Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "JOURNALIST"
Входимость: 2. Размер: 15кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 47кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 20кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 23кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 28кб.
Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах
Входимость: 2. Размер: 15кб.
Часть текста: are there no heaps of gold to be seen lying on their tables, but also there is very little money to be seen at all. Of course, during the season, some madman or another may make his appearance--generally an Englishman, or an Asiatic, or a Turk--and (as had happened during the summer of which I write) win or lose a great deal; but, as regards the rest of the crowd, it plays only for petty gulden, and seldom does much wealth figure on the board. When, on the present occasion, I entered the gaming-rooms (for the first time in my life), it was several moments before I could even make up my mind to play. For one thing, the crowd oppressed me. Had I been playing for myself, I think I should have left at once, and never have embarked upon gambling at all, for I could feel my heart beginning to beat, and my heart was anything but cold-blooded. Also, I knew, I had long ago made up my mind, that never should I depart from Roulettenberg until some radical, some final, change had taken place in my fortunes. Thus, it must and would be. However ridiculous it may seem to you that I was expecting to win at roulette, I look upon the generally accepted opinion concerning the folly and the grossness of hoping to win at gambling as a thing even more absurd. For why is gambling a whit worse than any other method of acquiring money? How, for instance, is it worse than trade? True, out of a hundred persons, only one can...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 47кб.
Часть текста: fever. Though his health had long been affected, it had offered a stubborn resistance to the fever which in the end gained complete mastery over it. Though I know nothing of medicine, I venture to hazard the suggestion that he really had perhaps, by a terrible effort of will, succeeded in delaying the attack for a time, hoping, of course, to check it completely. He knew that he was unwell, but he loathed the thought of being ill at that fatal time, at the approaching crisis in his life, when he needed to have all his wits about him, to say what he had to say boldly and resolutely and "to justify himself to himself." He had, however, consulted the new doctor, who had been brought from Moscow by a fantastic notion of Katerina Ivanovna's to which I have referred already. After listening to him and examining him the doctor came to the conclusion that he was actually suffering from some disorder of the brain, and was not at all surprised by an admission which Ivan had reluctantly made him. "Hallucinations are quite likely in your condition," the doctor opined, 'though it would be better to verify them... you must take steps at...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 20кб.
Часть текста: "Come, Masloboev,, old boy, you're talking nonsense!" I interrupted. "Generals look very different from me even if they are literary ones, and besides, let me tell you, I certainly do remember having met you twice in the street. But you obviously. avoided me. And why should I go up to a man if I see he's trying to avoid me? And do you know what I believe? If you weren't drunk you wouldn't have called to me even now. That's true, isn't it? Well, how are you? I'm very, very glad to have met you, my boy." "Really? And I'm not compromising you by my. . . 'unconventional' appearance? But there's no need to ask that. It's not a great matter; I always remember what a jolly chap you were, old Vanya. Do you remember you took a thrashing for me? You held your tongue and didn't give me away, and, instead of being grateful, I jeered at you for a week afterwards. You're a blessed innocent! Glad to see you, my dear soul!" (We kissed each other.) "How many years I've been pining in solitude - 'From morn till night, from dark till light but I've not forgotten old times. They're not easy to forget. But what have you been doing, what have you been doing?" "I? Why, I'm pining in solitude, too." He gave me a long look, full of the deep feeling of a man slightly inebriated; though he was a very good-natured fellow at any time. "No, Vanya, your case is not like mine," he brought out at last in a tragic tone. "I've read it, Vanya, you know, I've read it, I've read it! ... But I say, let us have a good talk! Are you in a hurry?" "I am in a hurry, and I must confess I'm very much upset about something. I'll tell you what's better. Where do you live?" "I'll tell you. But that's not better; shall I tell you what is better?" "Why, what?" "Why, this, do you see?" and he pointed out to me a sign a few yards from where we were...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 23кб.
Часть текста: him: had Svidrigailov been to Porfiry's? As far as he could judge, he would swear to it, that he had not. He pondered again and again, went over Porfiry's visit; no, he hadn't been, of course he hadn't. But if he had not been yet, would he go? Meanwhile, for the present he fancied he couldn't. Why? He could not have explained, but if he could, he would not have wasted much thought over it at the moment. It all worried him and at the same time he could not attend to it. Strange to say, none would have believed it perhaps, but he only felt a faint vague anxiety about his immediate future. Another, much more important anxiety tormented him- it concerned himself, but in a different, more vital way. Moreover, he was conscious of immense moral fatigue, though his mind was working better that morning than it had done of late. And was it worth while, after all that had happened, to contend with these new trivial difficulties? Was it worth while, for instance, to manoeuvre that Svidrigailov should not go to Porfiry's? Was it worth while to investigate, to ascertain the facts, to waste time over any one like Svidrigailov? Oh how sick he was of it all! And yet he was hastening to Svidrigailov; could he be expecting something new from him, information, or means of escape? Men will catch at straws! Was it destiny or some instinct bringing them together? Perhaps it was only fatigue, despair; perhaps it was not Svidrigailov but some other whom he needed,...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 28кб.
Часть текста: hideous setting Of thy life's current ere I came: When suddenly I saw thee sicken, And weeping, hide thine anguished face, Revolted, maddened, horror-stricken, At memories of foul disgrace. NEKRASSOV Chapter I AT THAT TIME I was only twenty-four. My life was even then gloomy, ill- regulated, and as solitary as that of a savage. I made friends with no one and positively avoided talking, and buried myself more and more in my hole. At work in the office I never looked at anyone, and was perfectly well aware that my companions looked upon me, not only as a queer fellow, but even looked upon me--I always fancied this--with a sort of loathing. I sometimes wondered why it was that nobody except me fancied that he was looked upon with aversion? One of the clerks had a most repulsive, pock-marked face, which looked positively villainous. I believe I should not have dared to look at anyone with such an unsightly countenance. Another had such a very dirty old uniform that there was an unpleasant odour in his proximity. Yet not one of these gentlemen showed the slightest self-consciousness--either about...