Plexus: The Rosy Crucifixion II

Plexus: The Rosy Crucifixion II

Henry Miller

Language: English

Pages: 640

ISBN: 0802151795

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Second volume in the Rosy Crucifixion series. More about Henry and June, also chronicling the author's travels to the deep South, and his work as an encyclopedia salesmen (after he'd left personnel).

Searching for Caleb

Big Woods: The Hunting Stories

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

La copa dorada

Day Out of Days: Stories












no room. ‘Can you give me something to eat?’ I begged. I was informed that the dining room had been closed hours ago. ‘I’ll eat anything,’ I said, clinging to the man at the desk. ‘Haven’t you got a rotten orange or a rotten banana?’ He looked at me strangely. He was unmoved. ‘Can you give me a dime – just a dime?’ I begged. Disgustedly he fished into his pocket and flung me the dime. ‘Now clear out of here!’ he said. ‘You loafers belong up North where you came from.’ I turned on my heel

identity. At this moment I know more about you than I shall probably ever know again. What I know, however, is only of importance for me. This is what I wanted to tell you – that you should think of me when you are in distress. Not that I can help you, don’t think that! Nobody can. Nobody will, probably. You – (and here he spaced his words) – you will have to solve your own problems. But at least you will know, when thinking of me, that there is one person in this world who knows you and believes

make a wonderful diplomat. I ought to be an ambassador to a foreign country – how does that strike you? No, seriously. Why not? I’ve got brains, and I know how to deal with people. What I don’t know I’d make up for with my imagination. Can you see me as ambassador to China?’ Oddly, she didn’t think the idea so absurd. Not in the abstract, at any rate. ‘Certainly you would make a good ambassador, Val. Why not, as you say? But you’ll never get the chance. There are certain doors that will never

did steal now and then. Why not? She stole not for herself but to aid those in distress. She had no scruples or compunctions about such matters. She wasn’t a bourgeoise, oh no! This word ‘bourgeois’ began to pop up frequently now that Anastasia was on the scene. Whatever was no good was ‘bourgeois’. Even caca could be ‘bourgeois’. according to Anastasia’s way of looking at things. She had such a wonderful sense of humour, when you got to know her. Of course, some people couldn’t see it. Some

American now,’ said someone. ‘And I’m a good American,’ I can hear my grandfather saying. ‘But that doesn’t mean that I like to kill. Put away the uniforms, get back to work!’ This grandfather, Valentin Nieting, was a man whom everybody respected and admired. He had spent ten years in London as a master tailor, had acquired a beautiful English accent there, and always spoke affectionately of the English. He said they were a civilized people. All his life he retained many English mannerisms. His

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