Ogden Codman
1 Published Story
Ogden Codman's Book and Story
The Decoration of Houses
Young Adult The Historical Tradition
Rooms in General
Walls
Doors
Windows
Fireplaces
Ceilings and Floors
Entrance and Vestibule
Hall and Stairs
The Drawing-room, Boudoir, and Morning-room
Gala Rooms: Ball-room, Saloon, Music-room, Gallery
The Library, Smoking-room, and "Den"
The Dining-room
Bedrooms
The School-room and Nurseries
Bric-à-Bracooms may be decorated in two ways: by a superficial application of ornament totally independent of structure, or by means of those architectural features which are part of the organism of every house, inside as well as out. In the middle ages, when warfare and brigandage shaped the conditions of life, and men camped in their castles much as they did in their tents, it was natural that decorations should be portable, and that the naked walls of the mediæval chamber should be hung with arras, while a ciel, or ceiling, of cloth stretched across the open timbers of its roof. When life became more secure, and when the Italian conquests of the Valois had acquainted men north of the Alps with the spirit of classic tradition, proportion and the relation of voids to masses gradually came to be regarded as the chief decorative values of the interior. Portable hangings were in consequence replaced by architectural ornament: in other words, the architecture of the room became its decoration. This architectural treatment held its own through every change of taste until the second quarter of the present century; but since then various influences have combined to sever the natural connection between the outside of the modern house and its interior. In the average house the architect's task seems virtually confined xx to the elevations and floor-plan. The designing of what are to-day regarded as insignificant details, such as mouldings, architraves, and cornices, has become a perfunctory work, hurried over and unregarded; and when this work is done, the upholsterer is called in to "decorate" and furnish the rooms. You might like
The Ninety-Ninth Goodbye
Tango The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave.
At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety.
As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers.
"Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in.
That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission.
Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away. Obsession (Tonight we are young)
bebeeizrael Her nipples tuck at the slim silk as she bounced close to him.
Wrong move!!
He didn't try to move back, he just stood still as he felt something growing rapidly in his zipper area. He swore softly as she angrily tuck her stray hair behind her ears breathing heavily.
"Are you fucking listening?" She yelled, "Oh! You gat to be kidding me, you break into my apartment, went to my kitchen, maybe went through my stuff, and now! YOU.ARE. FUCKING. LOOKING. LIKE. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL I'M SAYING!".
Williams didn't flinch, he moved closer swiftly, it almost look supernatural. If they had a third party the person would have vouch Melissa was the person who moved.
Weird!
Seconds ago she was a few meters away yelling at him, but there she stood, wrapped in his strong arms. For what felt like an eternity she didn't want to move, there was no possible reason why she felt safe and super wet but she still prefer to be a bitch for a second or more.
It wasn't until Williams smashed his lips on hers in a devouring kiss! He smiled on her lips as she flinched and struggled to pull out but he held her firm, kissing her passionately, kissing her as he had never kissed before. Brave Tom; Or, The Battle That Won
Edward Sylvester Ellis On a certain summer day, a few years ago, the little village of Briggsville, in Pennsylvania, was thrown into a state of excitement, the like of which was never known since the fearful night, a hundred years before, when a band of red men descended like a cyclone upon the little hamlet with its block-house, and left barely a dozen settlers alive to tell the story of the visitation to their descendants. Tom Gordon lived a mile from Briggsville with his widowed mother and his Aunt Cynthia, a sister to his father, who had died five years before. The boy had no brother or sister; and as he was bright, truthful, good-tempered, quick of perception, and obedient, it can be well understood that he was the pride and hope of his mother and aunt, whose circumstances were of the humblest nature. He attended the village school, where he was the most popular and promising of the threescore pupils under the care of the crabbed Mr. Jenkins. He was as active of body as mind, and took the lead among boys of his own age in athletic sports and feats of dexterity.