all I could not abandon Miss Tita, and I continued to say this even while I observed that she quite failed to comply with my earnest request (I had given her two or three addresses, at little towns, post restante) that she would let me know how she was getting on. I would have made my servant write to me but that he was unable to manage a pen. It struck me there was a kind of scorn in Miss Tita's silence (little disdainful as she had ever been), so that I was uncomfortable and sore. I had scruples about going back and yet I had others about not doing so, for I wanted to put myself on a better footing. The end of it was that I did return to Venice on the twelfth day; and as my gondola gently bumped against Miss Bordereau's steps a certain palpitation of suspense told me that I had done myself a violence in holding off so long.

I had faced about so abruptly that I had not telegraphed to my servant. He was therefore not at the station to meet me, but he poked out his head from an upper window when I reached the house. "They have put her into the earth, la vecchia," he said to me in the lower hall, while he shouldered my valise; and he grinned and almost winked, as if he knew I should be pleased at the news.

"She's dead!" I exclaimed, giving him a very different look.

"So it appears, since they have buried her."

"It's all over? When was the funeral?"

"The other yesterday. But a funeral you could scarcely call it, signore; it was a dull little passeggio of two gondolas. Poveretta!" the man continued, referring apparently to Miss Tita. His conception of funerals was apparently that they were mainly to amuse the living.

I wanted to know about Miss Tita—how she was and where she was—but I asked him no more questions till we had got upstairs. Now that the fact had met me I took a bad view of it, especially of the idea that poor Miss Tita had had to manage by herself after the end. What did she know about arrangements, about the steps to take in such a case? Poveretta indeed! I could only hope that the doctor had given her assistance and that she had not been neglected by the old friends of whom she had told me, the little band of the faithful whose fidelity consisted in coming to the house once a year. I elicited from my servant that two old ladies and an old gentleman had in fact rallied round Miss Tita and had supported her (they had come for her in a gondola of their own) during the journey to the cemetery, the little red-walled island of tombs which lies to the north of the town, on the way to Murano. It appeared from these circumstances that the Misses Bordereau were Catholics, a discovery I had never made, as the old woman could not go to church and her niece, so far as I perceived, either did not or went only to early mass in the parish, before I was stirring. Certainly even the priests respected their seclusion; I had never caught the whisk of the curato's skirt. That evening, an hour later, I sent my servant down with five words written on a card, to ask Miss Tita if she would see me for a few moments. She was not in the house, where he had sought her, he told me when he came back, but in the garden walking about to refresh herself and gathering flowers. He had found her there and she would be very happy to see me.

I went down and passed half an hour with poor Miss Tita. She had always had a look of musty mourning (as if she were wearing out old robes of sorrow that would not come to an end), and in this respect there was no appreciable change in her appearance. But she evidently had been crying, crying a great deal—simply, satisfyingly, refreshingly, with a sort of primitive, retarded sense of loneliness and violence. But she had none of the formalism or the self-consciousness of grief, and I was almost surprised to see her standing there in the first dusk with her hands full of flowers, smiling at me with her reddened eyes. Her white face, in the frame of her mantilla, looked longer, leaner than usual. I had had an idea that she would be a good deal disgusted with me—would consider that I ought to have been on the spot to advise her, to help her; and, though I was sure there was no rancor in her composition and no great conviction of the importance of her affairs, I had prepared myself for a difference in her manner, for some little injured look, half-familiar, half-estranged, which should say to my conscience, "Well, you are a nice person to have professed things!" But historic truth compels me to declare that Tita Bordereau's countenance expressed unqualified pleasure in seeing her late aunt's lodger. That touched him extremely, and he thought it simplified his situation until he found it did not. I was as kind to her that evening as I knew how to be, and I walked about the garden with her for half an hour. There was no explanation of any sort between us; I did not ask her why she had not answered my letter. Still less did I repeat what I had said to her in that communication; if she chose to let me suppose that she had forgotten the position in which Miss Bordereau surprised me that night and the effect of the discovery on the old woman I was quite willing to take it that way: I was grateful to her for not treating me as if I had killed her aunt.

We strolled and strolled and really not much passed between us save the recognition of her bereavement, conveyed in my manner and in a visible air that she had of depending on me now, since I let her see that I took an interest in her. Miss Tita had none of the pride that makes a person wish to preserve the look of independence; she did not in the least pretend that she knew at present what would become of her. I forebore to touch particularly on that, however, for I certainly was not prepared to say that I would take charge of her. I was cautious; not ignobly, I think, for I felt that her knowledge of life was so small that in her unsophisticated vision there would be no reason why—since I seemed to pity her—I should not look after her. She told me how her aunt had died, very peacefully at the last, and how everything had been done afterward by the care of her good friends (fortunately, thanks to me, she said, smiling, there was money in the house; and she repeated that when once the Italians like you they are your friends for life); and when we had gone into this she asked me about my giro, my impressions, the places I had seen. I told her what I could, making it up partly, I am afraid, as in my depression I had not seen much; and after she had heard me she exclaimed, quite as if she had forgotten her aunt and her sorrow, "Dear, dear, how much I should like to do such things—to take a little journey!" It came over me for the moment that I ought to propose some tour, say I would take her anywhere she liked; and I remarked at any rate that some excursion—to give her a change—might be managed: we would think of it, talk it over. I said never a word to her about the Aspern documents; asked no questions as to what she had ascertained or what had otherwise happened with regard to them before Miss Bordereau's death. It was not that I was not on pins and needles to know, but that I thought it more decent not to betray my anxiety so soon after the catastrophe. I hoped she herself would say something, but she never glanced that way, and I thought this natural at the time. Later however, that night, it occurred to me that her silence was somewhat strange; for if she had talked of my movements, of anything so detached as the Giorgione at Castelfranco, she might have alluded to what she could easily remember was in my mind. It was not to be supposed that the emotion produced by her aunt's death had blotted out the recollection that I was interested in that lady's relics, and I fidgeted afterward as it came to me that her reticence might very possibly mean simply that nothing had been found. We separated in the garden (it was she who said she must go in); now that she was alone in the rooms I felt that (judged, at any rate, by Venetian ideas) I was on rather a different footing in regard to visiting her there. As I shook hands with her for goodnight I asked her if she had any general plan—had thought over what she had better do. "Oh, yes, oh, yes, but I haven't settled anything yet," she replied quite cheerfully. Was her cheerfulness explained by the impression that I would settle for her?

I was glad the next morning that we had neglected practical questions, for this gave me a pretext for seeing her again immediately. There was a very practical question to be touched upon. I owed it to her to let her know formally that of course I did not expect her to keep me on as a lodger, and also to show some interest in her own tenure, what she might have on her hands in the way of a lease. But I was not destined, as it happened, to converse with her for more than an instant on either of these points. I sent her no message; I simply went down to the sala and walked to and fro there. I knew she would come out; she would very soon discover I was there. Somehow I preferred not to be shut up with her; gardens and big halls seemed better places to talk. It was a splendid morning, with something in the air that told of the waning of the long Venetian summer; a freshness from the sea which stirred the flowers in the garden and made a pleasant draught in the house, less shuttered and darkened now than when the old woman was alive. It was the beginning of autumn, of the end of the golden months. With this it was the end of my experiment—or would be in the course of half an hour, when I should really have learned that the papers had been reduced to ashes. After that there would be nothing left for me but to go to the station; for seriously (and as it struck me in the morning light) I could not linger there to act as guardian to a piece of middle-aged female helplessness. If she had not saved the papers wherein should I be indebted to her? I think I winced a little as I asked myself how much, if she HAD saved them, I should have to recognize and, as it were, to reward such a courtesy. Might not that circumstance after all saddle me with a guardianship? If this idea did not make me more uncomfortable as I walked up and down it was because I was convinced I had nothing to look to. If the old woman had not destroyed everything before she pounced upon me in the parlor she had done so afterward.

It took Miss Tita rather longer than I had expected to guess that I was there; but when at last she came out she looked at me without surprise. I said to her that I had been waiting for her, and she asked why I had not let her know. I was glad the next day that I had checked myself before remarking that I had wished to see if a friendly intuition would not tell her: it became a satisfaction to me that I had not indulged in that rather tender joke. What I did say was virtually the truth—that I was too nervous, since I expected her now to settle my fate.

"Your fate?" said Miss Tita, giving me a queer look; and as she spoke I noticed a rare change in her. She was different from what she had been the evening before—less natural, less quiet. She had been crying the day before and she was not crying now, and yet she struck me as less confident. It was as if something had happened to her during the night, or at least as if she had thought of something that troubled her—something in particular that affected her relations with me, made them more embarrassing and complicated. Had she simply perceived that her aunt's not being there now altered my position?

"I mean about our papers. ARE there any? You must know now."

"Yes, there are a great many; more than I supposed." I was struck with the way her voice trembled as she told me this.

"Do you mean that you have got them in there—and that I may see them?"

"I don't think you can see them," said Miss Tita with an extraordinary expression of entreaty in her eyes, as if the dearest hope she had in the world now was that I would not take them from her. But how could she expect me to make such a sacrifice as that after all that had passed between us? What had I come back to Venice for but to see them, to take them? My delight in learning they were still in existence was such that if the poor woman had gone down on her knees to beseech me never to mention them again I would have treated the proceeding as a bad joke. "I have got them but I can't show them," she added.

"Not even to me? Ah, Miss Tita!" I groaned, with a voice of infinite remonstrance and reproach.

She colored, and the tears came back to her eyes; I saw that it cost her a kind of anguish to take such a stand but that a dreadful sense of duty had descended upon her. It made me quite sick to find myself confronted with that particular obstacle; all the more that it appeared to me I had been extremely encouraged to leave it out of account. I almost considered that Miss Tita had assured me that if she had no greater hindrance than that—! "You don't mean to say you made her a deathbed promise? It was precisely against your doing anything of that sort that I thought I was safe. Oh, I would rather she had burned the papers outright than that!"

"No, it isn't a promise," said Miss Tita.

"Pray what is it then?"

She hesitated and then she said, "She tried to burn them, but I prevented it. She had hid them in her bed."

"In her bed?"

"Between the mattresses. That's where she put them when she took them out of the trunk. I can't understand how she did it, because Olimpia didn't help her. She tells me so, and I believe her. My aunt only told her afterward, so that she shouldn't touch the bed—anything but the sheets. So it was badly made," added Miss Tita simply.

"I should think so! And how did she try to burn them?"

"She didn't try much; she was too weak, those last days. But she told me—she charged me. Oh, it was terrible! She couldn't speak after that night; she could only make signs."

"And what did you do?"

"I took them away. I locked them up."

"In the secretary?"

"Yes, in the secretary," said Miss Tita, reddening again.

"Did you tell her you would burn them?"

"No, I didn't—on purpose."

"On purpose to gratify me?"

"Yes, only for that."

"And what good will you have done me if after all you won't show them?"

"Oh, none; I know that—I know that."

"And did she believe you had destroyed them?"

"I don't know what she believed at the last. I couldn't tell—she was too far gone."

"Then if there was no promise and no assurance I can't see what ties you."

"Oh, she hated it so—she hated it so! She was so jealous. But here's the portrait—you may have that," Miss Tita announced, taking the little picture, wrapped up in the same manner in which her aunt had wrapped it, out of her pocket.

"I may have it—do you mean you give it to me?" I questioned, staring, as it passed into my hand.

"Oh, yes."

"But it's worth money—a large sum."

"Well!" said Miss Tita, still with her strange look.

I did not know what to make of it, for it could scarcely mean that she wanted to bargain like her aunt. She spoke as if she wished to make me a present. "I can't take it from you as a gift," I said, "and yet I can't afford to pay you for it according to the ideas Miss Bordereau had of its value. She rated it at a thousand pounds."

"Couldn't we sell it?" asked Miss Tita.

"God forbid! I prefer the picture to the money."

"Well then keep it."

"You are very generous."

"So are you."

"I don't know why you should think so," I replied; and this was a truthful speech, for the singular creature appeared to have some very fine reference in her mind, which I did not in the least seize.

"Well, you have made a great difference for me," said Miss Tita.

I looked at Jeffrey Aspern's face in the little picture, partly in order not to look at that of my interlocutress, which had begun to trouble me, even to frighten me a little—it was so self-conscious, so unnatural. I made no answer to this last declaration; I only privately consulted Jeffrey Aspern's delightful eyes with my own (they were so young and brilliant, and yet so wise, so full of vision); I asked him what on earth was the matter with Miss Tita. He seemed to smile at me with friendly mockery, as if he were amused at my case. I had got into a pickle for him—as if he needed it! He was unsatisfactory, for the only moment since I had known him. Nevertheless, now that I held the little picture in my hand I felt that it would be a precious possession. "Is this a bribe to make me give up the papers?" I demanded in a moment, perversely. "Much as I value it, if I were to be obliged to choose, the papers are what I should prefer. Ah, but ever so much!"

"How can you choose—how can you choose?" Miss Tita asked, slowly, lamentably.

"I see! Of course there is nothing to be said, if you regard the interdiction that rests upon you as quite insurmountable. In this case it must seem to you that to part with them would be an impiety of the worst kind, a simple sacrilege!"

Miss Tita shook her head, full of her dolefulness. "You would understand if you had known her. I'm afraid," she quavered suddenly—"I'm afraid! She was terrible when she was angry."

"Yes, I saw something of that, that night. She was terrible. Then I saw her eyes. Lord, they were fine!"

"I see them—they stare at me in the dark!" said Miss Tita.

"You are nervous, with all you have been through."

"Oh, yes, very—very!"

"You mustn't mind; that will pass away," I said, kindly. Then I added, resignedly, for it really seemed to me that I must accept the situation, "Well, so it is, and it can't be helped. I must renounce." Miss Tita, at this, looking at me, gave a low, soft moan, and I went on: "I only wish to heaven she had destroyed them; then there would be nothing more to say. And I can't understand why, with her ideas, she didn't."

"Oh, she lived on them!" said Miss Tita.

"You can imagine whether that makes me want less to see them," I answered, smiling. "But don't let me stand here as if I had it in my soul to tempt you to do anything base. Naturally you will understand if I give up my rooms. I leave Venice immediately." And I took up my hat, which I had placed on a chair. We were still there rather awkwardly, on our feet, in the middle of the sala. She had left the door of the apartments open behind her but she had not led me that way.

A kind of spasm came into her face as she saw me take my hat. "Immediately—do you mean today?" The tone of the words was tragical—they were a cry of desolation.

"Oh, no; not so long as I can be of the least service to you."

"Well, just a day or two more—just two or three days," she panted. Then controlling herself, she added in another manner, "She wanted to say something to me—the last day—something very particular, but she couldn't."

"Something very particular?"

"Something more about the papers."

"And did you guess—have you any idea?"

"No, I have thought—but I don't know. I have thought all kinds of things."

"And for instance?"

"Well, that if you were a relation it would be different."

"If I were a relation?"

"If you were not a stranger. Then it would be the same for you as for me. Anything that is mine—would be yours, and you could do what you like. I couldn't prevent you—and you would have no responsibility."

She brought out this droll explanation with a little nervous rush, as if she were speaking words she had got by heart. They gave me an impression of subtlety and at first I failed to follow. But after a moment her face helped me to see further, and then a light came into my mind. It was embarrassing, and I bent my head over Jeffrey Aspern's portrait. What an odd expression was in his face! "Get out of it as you can, my dear fellow!" I put the picture into the pocket of my coat and said to Miss Tita, "Yes, I'll sell it for you. I shan't get a thousand pounds by any means, but I shall get something good."

She looked at me with tears in her eyes, but she seemed to try to smile as she remarked, "We can divide the money."

"No, no, it shall be all yours." Then I went on, "I think I know what your poor aunt wanted to say. She wanted to give directions that her papers should be buried with her."

Miss Tita appeared to consider this suggestion for a moment; after which she declared, with striking decision, "Oh no, she wouldn't have thought that safe!"

"It seems to me nothing could be safer."

"She had an idea that when people want to publish they are capable—" And she paused, blushing.

"Of violating a tomb? Mercy on us, what must she have thought of me!"

"She was not just, she was not generous!" Miss Tita cried with sudden passion.

The light that had come into my mind a moment before increased. "Ah, don't say that, for we ARE a dreadful race." Then I pursued, "If she left a will, that may give you some idea."

"I have found nothing of the sort—she destroyed it. She was very fond of me," Miss Tita added incongruously. "She wanted me to be happy. And if any person should be kind to me—she wanted to speak of that."

I was almost awestricken at the astuteness with which the good lady found herself inspired, transparent astuteness as it was and sewn, as the phrase is, with white thread. "Depend upon it she didn't want to make any provision that would be agreeable to me."

"No, not to you but to me. She knew I should like it if you could carry out your idea. Not because she cared for you but because she did think of me," Miss Tita went on with her unexpected, persuasive volubility. "You could see them—you could use them." She stopped, seeing that I perceived the sense of that conditional—stopped long enough for me to give some sign which I did not give. She must have been conscious, however, that though my face showed the greatest embarrassment that was ever painted on a human countenance it was not set as a stone, it was also full of compassion. It was a comfort to me a long time afterward to consider that she could not have seen in me the smallest symptom of disrespect. "I don't know what to do; I'm too tormented, I'm too ashamed!" she continued with vehemence. Then turning away from me and burying her face in her hands she burst into a flood of tears. If she did not know what to do it may be imagined whether I did any better. I stood there dumb, watching her while her sobs resounded in the great empty hall. In a moment she was facing me again, with her streaming eyes. "I would give you everything—and she would understand, where she is—she would forgive me!"

"Ah, Miss Tita—ah, Miss Tita," I stammered, for all reply. I did not know what to do, as I say, but at a venture I made a wild, vague movement in consequence of which I found myself at the door. I remember standing there and saying, "It wouldn't do—it wouldn't do!" pensively, awkwardly, grotesquely, while I looked away to the opposite end of the sala as if there were a beautiful view there. The next thing I remember is that I was downstairs and out of the house. My gondola was there and my gondolier, reclining on the cushions, sprang up as soon as he saw me. I jumped in and to his usual "Dove commanda?" I replied, in a tone that made him stare, "Anywhere, anywhere; out into the lagoon!"

He rowed me away and I sat there prostrate, groaning softly to myself, with my hat pulled over my face. What in the name of the preposterous did she mean if she did not mean to offer me her hand? That was the price—that was the price! And did she think I wanted it, poor deluded, infatuated, extravagant lady? My gondolier, behind me, must have seen my ears red as I wondered, sitting there under the fluttering tenda, with my hidden face, noticing nothing as we passed—wondered whether her delusion, her infatuation had been my own reckless work. Did she think I had made love to her, even to get the papers? I had not, I had not; I repeated that over to myself for an hour, for two hours, till I was wearied if not convinced. I don't know where my gondolier took me; we floated aimlessly about in the lagoon, with slow, rare strokes. At last I became conscious that we were near the Lido, far up, on the right hand, as you turn your back to Venice, and I made him put me ashore. I wanted to walk, to move, to shed some of my bewilderment. I crossed the narrow strip and got to the sea beach—I took my way toward Malamocco. But presently I flung myself down again on the warm sand, in the breeze, on the coarse dry grass. It took it out of me to think I had been so much at fault, that I had unwittingly but nonetheless deplorably trifled. But I had not given her cause—distinctly I had not. I had said to Mrs. Prest that I would make love to her; but it had been a joke without consequences and I had never said it to Tita Bordereau. I had been as kind as possible, because I really liked her; but since when had that become a crime where a woman of such an age and such an appearance was concerned? I am far from remembering clearly the succession of events and feelings during this long day of confusion, which I spent entirely in wandering about, without going home, until late at night; it only comes back to me that there were moments when I pacified my conscience and others when I lashed it into pain. I did not laugh all day—that I do recollect; the case, however it might have struck others, seemed to me so little amusing. It would have been better perhaps for me to feel the comic side of it. At any rate, whether I had given cause or not it went without saying that I could not pay the price. I could not accept. I could not, for a bundle of tattered papers, marry a ridiculous, pathetic, provincial old woman. It was a proof that she did not think the idea would come to me, her having determined to suggest it herself in that practical, argumentative, heroic way, in which the timidity however had been so much more striking than the boldness that her reasons appeared to come first and her feelings afterward.

As the day went on I grew to wish that I had never heard of Aspern's relics, and I cursed the extravagant curiosity that had put John Cumnor on the scent of them. We had more than enough material without them, and my predicament was the just punishment of that most fatal of human follies, our not having known when to stop. It was very well to say it was no predicament, that the way out was simple, that I had only to leave Venice by the first train in the morning, after writing a note to Miss Tita, to be placed in her hand as soon as I got clear of the house; for it was a strong sign that I was embarrassed that when I tried to make up the note in my mind in advance (I would put it on paper as soon as I got home, before going to bed), I could not think of anything but "How can I thank you for the rare confidence you have placed in me?" That would never do; it sounded exactly as if an acceptance were to follow. Of course I might go away without writing a word, but that would be brutal and my idea was still to exclude brutal solutions. As my confusion cooled I was lost in wonder at the importance I had attached to Miss Bordereau's crumpled scraps; the thought of them became odious to me, and I was as vexed with the old witch for the superstition that had prevented her from destroying them as I was with myself for having already spent more money than I could afford in attempting to control their fate. I forget what I did, where I went after leaving the Lido and at what hour or with what recovery of composure I made my way back to my boat. I only know that in the afternoon, when the air was aglow with the sunset, I was standing before the church of Saints John and Paul and looking up at the small square-jawed face of Bartolommeo Colleoni, the terrible condottiere who sits so sturdily astride of his huge bronze horse, on the high pedestal on which Venetian gratitude maintains him. The statue is incomparable, the finest of all mounted figures, unless that of Marcus Aurelius, who rides benignant before the Roman Capitol, be finer: but I was not thinking of that; I only found myself staring at the triumphant captain as if he had an oracle on his lips. The western light shines into all his grimness at that hour and makes it wonderfully personal. But he continued to look far over my head, at the red immersion of another day—he had seen so many go down into the lagoon through the centuries—and if he were thinking of battles and stratagems they were of a different quality from any I had to tell him of. He could not direct me what to do, gaze up at him as I might. Was it before this or after that I wandered about for an hour in the small canals, to the continued stupefaction of my gondolier, who had never seen me so restless and yet so void of a purpose and could extract from me no order but "Go anywhere—everywhere—all over the place"? He reminded me that I had not lunched and expressed therefore respectfully the hope that I would dine earlier. He had had long periods of leisure during the day, when I had left the boat and rambled, so that I was not obliged to consider him, and I told him that that day, for a change, I would touch no meat. It was an effect of poor Miss Tita's proposal, not altogether auspicious, that I had quite lost my appetite. I don't know why it happened that on this occasion I was more than ever struck with that queer air of sociability, of cousinship and family life, which makes up half the expression of Venice. Without streets and vehicles, the uproar of wheels, the brutality of horses, and with its little winding ways where people crowd together, where voices sound as in the corridors of a house, where the human step circulates as if it skirted the angles of furniture and shoes never wear out, the place has the character of an immense collective apartment, in which Piazza San Marco is the most ornamented corner and palaces and churches, for the rest, play the part of great divans of repose, tables of entertainment, expanses of decoration. And somehow the splendid common domicile, familiar, domestic, and resonant, also resembles a theater, with actors clicking over bridges and, in straggling processions, tripping along fondamentas. As you sit in your gondola the footways that in certain parts edge the canals assume to the eye the importance of a stage, meeting it at the same angle, and the Venetian figures, moving to and fro against the battered scenery of their little houses of comedy, strike you as members of an endless dramatic troupe.

I went to bed that night very tired, without being able to compose a letter to Miss Tita. Was this failure the reason why I became conscious the next morning as soon as I awoke of a determination to see the poor lady again the first moment she would receive me? That had something to do with it, but what had still more was the fact that during my sleep a very odd revulsion had taken place in my spirit. I found myself aware of this almost as soon as I opened my eyes; it made me jump out of my bed with the movement of a man who remembers that he has left the house door ajar or a candle burning under a shelf. Was I still in time to save my goods? That question was in my heart; for what had now come to pass was that in the unconscious cerebration of sleep I had swung back to a passionate appreciation of Miss Bordereau's papers. They were now more precious than ever, and a kind of ferocity had come into my desire to possess them. The condition Miss Tita had attached to the possession of them no longer appeared an obstacle worth thinking of, and for an hour, that morning, my repentant imagination brushed it aside. It was absurd that I should be able to invent nothing; absurd to renounce so easily and turn away helpless from the idea that the only way to get hold of the papers was to unite myself to her for life. I would not unite myself and yet I would have them. I must add that by the time I sent down to ask if she would see me I had invented no alternative, though to do so I had had all the time that I was dressing. This failure was humiliating, yet what could the alternative be? Miss Tita sent back word that I might come; and as I descended the stairs and crossed the sala to her door—this time she received me in her aunt's forlorn parlor—I hoped she would not think my errand was to tell her I accepted her hand. She certainly would have made the day before the reflection that I declined it.

As soon as I came into the room I saw that she had drawn this inference, but I also saw something which had not been in my forecast. Poor Miss Tita's sense of her failure had produced an extraordinary alteration in her, but I had been too full of my literary concupiscence to think of that. Now I perceived it; I can scarcely tell how it startled me. She stood in the middle of the room with a face of mildness bent upon me, and her look of forgiveness, of absolution, made her angelic. It beautified her; she was younger; she was not a ridiculous old woman. This optical trick gave her a sort of phantasmagoric brightness, and while I was still the victim of it I heard a whisper somewhere in the depths of my conscience: "Why not, after all—why not?" It seemed to me I was ready to pay the price. Still more distinctly however than the whisper I heard Miss Tita's own voice. I was so struck with the different effect she made upon me that at first I was not clearly aware of what she was saying; then I perceived she had bade me goodbye—she said something about hoping I should be very happy.

"Goodbye—goodbye?" I repeated with an inflection interrogative and probably foolish.

I saw she did not feel the interrogation, she only heard the words; she had strung herself up to accepting our separation and they fell upon her ear as a proof. "Are you going today?" she asked. "But it doesn't matter, for whenever you go I shall not see you again. I don't want to." And she smiled strangely, with an infinite gentleness. She had never doubted that I had left her the day before in horror. How could she, since I had not come back before night to contradict, even as a simple form, such an idea? And now she had the force of soul—Miss Tita with force of soul was a new conception—to smile at me in her humiliation.

"What shall you do—where shall you go?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know. I have done the great thing. I have destroyed the papers."

"Destroyed them?" I faltered.

"Yes; what was I to keep them for? I burned them last night, one by one, in the kitchen."

"One by one?" I repeated, mechanically.

"It took a long time—there were so many." The room seemed to go round me as she said this, and a real darkness for a moment descended upon my eyes. When it passed Miss Tita was there still, but the transfiguration was over and she had changed back to a plain, dingy, elderly person. It was in this character she spoke as she said, "I can't stay with you longer, I can't;" and it was in this character that she turned her back upon me, as I had turned mine upon her twenty-four hours before, and moved to the door of her room. Here she did what I had not done when I quitted her—she paused long enough to give me one look. I have never forgotten it and I sometimes still suffer from it, though it was not resentful. No, there was no resentment, nothing hard or vindictive in poor Miss Tita; for when, later, I sent her in exchange for the portrait of Jeffrey Aspern a larger sum of money than I had hoped to be able to gather for her, writing to her that I had sold the picture, she kept it with thanks; she never sent it back. I wrote to her that I had sold the picture, but I admitted to Mrs. Prest, at the time (I met her in London, in the autumn), that it hangs above my writing table. When I look at it my chagrin at the loss of the letters becomes almost intolerable.

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FREE shipping over $25
Sierra Bees, Organic Lip Balms, Cocoa Butter, 4 Pack, 0.15 oz (4.25 g) Each
- Date First Available: January 2019
Shipping Weight:
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While iHerb strives to ensure the accuracy of its product images and information, some manufacturing changes to packaging and/or ingredients may be pending update on our site. Although items may occasionally ship with alternate packaging, freshness is always guaranteed. We recommend that you read labels, warnings and directions of all products before use and not rely solely on the information provided by iHerb.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
There's a fungus among us. With respect to your health, that's a good thing if the fungus is an edible mushroom. Much maligned and often shunned simply for looking weird and growing in unusual places, edible mushrooms are potent medicines and a delicious addition to a healthy diet. Here are four reasons to eat more mushrooms.
1. Mushrooms can help in the fight against cancer. A study in the International Journal of Medicinal Mushrooms found that chaga mushrooms inhibited cancer tumor growth. Chaga has long been used in Asian and northern European traditional medicine for a number of ailments. The fungus grows on trees—most notably birch trees in northerly forests in the U.S., Canada, Europe and Asia. It typically resembles a black mass on the tree trunk due to the high levels of melanin, a naturally occurring pigment that in humans protects against ultraviolet B shortwave (UVB) radiation damage.
Chinese researchers investigated the inhibitory roles of a polysaccharide extract from chaga on U251 human brain tumor cells. The extract successfully inhibited the proliferation of the tumor cells and that success increased both over time and with increased concentrations of the extract.
2. Mushrooms can also boost immune function, according to research published in the Journal of the American College of Nutrition. Scientists wanted to determine whether consumption of whole, dried shiitake mushrooms could improve human immune function. Shiitake mushrooms are native to eastern Asia but they are one of the most common mushrooms found in the produce section due to their increasing popularity. They have a rich smoky flavor that complements many types of cuisines.
The four week study involved men and women in good health between the ages of 21 and 41 years. The authors concluded that regular shiitake consumption resulted in improved immunity, as seen by improved cell proliferation and activation and increased immunoglobulin A (also referred to as IgA) production, which is an antibody that plays a critical role in mucosal immunity. The authors also concluded that changes observed in other immunity markers suggested that these improvements occurred under conditions that were less inflammatory than those that existed before consumption of the mushrooms.
3. Reishi mushrooms, another popular choice, have been found to protect the brain and nervous system. Mexican researchers tested compounds in reishi to determine the possible anticonvulsant and neuroprotective effects of this mushroom. The study, published in the International Journal of Medicinal Mushrooms, found that the mushroom inhibited seizures and reduced degeneration patterns in parts of brain, leading them to conclude that reishi offered credible anticonvulsant and neuroprotective effects.
4. Mushrooms are delicious and versatile. They can easily take the place of meat in any meal (think portabello instead of steak) and are excellent additions to soups, stews and curries. They also lend a rich flavor to gravies and obviously support a vegan or vegetarian lifestyle.
A wide variety of edible mushrooms can be found in grocery stores, health food stores and many farmers' markets. Purchasing from these retailers takes the risk out of eating mushrooms because they have been harvested by knowledgeable "shroomers" who understand the difference between edible and inedible or poisonous varieties. It also gives you an opportunity to try health-enhancing mushrooms that may not be indigenous to where you live.
While wildcrafting (wandering the woods and harvesting mushrooms straight from Mother Nature) is enjoyable and fulfilling, it is best left to mushroom experts who can identify species accurately and who will practice sustainable harvesting methods that won't damage the long-term viability of the mushroom ecosystem. If you decide you want to wildcraft mushrooms, enroll yourself in a credible, hands-on workshop with an experienced mycologist that brings you into direct contact with the mushroom varieties in your area. Relying on an illustrated book is not enough to fully understand the complex and strangely beautiful world of these fantastic fungi.
10 Superfoods That Will Keep You Healthy This Winter
7 Foods That Keep You From Overeating
What You Should Eat to Balance Your pH and Alkalize Your Body


text:
At last, after years of horribly bad referee calls, the cave full of old crooks and farts known as FIFA has approved the use of technology to track the ball in soccer games. This is a huge change, with profound implications in the most popular sport in the world.
Soccer—or football, as everyone but the United States calls it—is played by more than 250 million people in over 200 countries. It moves more money than any other sport on the planet. More importantly, billions of fans watch it avidly every other day. A soccer game—the European Cup 2012 final in which Spain destroyed Italy—generated more tweets than any other sporting event before it.
All of those fans love soccer as much as they love to discuss referee calls during and after the game. Calls that, when erroneous, may not only decide the outcome of a game but the fate of a team in a given competition or tournament, both of which often have national pride at stake. Moreover, a bad call may represent hundreds of millions of dollars won or lost for a team—to say nothing of making a whole country cry. You know (or should), like when the USA lost that game to Slovenia in the World Cup, all because the referee was a blind moron.
HawkEye and GoalRef
That bad call, however, would still not have been avoided even if the technology that FIFA has approved today—through the International Football Association Board (IFAB)—had been in place.
The approved tech only affects ghost goals. Ghost goals occur when the ball passes the goal line but then jumps straight back out. Technically, it is a goal. But referees sometimes don't call it as such because they can't see it from their point of view—even while the entire world can see it clearly on their TVs.
Other times, the refs seem to have ignoble intentions—like when Lampard scored for England against Germany in South Africa '10, or Spain's Michel kicked the ball inside Brazil's goal in Mexico '86 only for it to bounce out.
The first technology is called HawkEye, which had been used in tennis for quite some time. HawkEye's cameras will be installed on the pitch's goalposts. They will track the ball and make sure it has passed the line.
For redundancy, there will be another tracking technology called GoalRef. Developed by Fraunhofer Institute for Integrated Circuits IIS, GoalRef uses a low magnetic field around the goals, creating an invisible radio curtain. When the ball fully goes through that curtain, the magnetic field changes and the system sends an alert to the referee's wristwatch.
Both will be great additions that will avoid extremely bad and embarrassing decisions by the referee.
More is needed
But technology can do a lot more right now, eliminating 90% of the most common problems in referee decisions: off-sides. They only need to incorporate location microchips into players' boots and the ball. It doesn't have to be GPS. It could work locally, with a computer triangulating the position of players and balls using receptors placed around the field. It's not science-fiction technology. It can be easily done and it's not expensive for a sport that generates more money than any other in the world.
A technology like that, plus multiple cameras, would eliminate most of the problems and randomness of soccer, while avoiding interrupting the game too much.
Why they don't do it? Some say that, if you make it all too perfect, you take power away from the referees and the soccer federations. Others say that you will take la salsa off the sport. Like I said, people love to argue about these things. And then there are those that say that this would stop the game.
It's all bollocks, especially the last part: The game stops every time there's referee call, but even more so when it's a dubious fault, penalty, goal, or offside. It's then when players and referee waste minutes discussing the play (and frustrated players get pissed off too, which later usually leads to more adrenaline and violence in the field).
Hopefully, the introduction of GoalRef and HawkEye signals a much needed change in a world that, more often than you think, is affected by hidden interests and manipulation. And I hope that, if FIFA can change, other sports can change too.
When so much money and fans' pride is at stake in American Football, basketball, baseball and any-other-ball game you can think about, there is a clearly a need to use all the technology we can come up with to avoid any costly mistakes. [FIFA and Fraunhofer]


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Thursday, March 25, 2010
Brioche Pizza with Fried Pistachios and Honey
That gallon of whole milk, three quarters of a cup of distilled white vinegar, and a tablespoon of salt were placed in a large pan and brought up to 140 degrees F while stirring constantly. Then, it was left to continue warming to 175 degrees F. The separated curds were then spooned into a cheesecloth-lined mesh strainer with a base that was sitting in a large bowl. The strainer needs a base so that it can stand above the liquid that drains. It drained for about an hour, and voila, beautiful ricotta was born. That was the key to this pizza's toppings. Ricotta with honey and pistachios is a natural fit, and then pushing those flavors a little by contrasting the sweetness with some savory heat was what resulted here. Those toppings just happened to have been on brioche dough.
Don't call the butter police. I know this will sound like a lot of butter, but that's brioche. The dough was started by mixing sugar, warm water, and yeast. Flour, additional sugar, and salt were combined, and then eggs and the yeast mixture were added to that in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a dough hook. While mixing the dough, it was necessary to stop from time to time and pull the dough down off the dough hook and then continue. Then, softened butter was added one tablespoon at a time allowing each bit to be incorporated before adding more until the 16 luscious tablespoons of butter had been added. The dough was briefly kneaded by hand on a floured surface and was left to slowly rise in the refrigerator for at least four hours or up to two days. It was a lovely dough that was actually very easy to roll out for pizzas.
To make these pizzas, pistachios were fried in olive oil and then removed, drained on paper towels, and were coarsely chopped. After the olive cooled a little, red pepper flakes and sliced garlic were added to it. That flavored oil and some of the pepper flakes and garlic were brushed onto the rolled out pizza dough. The oil was topped with chopped pistachios and scoops of fresh ricotta. The pizza baked for about thirteen minutes, and then it was drizzled with honey and sprinkled with fleur de sel. I should explain that this isn't really the kind of pizza to serve for eating several big slices while watching the game although I'm sure it would taste just as good whether a game was being watched or not. Rather, this is more of a pizza to cut into small pieces to be enjoyed with a cocktail. The rich dough was a very suitable platform for the creamy ricotta, sweet honey, and spicy hit of pepper. I wasn't sure Kurt would love this, and neither was he. After tasting it, he claimed that the toppings really worked well together, and I couldn't have agreed more. I also thought it was a great use of my very first fresh ricotta.
Posted by lisa is cooking at Thursday, March 25, 2010
33 comments:
Sounds really delicious!ReplyDelete
OMG, where do you come up with this stuff? This would be like heaven for me.ReplyDelete
*kisses* HH
Looks fantastic!ReplyDelete
This looks gorgeous!ReplyDelete
Nice recipe, very middle eastern!
The first time I made mascarpone myself I was also amazed at how easy it really was! And this sounds like a similar experience . Looks delicious!ReplyDelete
That's a pretty neat idea. I've never had pistachios on pizza before. This one's a keeper!ReplyDelete
I love making my own cheese and ricotta comes together amazingly easy - this pizza looks and sounds excellent.ReplyDelete
Magnificent and so tempting!ReplyDelete
sweet stuff!ReplyDelete
Honey and pistachios?ReplyDelete
This sounds like a Jim Lahey pizza!
Looks fantastic!
Reminds me of baklava-it'll be such a novel dessert!!ReplyDelete
This sounds AMAZING!!! Brioche + Pizza + Pistachios + Homemade Ricotta = Pure Genius.ReplyDelete
I am totally dreaming of making homemade ricotta now. Thanks for the inspiration!
This is one pizza I would ADORE!!! If this was on the dessert menu, I'd order it for dinner. Oh wow. I adore pistachios, but to pair it with homemade ricotta and honey...and BRIOCHE! Oh wow. Oh freaking wow!ReplyDelete
This looks even better than the traditional pizza. and the touch of home made ricotta is so nice, what a treat.ReplyDelete
Pistachios and pizza....two of my very favs. Sounds delightful! Cheers~ReplyDelete
you always feature SUCH unique recipes, lisa! this is a type of pizza i'd never dream of throwing together, but it sounds marvelous! and who ever heard of fried pistachios? not this gal, but i want some!ReplyDelete
Sounds really special. You can even make your own ricotta??? Amazing! Yeah, i learnt in france that it's not unusual to have honey with certain cheese. Also have not heard of brioche pizza, curious how it tastes.ReplyDelete
Sounds like a fabulous pizza. All of it. And I love the last photo with honey dribbling over the edge of the crust.ReplyDelete
This sounds like my perfect pizza. I love the sweet and savoury combo and I bet the buttery brioche dough just takes it to another level. One of these days I'll get around to making my own cheese.ReplyDelete
- AnonymousMarch 26, 2010 at 12:07 PM
Ok, this pizza I absolutely have to try! Sounds AMAZING with brioche dough!ReplyDelete
This sounds positively heavenly! Yay for making your own Ricotta. I bet it made it all the more delicious.ReplyDelete
Oooh, cheesy, nutty goodness! This is almost like dessert for me. Well, at least a cheese course, anyway. ;)ReplyDelete
Looks simply amazing. Reminds me also of having a dessert in Italy of ricotta with honey and black pepper.ReplyDelete
- AnonymousMarch 27, 2010 at 8:52 AM
what a concept. looks yummyReplyDelete
What an inventive recipe!ReplyDelete
OMG I made sweet pizza once and loved it but wow, Lisa, this outdoes mine! Love it all! I know that mild soft cheeses like ricotta go so well with nuts and honey. This is really fabulous!ReplyDelete
Perfect dessert pizza! I can just imagine sitting outside with a glass of reisling and this yummy pizza. Thanks for sharing!ReplyDelete
- AnonymousMarch 27, 2010 at 2:13 PM
I think your food is so colorful and healthyReplyDelete
I limit myself to making labneh every week but I need to expand my horizon; I love that pizza it sounds so perfect for a morning break with a cup of coffee, then I can dream I am in Italy!ReplyDelete
I love your dessert pizza. The Greek equivalent to ricotta is anthotyro or anari in Cyprus and we add a dash of cinnamon on the cheese which is a perfect match with honey.ReplyDelete
Love this pizza!! So tempting! YummyyyReplyDelete
wow, looks delectable. can just feel the taste of it on my tongue. will definitely try this. you're such a source of inspiration :DReplyDelete
- AnonymousApril 1, 2010 at 10:36 AM
Pistacios are my new all-time favorite nut and I really love what you did with them here! Wonderful!ReplyDelete


text:
Beautiful dried botanicals which capture the beauty and vibrancy of flowers for a long time. This bundle can easily bring texture into your space, it's Sienna color is beautifully natural and can be used as an accent piece.
A masterful mix of organic shape and modern technique elevates the simple forms of the Glaze Candlesticks. This set of three features candlesticks with one, two and three stacked ivory stained crackle ceramic disc bases, paired with with a knurled blackened steel candle holder. Compelling enough to stand alone, the Glaze Candelsticks can also be paired with additional sets for playful tabletop installations.
Inspired by the act of hand building and rolling clay, the ethereal, organic Roll Trays are both decorative and functional. Each tray in the set of three is uniquely shaped but married by the same deisgn language, allowing them to be paired as a dynamic centerpiece or used separately to hold snacks and hors d'oeuvres, jewelry and trinkets and more. Thanks to a hand-shaped aesthetic and subtle matte black and white finish, the porcelain trays also stand alone as decorative forms.
Designed in contrasting matte black and white to sit back to back, these streamlined porcelain bud vases can also be staggered and arranged in multiples to create dramatic linear installations and one-of-a-kind floral displays on a dining table, console or bar. The Roll vases' uniquely horizontal forms are striking when filled with blooms and greenery, adding interest to any surface without impeding views or intimate conversation.


text:
[Adults Watch over the Children at the Picnic]
Description: A library assistant, left, and a chaperone, right, keep a watchful eye at the children's play day which concluded the summer reading program at Marshall Public Library, c1976. The picnic and games were held on the library's grounds that year.
Date: unknown
Item Type: Refine your search to only Photograph


text:
Valerie Kay in Monster Curves video: Curvealicious
Posted on January 28, 2012
Wow! Thats the only way how to describe Valerie. Cuban Hottie from Miami, bringing the heat over to LA. I could just watch her walk around in this outfit all day long. Shaking that Ass and bouncing it. Perfect curves on her and a pretty face to compliment. Danny is one lucky dude today getting a piece of that ass and fucking the shit out of it. Be prepared to witness the awesomeness of this Monster Curves and bust one.


text:
Nummer: 125
Land: Germany, 108 minuter
Språk: Engelska, Tyska
Genre(s): Action, Skräck, Sci-Fi, Triller
Regissör: Christian Alvart
Two crew members are stranded on a spacecraft and quickly - and horrifically - realize they are not alone. Two astronauts awaken in a hyper-sleep chamber aboard a seemingly abandoned spacecraft. It's pitch black, they are disoriented, and the only sound is a low rumble and creak from the belly of the ship. They can't remember anything: Who are they? What is their mission? With Lt. Payton staying behind to guide him via radio transmitter, Cpl. Bower ventures deep into the ship and begins to uncover a terrifying reality. Slowly the spacecraft's shocking, deadly secrets are revealed...and the astronauts find their own survival is more important than they could ever have imagined.
Medium: Digital Kopia,
Plats: J:\Film\Nya filmer\Huvudfilmer\PANDORUM.iso
Utlånad: Nej
Format: Unknown


text:
80% Block out*
Why you'll love this panel:
- Built with a unique steel box frame on the back. Making them superior in strength and stability, also safe & easier to handle/install.
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- This is a high quality fit-for-purpose product (no one needs heavy industrial grade Corten steel in their backyard) but it will withstand harsh Australian conditions.
- Extremely versatile product that can be used for a wide range of applications (eg. Screening, fencing, a backdrop, a statement piece)
Can be used in unison with a translucent acrylic panel to create a light box effect and/or add LED lighting to create an artificial day and night light box.
1800H x 900L x 14mm thick (13mm backing frame + 1mm steel sheet)
*Also available in Painted Finish
- Ideal for single sided display however both sides of the panel are rusted so the back side will still look attractive.
- The panel will require a structure to be attached to, (eg. Fence, Carport, a wall or just posts)
- The real rust looks and feels great however the panel can slowly thin and stain surfaces under it with prolonged exposure to the elements.
- To extend the life of the panel and minimise staining, it can be sealed and resealed periodically with an outdoor metal sealer similar to Incralac or Penetrol. This is especially recommended in areas close to the ocean.
Additional information
1200 x 600, 1800 x 900
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MOBILE, Ala. -- After taking an extended look at the talented crop of offensive linemen for the North and South the first few days here, it's time to see what other prospects are making a name for themselves at the Senior Bowl.
There's no question Texas A&M linebacker Von Miller looks like the best prospect this week and will go high in the first round, but let's dig a little deeper into these rosters.
Here are 10 guys who jumped out as interesting prospects and clearly helped their draft stock during Senior Bowl practices.
Boise State WRs Austin Pettis and Titus Young: The pair can really snatch the ball out of the air and I would label them as hand-catchers. Pettis' hands are so good that he doubles as the holder on field goals. He's also the bigger of the two (6-foot-3, 201 pounds) and looks suited for the X-receiver spot. He is sudden in his release and was good against press coverage in practice all week. Young is explosive and dangerous as a deep threat. On two occasions, I watched him line up against cover 3 with a corner off at 9 yards and back pedaling at the snap. Both times, Young got by him on a go route. He has shake, separation and can stop on a dime.
North Carolina CB Kendric Burney: He was suspended for part of the season and really needed the Senior Bowl to show NFL people just where he is at in his development. He might not run the fastest 40-yard dash, but he is as quick as anyone out here and can mirror any short route. He has a real knack for getting his hand on the ball and would be ideal as a slot corner. He excelled at jamming receivers in press man-on-man drills and forcing the outside release. He also has some return skills.
Nevada QB Colin Kaepernick: An athlete and someone who can really run. Although his throwing motion is a bit unorthodox, the ball comes out of his hand with a lot of spin. I spent some time with him after practice Tuesday and found him to be a bright young man, who is certainly ready to take on the challenges of the NFL. He performed better in the team segment of the practices than he did in the drills, which leads me to believe his game tapes will tell us more about him than anything he does in shorts over the next few months. Don't be surprised if this 6-6, 225-pound athlete runs a sub 4.5-second 40 at the combine. There's a lot to work with here. A few years in a system, learning on the bench, and some team is going to have a good QB.
Oklahoma S Quinton Carter: He looks like the most complete safety here. He can play up in the box as well as in the deep middle or half field. He is smooth in his change of direction and covers a lot of ground when he has to. The Senior Bowl offense he is facing is not complicated and he has had no trouble with his key and diagnose. He's also a solid open-field tackler that understands angles of pursuit. NFL coaches I spoke with really liked what they saw from Carter.
Connecticut LB Lawrence Wilson: At 6-1, 226 pounds, he is slightly undersized, but will fit as a 4-3 Will (weak-side) linebacker. He really shined in the blitz drills Wednesday. He came off the edge against a running back and won with an edge rush, a spin move and even a speed-to-power move. He is smooth in his zone drops and athletic enough to run with a back out of the backfield.
Clemson DL Jarvis Jenkins: At 309 pounds, he moves like a guy in the 280-pound range. He has a good first step, and possesses the quickness to be a one-gap penetrator. He is also stout enough to hold the point of attack. He came here as a late third-round talent and clearly caught the eye of a number of defensive line coaches. He fits in any front and could play tackle or end. He told me he blocked four kicks in college, which tells you a little about his quickness.
Nebraska WR Niles Paul: He regularly demonstrated good extension on catches in practice, grabbing the ball with his hands instead of his body. He is sudden enough to work in the slot or outside. I liked his route running and separation in his breaks. He also has return skills.
Stanford CB Richard Sherman: The late addition to the Senior Bowl roster picked up everything the Bengals' staff was teaching in a day. He is really smart, and the former wide receiver knows how to back pedal, stick his foot in the ground and close. He has size (6-2, 193 pounds) and plays like a guy who has been at corner his whole college career, despite catching 81 passes as a wide receiver. There is no doubt he knows what routes are coming at him because of his days on offense. He has great size for the position.
LSU LB Kelvin Sheppard: He measured in at 6-2, 250 pounds, which got my attention. Then he went on the field and destroyed running backs in a blitz drill. He bull rushed the undersized backs, but he also used a speed rush and a spin move to win. He looks like a solid pick for any 3-4 team in need of a pass rusher at outside linebacker or a stout inside guy over a guard. He has the physical strength to play the run and demonstrated that in nine-on-seven drills. He was around the ball a lot when I watched him work.


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MSNBC television host, award-winning scholar and Wake Forest University alumna Melissa Harris-Perry ('94) will return this summer to her alma mater as a chaired professor.
Host of the popular MSNBC show "Melissa Harris-Perry," she joins Wake Forest's Politics and International Affairs department from Tulane University, where she has served as a political science professor since 2011.
"My love affair with Wake Forest began when I was 16, so having the opportunity to return is thrilling beyond measure," said Harris-Perry. "Wake Forest taught me the joys of learning, the responsibilities of citizenship, and the endurance of friendship. I welcome the challenge of joining this demanding and nurturing academic environment."
Known for her creative and dynamic teaching style, Harris-Perry brings practical political and relevant cultural experiences to the classroom.
"Melissa Harris-Perry is one of the nation's foremost intellectuals publicly exploring—and thoughtfully influencing—the intersections of politics, race, gender, religion and culture," said Wake Forest Provost Rogan Kersh. "We are delighted that she has chosen to come home to Wake Forest and help ignite in our students the passion she has for contemporary political issues and social justice."
Harris-Perry has been named a Presidential Chair, an endowed position that recognizes and supports exceptional faculty who embody Wake Forest's teacher-scholar ideal. She is the second Presidential Chair honoree, joining Michele Gillespie of Wake Forest's History Department.
Harris-Perry is founding director of the Anna Julia Cooper Project on Gender, Race, and Politics in the South. Named for the foundational black feminist intellectual, activist, and educator of the early 20th century, the Anna Julia Cooper Project supports related programs, courses and research and will move with Harris-Perry to Wake Forest.
"I am most honored to have an opportunity to bring Anna Julia Cooper home to North Carolina," said Harris-Perry. "Establishing a research center in Cooper's name at Wake Forest University will preserve her legacy of black feminist scholarship that transcends the traditional boundaries between academy and community."
Harris-Perry is also an award-winning author. Her first book, "Barbershops, Bibles, and BET: Everyday Talk and Black Political Thought," won the 2005 W. E. B. Du Bois Book Award from the National Conference of Black Political Scientists and 2005 Best Book Award from the Race and Ethnic Politics Section of the American Political Science Association. Her most recent book, "Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America" argues that persistent harmful stereotypes—invisible to many but painfully familiar to black women—profoundly shape black women's political engagement, contribute to policies that treat them unfairly, and make it difficult for black women to assert their rights in the political arena.
Having also previously served on the faculties of the University of Chicago and Princeton University, her academic research is inspired by a desire to investigate the challenges facing contemporary black Americans and to better understand the multiple, creative ways that African Americans respond to these challenges.
Harris-Perry regularly provides expert commentary on U.S. elections, racial issues, religious questions and gender concerns for a variety of media outlets, and she will continue to host her weekend MSNBC program. Additionally, she plans to maintain her scholarly research agenda and teach an array of innovative courses based on a principle of engaged scholarship aimed at providing students with opportunities that extend beyond the classroom.
Harris-Perry received her B.A. in English with a minor in politics from Wake Forest, her Ph.D. in political science from Duke University, and an honorary doctorate from Meadville Lombard Theological School. She also studied theology at Union Theological Seminary in New York.
Categories: Alumni, Campus Life, Community, Faculty, For Alumni, For Parents, Humanities, Humanities Highlights 2013-2014, International, National, Online, Pro Humanitate, Recognition, Scholars and Scientists, Teacher-Scholar, Top Stories, Valuing Diversity, Working Together
Wake Forest in the News
Wake Forest regularly appears in media outlets around the world.


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Listen before you buy a hi-fi, what a great idea
Today's hi-fi buyers rarely get to compare one speaker with another to see which sounds the best. That happens every day at In Living Stereo in NYC!
I sold high-end audio in New York City for 16 years before I started writing. Talking one-on-one with my customers taught me a lot about how a broad range of people relate to hi-fi. Those experiences influenced my writing, because I know firsthand that there's not a lot of agreement about what constitutes "good sound." You have to listen for yourself to really know if you love the sound. You might do that at a friend's house, but the best place to compare and learn what you like is in a hi-fi store
I've blogged about In Living Stereo before, when it was a cool little hi-fi shop in New York's Greenwich Village, but they moved a few blocks south, and they now have a much larger store. It's big enough to fit an awesome record shop within the hi-fi store.
I recently chatted with ILS' owner, Steven Mishoe, about why he's still running a brick-and-mortar hi-fi store, and he said, "I do it for the fun of it. I'm a member of this community, I know all the shop owners, and I enjoy the interaction with people." He's 44, which makes him the youngest hi-fi store owner in Manhattan, and his shop's relaxed vibe reflects that. The brands he selects are, for the most part, from smaller, quirkier high-end companies, like Halide Design, EMT, Leben, and Shindo Laboratory. There's also a smattering of more familiar high-end brands like Dynaudio and Rega.
In Living Stereo mostly offers two-channel gear, but Mishoe also does home theater. He focuses on turntables and vacuum tube electronics, but there's a sampling of great sounding digital and solid-state gear on display. Mishoe explained his point of view by saying, "Mainstream high-end audio is off the beaten path, and I'm trying to get further off that path." There's a very definite music orientation to In Living Stereo, and just about every time I drop by I hear music I have to buy.
Mishoe has a fondness for companies that have something to say. He recently brought in Line Magnetic, a Chinese company building affordable electronics based on old Western Electric tube designs. Their baby amp, the Audio Mini 218 ($795), can drive headphones or speakers. I was happy to see the store has the Wharfedale Diamond 10.1 speakers ($349/pair) I raved about last year. Complete systems start around $1,200.
The greatest thing about hi-fi stores, at least the really good ones like In Living Stereo, is that you can hear and compare Brand A with Brand B or C. If you call ahead and arrange for it, you can compare your speakers or maybe even your old Denon receiver with one of the store's tube amps. That way you'll know where you stand.
The record store stocks new and used LPs, and it's attracting a new stream of customers to In Living Stereo. If you're in or near NYC, and love hi-fi or vinyl, check it out.
Home Entertainment Guides
Streaming & TV Accessories
Other Home Entertainment


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A single discovery transformed our entire appreciation for word-of-mouth virality.
Austin, TX / Chicago, IL – "A single discovery transformed our entire appreciation for word-of-mouth virality," said Greg Grabowski, President and CEO of Seasons Hospice Foundation and Vice President Communications of Seasons Hospice & Palliative Care. The Foundation is a 501(c) (3) non-profit that supports Seasons Hospice & Palliative Care's patients, families and staff, increases awareness about hospice, and makes CareFlash available to patients and families and through their partners to the greater community.
For the first time, speaking at The Future of Word-of-Mouth Marketing Conference WOMMnext, CEO Greg Grabowski will discuss how his organization, Seasons Foundation uses a specialized approach to Social Healing to transform its word-of-mouth marketing, while at the same time innovating to empower loved ones to move beyond nonstop sympathies to stay empathetically engaged around family and friends in connection with an impending loss and the grief that follows. The WOMMnext conference will be at The InterContinental Magnificent Mile in Chicago on April 28-30, 2014.
"The social angle in healing is easily one of the most important, but most elusive assets for enhancing peace of mind," said Grabowski. "CareFlash allows Seasons to bring another layer of innovative care to patients and families, while tastefully touching many more people through the goodwill that arises in connection with the compassionate care that Seasons provides."
Jay Drayer, CEO of CareFlash, who will speak alongside Grabowski added, "We love partnering with innovators like Greg and his excellent organization. The CareFlash platform allows a patient and their friends and family members to quickly and easily create a private, invitation-only CareCommunity which strengthens outlook and peace of mind by enabling loved ones to remain naturally and comfortably engaged in ways that deepen community and enhance healing."
The Seasons Hospice Foundation-CareFlash Case Study titled "Strengthening Word-of-Mouth Marketing with Holistic Healing" can be seen at Session 1568.
About CareFlash:
CareFlash is a private online social platform for developing meaningful communities in ways that enhance whole healing and improving outcomes around recovery, rehabilitation or in the months following loss. CareFlash partners with organizations all across the care continuum, enhancing the care they provide and fostering quality outcomes, including healthcare organizations and medical practices; home health and hospice; independent living; eldercare and long-term care; substance recovery; behavioral care; advocacy; faith based organizations; pharmacy and funeral providers. CareFlash's purpose is to enhance healing, recovering, aging and grieving while benefiting a provider's marketing and professional and community relations.
About Seasons Hospice & Palliative Care and Seasons Hospice Foundation:
Founded in 1997, Seasons Hospice & Palliative Care is the largest private Hospice provider in the nation, offering high-quality compassionate care in 16 states through 21 Medicare-certified programs and 10 Hospice Inpatient Centers. In 2013, Seasons caregivers served more than 17,000 patients totaling 1.15 million patient days. Seasons Hospice Foundation's purpose is making memories by fulfilling a wish or providing financial support for a patient/family that will create a lasting memory.
Media Contact
Company Name: CareFlash LLC
Contact Person: Patti Hill
Email: email@example.com
Phone: (512) 368-5421
City: Austin
State: TX
Country: United States
Website: http://www.careflash.com
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Like most of her fabric collections, Denyse finds inspiration for Hadley in her native New England. Pastoral Hadley has puritan roots with a streak of independence. Elegant and spirited, Hadley embodies the assured style and ladylike grace of a Seven Sisters college co-ed. Showcasing smart, pretty florals, confident plaids and universally useful calicos, Hadley is as versatile collection as you are likely to find. Perfect for apparel, Hadley works equally well for all your quilting and crafting ideas. Low volume prints and vibrant accents make it a cinch to create modern quilts with a vintage, scrappy feel. Hadley features three delightful colorways – Chinese Lantern, Sunflower, and Hydrangea.
Hadley pre-cut bundles feature coordinating selections from Denyse's Modern Solids – download the list of DS Modern Solids included here!
Order the In This Corner quilt pattern! See more Hadley inspiration on our FaceBook page.