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, , , , , .

, - .

 

Music! Sphere-descended maid,

Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid!

(W. Collins)

 

If way to the Better there be, it exacts a full look at the Worst (Th. Hardy).

, , , , , :

 

He's a big chap. Well you've never heard so many wellbred commonplaces come from beneath the same bowler hat. The Platitude from Outer Space that's brother Nigel.

(J. Osborne. Look Back in Anger)

 

. 248 . : The stiff Heart questions... The Feet, mechanical, go round... , . : Yesterday, or Centuries before?.. Of Ground, or Air, or Ought A Wooden Way... the Hour of Lead... the Snow... then Stupor...

: And there was dead silence. Till at last came the whisper:

I didn't kill Henry. No, NO! Henry, surely you cannot blame me. I loved you, dearest (D.H. Lawrence. The Lovely Lady).

. , .. . AS I WAS SAYING, said Eyore loudly and sternly, as I was saying when I was interrupted by various Loud Sounds, I feel that? (A. Milne).

. , , :

 

WILL YOU BE QUIET! he bawled.

.. 1 . , , :

 

under milk wood

(by) dylan thomas

 

(New York, 1954)

 

, , . , . ( ) .

. , , , , , () , ( ). , .

, , .., , , , - - :

 

Bella!

Yes, Master Jon.

Do let's have tea, under the oak tree when they come; I know, they'd like it best.

You mean you'd like it best.

Little Jon considered.

No, they would, to please me.

(J. Galsworthy. Awakening)

will would , , . :

...his liver was a little constricted, and his nerves rather on edge. His wife was always out when she was in Town, and his daughter would flibberty-gibbet all over the place.

(J. Galsworthy. Awakening)

, , . :

Olwen (smiling at him affectionately): You are a baby, Robert. (J.B. Priestley. Dangerous Corner)

 

:

Gordon (furious, rising and taking a step forward): You are a rotter, Stanton.

 

You are a rotter , a you are a baby, Robert . , .

, .

.. A Cooking Egg ( ) , . :

 

Pipit sat upright in her chair

Some distance from where I was sitting;

Views of Oxford Colleges

Lay on the table, with the knitting.

(T.S. Eliot. The Cooking Egg)

 

, , .

, .. .

 

, . , , , . . .

. , . : , , - : , , , ( ) .. - .

. . , tale tail, , , . . . , , . tale tail : .

 

You promised to tell me your history, you know, said Alice, and why it is you hate and D, she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would be offended again.

 

Mine is a long and a sad tale! said the mouse, turning to Alice and sighing.

It is a long tail, certainly, said Alice, looking down with wonder at the mouse's tail; but why do you call it sad? And she kept puzzling about it while the mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this

 

Fury1 said to

a mouse, that

he met

in the

house,

'Let us

both go

to law:

I will

prosecute

you.

Come, I'll

take no denial:

We must

have a trial;

For

really

this

morning

I've

nothing

to do.'

Said the

mouse to

the cur,

'Such a

trial,

dear sir,

With no

jury or

judge,

would be

wasting

our breath.'

'I'll be

judge,

I'll be

jury.'

Said

cunning

old Fury;

'I'll try

the whole

cause,

and

condemn

you

to

death.'

 

. c , . . , : , , . , , , , , .

, , , . . , - . , , . . . , . , - , . , , . , , .

, , , , , . , , , ( , .). . ..

, . , , .

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VII

 





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