. , .
, . : make a separate peace with poverty, filth, immorality or ignorance is treason to the rest of the human race (S. Levenson. Everything but Money).
, peace. , , , . .
. . : In Alaskan igloos, in Swiss chalets, and Spanish casas in tenements, palaces, split level ranch houses every place in the world where men and children come home to sleep, or eat, or brag of their exploits, or plan excursions, or be comforted, housewives are concocting that comfort.
, , , .
But what they must not look for in real life, what they would expect in vain, what it is necessary to guard them against, is supposing that such conduct will make a similar impression on those around them, that the sacrifices they make will be considered and the principles on which they act understood and valued, as the novel writer, at his good pleasure, makes them. (Extracts, from the Journals and Correspondence of Miss Berry from the year 1783 to 1852, ed. Lady Theresa Lewis, 1865, quoted from The Pelican Guide to English Literature.)
is supposing : what they must... what they would... what it is necessary... : that such conduct...that the sacrifices...and the principles.
, .. , .
. .. 1. . , , , , . , , (. . 100).
|
|
|
, , : , , (), , , , , .., , , , .
. , , , , , . . , .
What made me take this trip to Africa? There is no quick explanation. Things got worse and worse and worse and pretty soon they were too complicated.
When I think of my condition at the age of fifty-five when I bought the ticket, all is grief. The facts begin to crowd me and soon I get a pressure in the chest. A disorderly rush begins my parents, my wives, my girls, my children, my farm, my animals, my habits, my money, my music lessons, my drunkenness, my prejudices, my brutality, my teeth, my face, my soul! I have to cry, No, no, get back, curse you, let me alone! But how can they let me alone? They belong to me. They are mine. And they pile into me from all sides. It turns into chaos.
, , . got worse and worse and worse . . (disorderly rush) : , , , , , , , , .. , ( ) , .. , .
, . . , , . , . : They belong to me. They are mine.
, . : , , , , , , , , ; : , , , , , . : No, no, get back, curse you, let me alone! , curse you.
|
|
|
, :
She was seen washing clothes with industry and a cake of soap. He lost his hat and his temper. The Rich arrived in pairs and also in Rolls Royces. (H. Belloc)...whether she would break her heart, or break the looking glass; Mr Bounderby could not at all foresee.
(Ch. Dickens)
. 1. , , . . '. . ' , 80- , . . ' , , , , , .
a mother in child-pain , , pressed a little boy out of the womb into the world where... , world:
Where white horses... Where soldiers paraded... Where a great poet named Tennyson... Where energy was poured out in bibles... Where it was believed... Where Ruskin... Where almost all found all in all in God... Where every shrubbery... put a latchkey into the pocket of every catholic and protestant for a private gateway into the kingdom of heaven.
And the woman in child-pain...
where , , .
In Dublin, sometime in the early eighties, on the last day of the month of March, a mother in child-pain clenched her teeth, dug her knees home into the bed, sweated and panted and grunted, became a tense living mass of agony and effort, groaned and pressed and groaned and pressed and pressed a little boy out of the womb into a world where white horses and black horses and brown horses and white and black horses and brown and white horses trotted tap-tap-tap tap-tap-tappety-tap over cobble stones conceitedly in front of landau, brougham, or vis-a-vis; lumberingly in front of tramcar, pantingly and patiently in front of laden lorry, dray or float; and gaily in front of the merry and irresponsible jaunting-car.
Where soldiers paraded, like figures taken out of a toybox, wearing their red coats with yellow breastpieces; blue jackets with white breast-pieces; and tight trousers with red stripes or white stripes or yellow stripes down the whole length of each leg; marching out on each royal birthday of the Queen to the Phoenix Park for a Review and Sham Battle, with guns and lances and swords and cannons; going by the Saluting Point at a quick march, or at a trot, and lastly, at a gallop, with a thunder of hoofs and a rattle of shaking cannon, that made all hearts quiver with hope for a new war; while the soldiers having got back to the barracks when the fun was all over, rubbed down their sweating horses or cleaned their rifles, murmuring all the time against the birthdays of queens that gave them all so much mucking about for nothing.
Where a great poet named Tennyson, anticipating Hollywood, had built up in the studio of his mind, his come into the garden, Maud, the black bat night has flown; and had sent his cardboard kings and warriors and uncompromising virgins out into the highways and byways.
|
|
|
Where...1
Where...
Where...
Where almost all found all in all in God on Sundays; and the rest of the week found all in all in bustles, Bibles and bassinets; preaching, prisons and puseyism; valentines, Victoria crosses, and vaccination; tea fights, tennis and transsubstantiation; magic lanterns, minstrel shows, and mioramas; music halls, melodramas, and melodeons; antimacassars, moonlighting, and midwives; fashions, fenians, and fancy-fairs;
musk, money, and monarchy.
Where...
And the woman...
(S. O'Casey. I Knock at the Door)
, . . , , . : with guns and lances and swords and cannons. : , . . : , , , , , - .
. ; , , . . ': (2), a mother (10), (5), (5) .. trotted , , ; , , : conceitedly, lumberingly, pantingly, patiently, gaily.
.
, . , , . . ' - . (. 214). III. ' : , . . XXII :
Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat. Night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone...
, his , . , .
, . , .. , (. . 8791).
