en

Jack London

  • Louidézett3 hónappal ezelőtt
    The land it­self was a des­ol­a­tion, life­less, without move­ment, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sad­ness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more ter­rible than any sad­ness—a laughter that was mirth­less as the smile of the sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and par­tak­ing of the grim­ness of in­fal­lib­il­ity. It was the mas­ter­ful and in­com­mu­nic­able wis­dom of etern­ity laugh­ing at the fu­til­ity of life and the ef­fort of life. It was the Wild, the sav­age, frozen-hearted North­land Wild.
  • Amir Shakor Tavakkoliidézett4 hónappal ezelőtt
    com­mis­er­at­ingly
  • Amir Shakor Tavakkoliidézett4 hónappal ezelőtt
    wist­ful­ness
  • zyempridézett4 nappal ezelőtt
    It is not the way of the Wild to like move­ment. Life is an of­fence to it, for life is move­ment;
  • Андрей Голышевidézett2 évvel ezelőtt
    For what reason under the sun do men and women come together if not for the exchange of the best that is in them? And the best that is in them is what they are interested in, the thing by which they make their living, the thing they’ve specialized on and sat up days and nights over, and even dreamed about.
  • Anatoliy Voronovidézett8 hónappal ezelőtt
    lodged only in his mind
  • Anatoliy Voronovidézett8 hónappal ezelőtt
    amused glance that the other stole privily at him
  • Anatoliy Voronovidézett8 hónappal ezelőtt
    not of the eart
  • Anatoliy Voronovidézett8 hónappal ezelőtt
    in the upper walks of life.
  • beyzacemreaykutidézett3 hónappal ezelőtt
    rounded by the unknown, apprehensive of what might happen, ignorant of what he should do, aware that he walked and bore himself awkwardly, fearful that every attribute and power of him was similarly afflicted. He was keenly sensitive, hopelessly self-conscious
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