Return-Path: Delivered-To: diana@transocean.com Received: from vps.transocean.com by vps.transocean.com (Dovecot) with LMTP id Dd1nJgBlj1hEKQAAInt2oQ for ; Mon, 30 Jan 2017 08:08:32 -0800 Return-path: Envelope-to: diana@transocean.com Delivery-date: Mon, 30 Jan 2017 08:08:32 -0800 Received: from [66.23.198.103] (port=57259 helo=mdizilab.com) by vps.transocean.com with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cYEVG-0003Uf-0l for diana@transocean.com; Mon, 30 Jan 2017 08:08:32 -0800 Date: Mon, 30 Jan 2017 11:07:13 -0500 From: Whole Foods Bill-Cutter Subject: How-To >> Shave fifty off your next trip to Whole Foods. Errors-To: oopsy@mdizilab.com Mime-Version: 1 Message-ID: To: diana@transocean.com Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary="6pAs198906890JwEkUhYSMbz5" X-Mailer: InterTrepid By Mailman Version 4.2.2 Reply-To: robert.clarke@mdizilab.com X-Spam-Status: No, score=2.8 X-Spam-Score: 28 X-Spam-Bar: ++ X-Ham-Report: Spam detection software, running on the system "vps.transocean.com", has NOT identified this incoming email as spam. The original message has been attached to this so you can view it or label similar future email. If you have any questions, see root\@localhost for details. Content preview: "Let me sleep here." "Go and sleep somewhere else," cried Enjolras. But Grantaire, still keeping his tender and troubled eyes fixed on him, replied:-- "Let me sleep here,--until I die." Enjolras regarded him with disdainful eyes:-- "Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of willing, of living, and of dying." [...] Content analysis details: (2.8 points, 5.0 required) pts rule name description ---- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------------- 0.0 URIBL_BLOCKED ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE: The query to URIBL was blocked. See http://wiki.apache.org/spamassassin/DnsBlocklists#dnsbl-block for more information. [URIs: mdizilab.com] -0.0 SPF_HELO_PASS SPF: HELO matches SPF record -0.0 SPF_PASS SPF: sender matches SPF record 0.8 BAYES_50 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 40 to 60% [score: 0.5000] 0.0 HTML_FONT_LOW_CONTRAST BODY: HTML font color similar or identical to background 0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message 2.0 RDNS_NONE Delivered to internal network by a host with no rDNS 0.0 T_REMOTE_IMAGE Message contains an external image X-Spam-Flag: NO --6pAs198906890JwEkUhYSMbz5 Content-type: text/plain; charset=UTF-8 Content-transfer-encoding: 8bit "Let me sleep here." "Go and sleep somewhere else," cried Enjolras. But Grantaire, still keeping his tender and troubled eyes fixed on him, replied:-- "Let me sleep here,--until I die." Enjolras regarded him with disdainful eyes:-- "Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of willing, of living, and of dying." There--- http://www.mdizilab.com At the age of sixteen, one evening at the opera, he had had the honor to be stared at through opera-glasses by two beauties at the same time--ripe and celebrated beauties then, and sung by Voltaire, the Camargo and the Salle. Caught between two fires, he had beaten a heroic retreat towards a little dancer, a young girl named Nahenry, who was sixteen like himself, obscure as a cat, and with whom he was in love. He abounded in memories. He was accustomed to exclaim: "How pretty she was--that Guimard-Guimardini-Guimardinette, the last time I saw her at Longchamps, her hair curled in sustained sentiments, with her come-and-see of turquoises, her gown of the color of persons newly arrived, and her little agitation muff!" He had worn in his young manhood a waistcoat of Nain-Londrin, which he was fond of talking about effusively. "I was dressed like a Turk of the Levant Levantin," said he. Madame de Boufflers, having seen him by chance when he was twenty, had described him as "a charming fool." He was horrified by all the names which he saw in politics and in power, regarding them as vulgar and bourgeois. He read the journals, the newspapers, the gazettes as he said, stifling outbursts of laughter the while. "Oh!" he said, "what people these are! Corbiere! Humann! Casimir Perier! There's a minister for you! I can imagine this in a journal: 'M. Gillenorman, minister!' that would be a farce. Well! They are so stupid that it would pass"; he merrily called everything by its name, whether decent or indecent, and did not restrain himself in the least before ladies. He uttered coarse speeches, obscenities, and filth with a certain tranquillity and lack of astonishment which was elegant. It was in keeping with the unceremoniousness of his century. It is to be noted that the age of periphrase in verse was the age of crudities in prose. His god-father had predicted that he would turn out a man of genius, and had bestowed on him these two significant names: Luc-Esprit. http://po.mdizilab.com --6pAs198906890JwEkUhYSMbz5 Content-Type: text/html; charset=UTF-8 Content-transfer-encoding: 8bit
"Let me sleep here." "Go and sleep somewhere else," cried Enjolras. But Grantaire, still keeping his tender and troubled eyes fixed on him, replied:-- "Let me sleep here,--until I die." Enjolras regarded him with disdainful eyes:-- "Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of willing, of living, and of dying."

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At the age of sixteen, one evening at the opera, he had had the honor to be stared at through opera-glasses by two beauties at the same time--ripe and celebrated beauties then, and sung by Voltaire, the Camargo and the Salle. Caught between two fires, he had beaten a heroic retreat towards a little dancer, a young girl named Nahenry, who was sixteen like himself, obscure as a cat, and with whom he was in love. He abounded in memories. He was accustomed to exclaim: "How pretty she was--that Guimard-Guimardini-Guimardinette, the last time I saw her at Longchamps, her hair curled in sustained sentiments, with her come-and-see of turquoises, her gown of the color of persons newly arrived, and her little agitation muff!" He had worn in his young manhood a waistcoat of Nain-Londrin, which he was fond of talking about effusively. "I was dressed like a Turk of the Levant Levantin," said he. Madame de Boufflers, having seen him by chance when he was twenty, had described him as "a charming fool." He was horrified by all the names which he saw in politics and in power, regarding them as vulgar and bourgeois. He read the journals, the newspapers, the gazettes as he said, stifling outbursts of laughter the while. "Oh!" he said, "what people these are! Corbiere! Humann! Casimir Perier! There's a minister for you! I can imagine this in a journal: 'M. Gillenorman, minister!' that would be a farce. Well! They are so stupid that it would pass"; he merrily called everything by its name, whether decent or indecent, and did not restrain himself in the least before ladies. He uttered coarse speeches, obscenities, and filth with a certain tranquillity and lack of astonishment which was elegant. It was in keeping with the unceremoniousness of his century. It is to be noted that the age of periphrase in verse was the age of crudities in prose. His god-father had predicted that he would turn out a man of genius, and had bestowed on him these two significant names: Luc-Esprit.
 
 
 



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