Atlanta Nightlife

Christmas With
St. Nick


FSBO Leads For
Real Estate Agents

Real Estate
Agent Coaching

James Joyce

Page 1 of 410



THERE was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke.
Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and
studied the lighted square of window: and night after night I had
found it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly.  If he was
dead, I thought, I would see the reflection of candles on the
darkened blind for I knew that two candles must be set at the head
of a corpse.  He had often said to me: "I am not long for this
world," and I had thought his words idle.  Now I knew they were
true.  Every night as I gazed up at the window I said softly to
myself the word paralysis.  It had always sounded strangely in my
ears, like the word gnomon in the Euclid and the word simony in
the Catechism.  But now it sounded to me like the name of some
maleficent and sinful being.  It filled me with fear, and yet I longed
to be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.   

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