The Waves
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автордың кітабынан сөз тіркестері  The Waves

Анна А.
Анна А.дәйексөз келтірді10 жыл бұрын
Yet I think it is likely that the best are made in solitude.
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ksenia
kseniaдәйексөз келтірді4 жыл бұрын
Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends, I to my own heart, I to seek among phrases and fragments something unbroken—I to whom there is not beauty enough in moon or tree; to whom the touch of one person with another is all, yet who cannot grasp even that, who am so imperfect, so weak, so unspeakably lonely. There I sat.
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ksenia
kseniaдәйексөз келтірді4 жыл бұрын
The world is beginning to move past me like the banks of a hedge when the train starts, like the waves of the sea when a steamer moves.
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ksenia
kseniaдәйексөз келтірді4 жыл бұрын
To be loved by Susan would be to be impaled by a bird's sharp beak, to be nailed to a barnyard door. Yet there are moments when I could wish to be speared by a beak, to be nailed to a barnyard door, positively, once and for all.
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Алёна Власова
Алёна Власовадәйексөз келтірді5 жыл бұрын
Islands of light are swimming on the grass,' said Rhoda. 'They have fallen through the trees.'
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The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually.
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tavi
taviдәйексөз келтірді6 жыл бұрын
I feel a thousand capacities spring up in me.
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tavi
taviдәйексөз келтірді6 жыл бұрын
I feel a thousand capacities spring up in me.
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Nadya Bessonova
Nadya Bessonovaдәйексөз келтірді7 жыл бұрын
"It does not matter whom I meet. All this little affair of 'being' is over. Who this is I do not know; nor care; we will dine together." So I hung up my coat, tapped you on the shoulder, and said, "Sit with me."
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Nadya Bessonova
Nadya Bessonovaдәйексөз келтірді7 жыл бұрын
Our friends, how seldom visited, how little known—it is true; and yet, when I meet an unknown person, and try to break off, here at this table, what I call "my life", it is not one life that I look back upon; I am not one person; I am many people; I do not altogether know who I am—Jinny, Susan, Neville, Rhoda, or Louis; or how to distinguish my life from theirs.
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