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The worm Ouroboros

This book is a philosophical and speculative fiction that delves into the concept of infinity and the cyclical nature of existence. It presents a narrative that intertwines with the mythological Ouroboros, a serpent or dragon eating its own tail, symbolizing the eternal cycle of life and death. more

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E.R. Eddison

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“No, I’m not shy." I folded my arms across my shell-covered chest. The press of the hard material against my sensitive nipples caused my core to tighten. “But I usually have to buy a girl a couple of drinks in order to be treated to a show like that.” She turned to look at me, the fringe on her dress swaying with her movement. A thin eyebrow arched, her cherry lips pulled into a dazzling smile. “Well.” The intensity locked in her bright eyes as her green gaze moved from my head to my toes and back again made my entire body tingle. “I guess you owe me a drink, Meghan.”

“It was a hideous ancient thing that stood on tiger feet in the middle of the floor. Like a showpiece. And he did enjoy showing it. He would bring his friends upstairs to the master bathroom so that they could admire the monstrosity while he told them the whole long boring story of how he’d gotten it at an estate sale in Hollywood. Some bimbo actress from the silent-screen days had supposedly slit her wrists while she was in the thing. ‘Cashed in her chips,’ Harold liked to say. ‘In this very tub.”

“By brightening your beliefs and everyday reactions to things, you may make others more inclined to interact with you and see you favorably. This may make them more likely to respect your inputs and help you out, and you may even become more likely to obtain the outcomes or goals you seek.”

“We went on that programme and we’d done our homework, thinking we were going to get into quite a tough theological argument, but it turned out to be virtually a slinging match. We were very surprised by that. I don’t get angry very often but I got incandescent with rage at their attitude and the smugness of it. And it was really the way they played to the audience that got me. We weren’t defeated in argument at all. John was brilliant. What they were trying to do was to sort of smirk at the audience and belittle what we’d done and that seemed so out of touch and so stupid and so mistaken. I mean, how do they think the film was made? That we go in there one night, write the script and the film’s made the next morning? They don’t realise we’d been working on it for two years, we’d studied, that we had an opinion and we had an attitude, but they wouldn’t let us have that. So it was their condescension that really got me irritated.’ Gilliam remembers having never seen Palin quite so pissed off before.”