Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "ILL"
Входимость: 9. Размер: 162кб.
Входимость: 4. Размер: 120кб.
Входимость: 3. Размер: 45кб.
Входимость: 2. Размер: 40кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 54кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.
Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах
Входимость: 9. Размер: 162кб.
Часть текста: throat, as they did that day when I stood face to face with my mortal enemy? I cannot rid myself of these haunting memories, and an odd thought has occurred to me. Perhaps, if I put them down on paper, I shall be finished with them; perhaps they will haunt me no longer, and will let me die in peace. That is the special reason that makes me take up my pen. Perhaps someone will read this diary, perhaps not. It is immaterial to me. Therefore, I need not apologize to my future readers either for my choice of subject, which cannot have the slightest interest for people accustomed to dealing with social, if not world, problems, or for the form in which my writings are set forth. True, I should like these lines to be read by one person, but that person will not blame me. Everything that has to do with me is dear to her. That person is my cousin. What is keeping her so long today? It is three months now since I came to myself after that day. The first face that I saw was Sonya's. Ever since then she has been spending every evening with me. It has become with her a kind of service. She sits at my bedside or near the great easy...
Входимость: 4. Размер: 120кб.
Часть текста: 56th Infantry Division was passing through the town. As I had come with the intention of joining some regiment and going to the war, the seventh of May already found me standing in the street at four o'clock in the morning among the grey ranks lined up outside the billet of the colonel of the 222nd Starobelsky Infantry Regiment. I had on a greatcoat with red shoulder-straps and blue tabs, and a cap with a blue band; across my back was a pack, at my belt a cartridge pouch, in my hand a heavy rifle. The band struck up, and the colours were carried out of the colonel's lodgings. A command rang out; the regiment noiselessly presented arms. Then a terrific uproar arose: the colonel shouted a command, and this was taken up by the battalion and company commanders and the platoon NCO's. The result was a confused and to me quite unintelligible movement of greatcoats, which ended in the regiment stretching out in a long column and swinging off to the sounds of the regimental band, which blared out a gay march. I marched along, too, trying to keep in step with my neighbour. The pack pulled backwards, the heavy pouches forwards, the rifle kept slipping off my shoulder, and the collar of the greatcoat chafed my neck; but despite all these little discomforts, the music, the orderly...
Входимость: 3. Размер: 45кб.
Часть текста: away. But that was all I needed. I was free, I was an artist! Was not that the height of bliss? I wanted to get away from people and from St. Petersburg, so I took a boat and went out for a run along the seashore. The water, the sky, the city gleaming in the sun from afar, the blue woods skirting the shores of the bay, the mast tops in the Kronstadt roads, the dozens of steamboats and gliding sailing vessels that flew past me-all appeared to me in a new light. All this was mine, all was within my power, I could snatch it all, fling it upon the canvas, and set it before the mob, fascinated by the spell of art. True, one ought not to sell the bearskin before one has caught the bear; so far I could hardly be called a great artist. The boat swiftly cleaved the smooth sheet of water. The boatman, a tall, strong, handsome young man in a crimson shirt, steadily plied the oars, swinging his body backward and forward, and propelling the boat with powerful strokes. The sinking sun played upon his face and shirt with such striking effect that I was moved to make a sketch of him in colours. My little box containing canvases, paints and brushes was always with me. "Stop rowing and sit still for a minute while I paint you," I said. ' He lay on the oars. "Sit as though you were feathering the oars." He swung the oars back like a bird spreading its wings and froze in that beautiful attitude. I dashed off a pencil outline and began painting. I mixed the colours with a peculiar sense of joy. I knew that nothing would tear me away from them as long as I lived. The boatman quickly began to tire; the dashing expression of his face gave place to a dull apathetic look. He began to yawn, and once even wiped his face with his sleeve, to do which he had to bend his head down to the oar. The folds of his shirt...
Входимость: 2. Размер: 40кб.
Часть текста: But the two young attendants did not laugh: after two days and sleepless nights spent alone with the madman, whom they had just brought down by railway, they could barely stand on their feet. At the last station but one he had become so violent that he had had to be put in a strait jacket, for which purpose the assistance of the guards and a policeman had had to be resorted to. Thus bound he was brought to town and delivered at the hospital. He looked ghastly. Over his grey garment, which had been torn to shreds during his outburst of violence, was a tightly laced jacket of coarse canvas cut low at the neck; the long sleeves pinioned his crossed arms over his chest and were tied behind his back. His bloodshot dilated eyes (he had not slept for ten days) glittered with a feverish blazing light; his lower lip twitched with a nervous spasm; his curly matted hair hung over his forehead like a mane; he paced from corner to corner of the office with swift heavy strides, staring fixedly at the old file cabinets and the oilcloth-covered chairs, and throwing an occasional glance at his companions. "Take him in. The building on the right." "I know. I was here last year. We were inspecting the hospital. I know all about it, it will be difficult to deceive me," said the patient. He turned towards the door. The door-keeper opened it to let him pass through; he walked out of the office with the same swift, heavy, resolute stride, his demented head held high, and made for the mental department on the right almost at a run. His attendants were barely able to keep up with him. "Ring the bell. I can't do it, you have tied my hands." The door-keeper opened the door, and the patient and his attendants entered the hospital. It was a large stone building of old-fashioned construction. Two large halls-one a dining-room, the other a common room for the quiet inmates-a wide passage with a glass door leading ...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 54кб.
Часть текста: Why are we shocked when the papers report a murder involving the lives of only a few people? Why does the sight of bullet-riddled corpses strewing the battle-field horrify us less than the spectacle of a home despoiled by a murderer? Why is it that the Tiligulskaya embankment disaster, which took toll of a score or so of lives, caused a sensation throughout Russia, whereas outpost skirmishes involving "insignificant" losses of the same number of lives barely attract attention? Lvov, a medical student of my acquaintance, with whom I often have arguments about the war, told me the other day, "Well, Mr. Pacifist, we shall see how those humane convictions of yours will look in practice when you are taken into the army and made to shoot at other men." "They won't take me into the army, Vasily, because I'm enrolled in the militia." "But if the war drags on they will start drawing on the militia. Don't you worry, your turn will come, too." My heart sank. How is it that that thought had never occurred...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 3кб.
Часть текста: добрая. Не поверите, как мне жалко ее. И в то же время нужно сознаться, что для нее эта смерть - одно хорошее. Что ждет ее детей? Что хорошего в их жизни она увидела бы! Теперь грозное время. Наступают такие минуты, что только сильные духом перенесут их. И дети Варвары Николаевны, слабые барчуки, неспособные, по всей вероятности; недоучившиеся, не будут ли они раздавлены? Благо ей, что она не увидит будущего. От тетки получил тоже извещение. Письмо так и сквозит совершенным равнодушием и чуть ли даже не радостью, несмотря на печальные речи о "2-х женщинах и 17 сиротах" в 5 месяцах. Противные люди. О моих хождениях к Симашке я вам уже писал. Такой свинья, право. Краевичу напомню об его обещании выслать деньги. Какая милая вещица этот "Клен", просто прелесть. 97 Был ли у вас Сергей Ник.? "Встреча", как я вам уже писал, принята, а "Трус" ("Из зап. кн.") тоже, вероятно, пойдет в измененном виде. По крайней мере Щ. ничего не пишет мне, а он сказал, что если будет какое-нибудь препятствие, то известит. 98 Скоро начинаются выставки, и я примусь их "описывать" в "Русской Правде". Дня три уже как со мной живет Влад. Мих. У Марьи Дм. под полом издохли крысы (15 штук), и пока ломают пол и дезинфицируют комнату, она поселилась у Латкина, а сей последний перебрался на время ко мне. Павел Мих. переехал вчера от нас. На всякий случай вот его...