Martin EdenMacmillan, 1909 - Počet stran: 411 |
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afraid afternoon ain't answer arms asked bachelor of arts beauty began better brain breath Brissenden Burton's Magazine caught cents Cheese-Face dinner dream editor eyes face feel fellow felt forecastle gang gazed girl glanced hack-work hand head heard heart Herbert Spencer Judge Blount kiss knew Kreis laughed laundry learned lips living Lizzie looked mad lover magazines manuscripts Maria Martin Martin dear Martin Eden mind monism months Morris chair Morse mother never nigger heaven night nodded Oakland Olney paused pawnbroker pocket poem Ring of Bells Ruth Ruth's schooner seemed Shame shook shoulders sleep smiled Spencer starch storiettes story strong Tahiti talk tell There's thing thought thousand toil told turned vision voice waiting washa watched week wheel woman women wonder words write young
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Strana 396 - True; but you would have destroyed me out of your well-meaning. Yes, yes!' He shut off her attempted objection. 'You would have destroyed my writing and my career. Realism is imperative to my nature, and the bourgeois spirit hates realism. The bourgeoisie is cowardly. It is afraid of life. And all your effort was to make me afraid of life. You would have formalized me. You would have compressed me into a two-by-four pigeon-hole of life, where all life's values are unreal, and false, and vulgar.
Strana 110 - ... unity, elaborating ultimate realities, and presenting to his startled gaze a universe so concrete of realization that it was like the model of a ship such as sailors make and put into glass bottles. There was no caprice, no chance. All was law. It was in obedience to law that the bird flew, and it was in obedience to the same law that fermenting slime had writhed and squirmed, and put out legs and wings, and become a bird.
Strana 4 - He stepped back to the table, tore open the envelope, and began to read, giving the stranger an opportunity to recover himself. And the stranger understood and appreciated. His was the gift of sympathy, understanding; and beneath his alarmed exterior that sympathetic process went on. He mopped his forehead dry and glanced about him with a controlled face, though in the eyes there was an expression such as wild animals betray when they fear the trap. He was surrounded by the unknown, apprehensive...
Strana 37 - He tried to imagine himself her. gazing into those eyes of his, but failed in the jugglery. He could successfully put himself inside other men's minds, but they had to be men whose ways of life he knew. He did not know .her way of life. She was wonder and mystery, and how could he guess one thought of hers ? Well, they were honest eyes, he concluded, and in them was neither smallness nor meanness. The brown sunburn of his face surprised him. He had not dreamed he was so black. He rolled up his shirt-sleeve...
Strana 331 - The old law of development still holds. In the struggle for existence, as I have shown, the strong and the progeny of the strong tend to survive, while the weak and the progeny of the weak are crushed and tend to perish. The result is that the strong and the progeny of the strong survive, and, so long as the struggle obtains, the strength of each generation increases. That is development. But you slaves — it is too bad to be slaves...
Strana 109 - Blavatsky. There had been no understanding the book, and he had returned it unread. But this night, after algebra and physics, and an attempt at a sonnet, he got into bed and opened "First Principles." Morning found him still reading. It was impossible for him to sleep. Nor did he write that day. He lay on the bed till his body grew tired, when he tried the hard floor, reading on his back, the book held in the air above him, or changing from side to side. He slept that night, and did his writing...
Strana 185 - They sat on through the passing glory of the day, talking as lovers are prone to talk, marvelling at the wonder of love and at destiny that had flung them so strangely together, and dogmatically believing that they loved to a degree never attained by lovers before. And they returned insistently, again and again, to a rehearsal of their first impressions of each other and to hopeless attempts to analyze just precisely what they felt for each other and how much there was of it. The cloud-masses on...
Strana 106 - Who are you, Martin Eden? he demanded of himself in the looking-glass, that night, when he got back to his room. He gazed at himself long and curiously. Who are you? What are you? Where do you belong? You belong by rights to girls like Lizzie Connolly. You belong with the legions of toil, with all that is low, and vulgar, and unbeautiful. You belong with the oxen and the drudges, in dirty surroundings among smells and stenches. There are the stale vegetables now. Those potatoes are rotting. Smell...