Остров доктора Моро
The Man Alone.
ThenIwouldturnasideintosomechapel,—andeventhere,suchwasmydisturbance,itseemedthatthepreachergibbered"BigThinks,"evenastheApe-manhaddone;orintosomelibrary,andtheretheintentfacesoverthebooksseemedbutpatientcreatureswaitingforprey.Particularlynauseousweretheblank,expressionlessfacesofpeopleintrainsandomnibuses;theyseemednomoremyfellow-creaturesthandeadbodieswouldbe,sothatIdidnotdaretotravelunlessIwasassuredofbeingalone.AndevenitseemedthatItoowasnotareasonablecreature,butonlyananimaltormentedwithsomestrangedisorderinitsbrainwhichsentittowanderalone,likeasheepstrickenwithgid.
Thisisamood,however,thatcomestomenow,IthankGod,morerarely.Ihavewithdrawnmyselffromtheconfusionofcitiesandmultitudes,andspendmydayssurroundedbywisebooks,—brightwindowsinthislifeofours,litbytheshiningsoulsofmen.Iseefewstrangers,andhavebutasmallhousehold.MydaysIdevotetoreadingandtoexperimentsinchemistry,andIspendmanyoftheclearnightsinthestudyofastronomy.Thereis—thoughIdonotknowhowthereisorwhythereis—asenseofinfinitepeaceandprotectionintheglitteringhostsofheaven.Thereitmustbe,Ithink,inthevastandeternallawsofmatter,andnotinthedailycaresandsinsandtroublesofmen,thatwhateverismorethananimalwithinusmustfinditssolaceanditshope.Ihope,orIcouldnotlive
