Your Ultimate Purity Test 2.0 Score Is... Your Score:Average For All UsersAverage For All
( total) Dating42.31%34.29%Dated seriously Self-Lovin'77.27%61.55%Never taken out of the packaging Shamelessness98.39%77.78%Has yet to see self in mirror Sex Drive90.48%75.56%Monks are envious Straightness98.15%40.08%Just go fuck something, okay? Gayness59.26 ( Read more... )

Combeferre was up even earlier than usual this morning. Part of him had not wanted to leave his bed, and the warmth there - he blushed faintly at the thought of that - but the rest wanted to find somewhere in the air, where he could write and think for a while ( Read more... )

I read of a survey conducted by the Dutch newspaper De Telegraaf, seeking to rank European countries by politeness. Our France came second, but at the wrong end of the scale. The Dutch voted themselves the third most loutish, bad-mannered nation, behind Russia and France ( Read more... )

The title was The Wind That Shakes The Barley. It was set nearly a hundred years after our battle was brought to an end. In Ireland. I never gave much thought to Ireland. There is so much in this world to know, so many countries, each with her story to tell, that one man can never know them all. And it is in this that it is especially true that ( Read more... )

The human body gives off more heat, on a per-kilogram basis, than the sun.

Combeferre had been reminiscing, and let his typist jot down a memory for him, the memory of the first time he had been to that incubus that would become Les Amis de l'ABC, and the first time he had met most of the friends who were now so pivotal in his life...and, apparently, death. But one in particular. It was strange. After that meeting, and ( Read more... )

Desmoulins, Saint-Just, Danton.... Who's next? Robespierre? Napoleon?

The words of M. Shakespeare are true, but to say that men and women are merely players is an injustice. There is a greatness in the player for he is observed, and so has a profound effect on his audience ( Read more... )

Combeferre is sitting outside, scribbling vaguely on a scrap of paper, a book lying open in his lap. As usual, he's fairly oblivious to comings and goings around him.

( Read more... )