Мартин Иден

Chapter 1

           Likesilver,hethoughttohimself,liketinklingsilverbells; andontheinstant,andforaninstant,hewastransportedtoafarland, whereunderpinkcherryblossoms,hesmokedacigaretteandlistenedtothebellsofthepeakedpagoda callingstraw-sandalleddevoteestoworship. 

           "Yes,thankyou,"shesaid. "Swinburnefails,whenallissaid,becauseheis,well,indelicate. Therearemanyofhispoemsthatshouldneverberead. Everylineofthereallygreatpoetsisfilledwithbeautifultruth, andcallstoallthatishighandnobleinthehuman. Notalineofthegreatpoetscanbesparedwithoutimpoverishingtheworldbythatmuch." 

           "Ithoughtitwasgreat,"hesaidhesitatingly, "thelittleIread. Ihadnoideahewassuchaascoundrel. Iguessthatcropsoutinhisotherbooks." 

           "Therearemanylinesthatcouldbesparedfromthebookyouwerereading," shesaid,hervoiceprimlyfirmanddogmatic. 

           "Imust’a’missed’em,"heannounced. "WhatIreadwastherealgoods. Itwasalllightedupan’shining,an’itshunrightintomean’lightedmeupinside,likethesunorasearchlight. That’sthewayitlandedonme, butIguessIain’tupmuchonpoetry,miss." 

           Hebrokeofflamely. Hewasconfused,painfullyconsciousofhisinarticulateness. Hehadfeltthebignessandglowoflifeinwhathehadread, buthisspeechwasinadequate. Hecouldnotexpresswhathefelt,andtohimselfhelikenedhimselftoasailor, inastrangeship,onadarknight,gropingaboutintheunfamiliarrunningrigging. Well,hedecided,itwasuptohimtogetacquaintedinthisnewworld. 

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 11 из 527