Мартин Иден

Chapter 31

           Histhinlips,likethediesofamachine,stampedoutphrasesthatcutandstung; oragain,pursingcaressinglyabouttheinchoatesoundtheyarticulated,thethinlipsshapedsoftandvelvetythings,mellowphrasesofglowandglory,ofhauntingbeauty,reverberantofthemysteryandinscrutablenessoflife; andyetagainthethinlipswerelikeabugle,fromwhichrangthecrashandtumultofcosmicstrife,phrasesthatsoundedclearassilver,thatwereluminousasstarryspaces,thatepitomizedthefinalwordofscienceandyetsaidsomethingmorethepoet’sword,thetranscendentaltruth,elusiveandwithoutwordswhichcouldexpress,andwhichnonethelessfoundexpressioninthesubtleandallbutungraspableconnotationsofcommonwords. He,bysomewonderofvision,sawbeyondthefarthestoutpostofempiricism,wherewasnolanguagefornarration,andyet,bysomegoldenmiracleofspeech,investingknownwordswithunknownsignificances,heconveyedtoMartin’sconsciousnessmessagesthatwereincommunicabletoordinarysouls. 

           Martinforgothisfirstimpressionofdislike. Herewasthebestthebookshadtooffercomingtrue. Herewasanintelligence,alivingmanforhimtolookupto. "Iamdowninthedirtatyourfeet,"Martinrepeatedtohimselfagainandagain. 

           "You’vestudiedbiology,"hesaidaloud,insignificantallusion. 

           TohissurpriseBrissendenshookhishead. 

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