My classes commenced on the seventh of September, a tall blue day as crisp as the white starched blouses of the coeds who filed into my classroom and nervously took their seats. Standing behind the lectern at eight o'clock sharp, suit fresh-pressed and chin scraped clean, I felt my nostrils flare like a stud's at the nubby tight sex of them, flustered and pink-scrubbed, giggling and moist; my tighs flexed, and I yawned ferociously.
John Barth The End of the Road
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The narrator describes the start of classes on September 7th, a day characterized by its blue skies and crisp atmosphere. The scene is set with coeds entering the classroom, their fresh white blouses symbolizing both nervousness and anticipation. The narrator stands at the front of the class, well-dressed and punctual, experiencing an array of sensations as he observes the students, who appear flustered and youthful.

As the narrator takes in the energy of the room, he feels a mix of admiration and exhaustion, indicative of the charged atmosphere in front of him. The humorous metaphor of his nostrils flaring captures the intensity of his feelings, reflecting a blend of academic rigor and personal desire. This vivid portrayal highlights the emotional landscape of both the teacher and his students during this pivotal moment in the academic year.

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The End of the Road
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John Barth
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My classes commenced on the seventh of September, a tall blue day as crisp as the white starched blouses of the coeds who filed into my classroom and nervously took their seats. Standing behind the lectern at eight o'clock sharp, suit fresh-pressed and chin scraped clean, I felt my nostrils flare like a stud's at the nubby tight sex of them, flustered and pink-scrubbed, giggling and moist; my tighs flexed, and I yawned ferociously.
John Barth The End of the Road
My classes commenced on the seventh of September, a tall blue day as crisp as the white starched blouses of the coeds who filed into my classroom and nervously took their seats. Standing behind the lectern at eight o'clock sharp, suit fresh-pressed and chin scraped clean, I felt my nostrils flare like a stud's at the nubby tight sex of them, flustered and pink-scrubbed, giggling and moist; my tighs flexed, and I yawned ferociously.
There was no reason to do anything. My eyes, like Winckelmann, improperly said of the Greek statues, were without gaze, fixed to eternity, aimed at the ultimate goal, and when things are thus there is no reason to do anything, not even to adjust the fire of their eyes. Which is perhaps the reason why the statues are stopped. I was struck by the "cosmopsis" disease, the cosmic view. When one has this disease he stiffens like the frog when the hunter's light strikes it in the eyes; Except that with Cosmopsis there is neither hunter nor a quick hand that puts an end at the moment - there is only the light.
John Barth The End of the Road
There was no reason to do anything. My eyes, like Winckelmann, improperly said of the Greek statues, were without gaze, fixed to eternity, aimed at the ultimate goal, and when things are thus there is no reason to do anything, not even to adjust the fire of their eyes. Which is perhaps the reason why the statues are stopped. I was struck by the "cosmopsis" disease, the cosmic view. When one has this disease he stiffens like the frog when the hunter's light strikes it in the eyes; Except that with Cosmopsis there is neither hunter nor a quick hand that puts an end at the moment - there is only the light.
Everyone is necessarily the hero of his own life story. Hamlet could be told from Polonius's point of view and called The Tragedy of Polonius, Lord Chamberlain of Denmark. He didn't think he was a minor character in anything, I daresay.
John Barth The End of the Road
Everyone is necessarily the hero of his own life story. Hamlet could be told from Polonius's point of view and called The Tragedy of Polonius, Lord Chamberlain of Denmark. He didn't think he was a minor character in anything, I daresay.
Articulation! There, by Joe, was MY absolute, if I could be said to have one. At any rate, it is the only thing I can think of about which I ever had, with any frequency at all, the feelings one usually has for one's absolutes. To turn experience into speech - that is, to classify, to categorize, to conceptualize, to grammarize, to syntactify it - is always a betrayal of experience, a falsification of it; but only so betrayed can it be dealt with at all, and only in so dealing with it did I ever feel a man, alive and kicking.
John Barth The End of the Road
Articulation! There, by Joe, was MY absolute, if I could be said to have one. At any rate, it is the only thing I can think of about which I ever had, with any frequency at all, the feelings one usually has for one's absolutes. To turn experience into speech - that is, to classify, to categorize, to conceptualize, to grammarize, to syntactify it - is always a betrayal of experience, a falsification of it; but only so betrayed can it be dealt with at all, and only in so dealing with it did I ever feel a man, alive and kicking.
path's should be laid where people walk, instead of walking where paths are laid
John Barth The End of the Road
path's should be laid where people walk, instead of walking where paths are laid
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I don't have anything against God. Far from it. But I don't understand Him. And I don't trust a lot of the people that go around claiming that they're working in His best interests.
Now that you're an adult, you might still feel a pang of guilt when you decline a dinner invitation in favor of a good book. Or maybe you like to eat alone in restaurants and could do without the pitying looks from fellow diners. Or you're told that you're "in your head too much," a phrase that's often deployed against the quiet and cerebral. Of course, there's another word for such people: thinkers.
Susan Cain Quiet: The Power of...
Now that you're an adult, you might still feel a pang of guilt when you decline a dinner invitation in favor of a good book. Or maybe you like to eat alone in restaurants and could do without the pitying looks from fellow diners. Or you're told that you're "in your head too much," a phrase that's often deployed against the quiet and cerebral. Of course, there's another word for such people: thinkers.
I found Esau's field guide at the bottom of my pack. Taking a candle into the bedroom, I read his book until my eyes grew heavy. From his vast notes, it seemed that almost every plant and tree in the jungle had a reason for existing. I caught myself wishing there was a page in his guide that had my picture on it with the reason for my existence written underneath in Esau's neat hand.
Maria V. Snyder Magic Study
I found Esau's field guide at the bottom of my pack. Taking a candle into the bedroom, I read his book until my eyes grew heavy. From his vast notes, it seemed that almost every plant and tree in the jungle had a reason for existing. I caught myself wishing there was a page in his guide that had my picture on it with the reason for my existence written underneath in Esau's neat hand.
Here's a nifty solution: Each couple that marries should take on an entirely new surname, chosen however they want as long as both agree to it, so that a day after the wedding, both husband and wife can hold hands and joyfully journey off to the municipal offices to change their passports, driver's licenses, signatures, initials, bank accounts, etc.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Dear Ijeawele, or A...
Here's a nifty solution: Each couple that marries should take on an entirely new surname, chosen however they want as long as both agree to it, so that a day after the wedding, both husband and wife can hold hands and joyfully journey off to the municipal offices to change their passports, driver's licenses, signatures, initials, bank accounts, etc.
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