Angelika

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  (page 70 of 184)
Apr 17, 2026 12:01AM

 
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Francis Brett Young
“He lived and moved in a curiously exalted, isolated world between his office on Fifth Avenue, which resembled a millionaire's apartment, and his bachelor apartment on Park, which resembled a business man's office. He moved in a vicious circle so rapid that he hadn't even time to realize how rich he was. It was only during his hurried passage between these two high perches [...] that Ludlow Walcot's feet had any contact with his mother earth. All day and all night (for not even his dreams were his own) his giddy brain was assailed by business details which hammered at it with the persistence of a riveting machine, his stomach insulted by snacks and patent nerve-foods, that jostled each other in competing for the attention of his bewildered digestion.”
Francis Brett Young, Cage Bird, And Other Stories

Francis Brett Young
“It didn't occur to him to make allowances for the long English twilight. That twilight gave to the landscape a curious effect of suspended life. It cast upon everything (or was that, perhaps, the beer?) an eerie, magical bloom. Every mile that he went - and now he was hurrying - he felt surer and surer that he was on the verge of some shattering experience.”
Francis Brett Young, Cage Bird, And Other Stories

Francis Brett Young
“her mind was full not of facts, but of glamour;”
Francis Brett Young, Cage Bird, And Other Stories

Francis Brett Young
“In the street of the perfume-sellers Miss Jenkins subsided on a settee like a fat bee drunk with essences, [...}”
Francis Brett Young, Cage Bird, And Other Stories

Francis Brett Young
“Peaceful and lovely though his country seemed, there was nothing in it that clutched at his heart and dragged it out by the roots. He didn't belong to it, could never belong to it. He knew those picturesque cottages! It was probable that not one in five hundred possessed a bathroom, much less up-to-date plumbing or steam-heating or electric refrigeration. All this talk about "calls of the blood" was simply bunk. He had always described himself as a hundred-per-cent. American. At that moment the percentage had risen to a hundred and fifty. Probably, by the time he had got to Ludlow, it would reach two hundred.”
Francis Brett Young, Cage Bird, And Other Stories

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