-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Портрет художника в юности
-
- Стр. 192/241
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
--
Hynes
has
no
brains
.
He
got
through
by
stewing
,
pure
stewing
.
--
Do
n't
mind
him
.
There
's
plenty
of
money
to
be
made
in
a
big
commercial
City
.
--
Depends
on
the
practice
.
--
EGO
CREDO
UT
VITA
PAUPERUM
EST
SIMPLICITER
ATROX
,
SIMPLICITER
SANGUINARIUS
ATROX
,
IN
LIVERPOOLIO
.
Their
voices
reached
his
ears
as
if
from
a
distance
in
interrupted
pulsation
.
She
was
preparing
to
go
away
with
her
companions
.
The
quick
light
shower
had
drawn
off
,
tarrying
in
clusters
of
diamonds
among
the
shrubs
of
the
quadrangle
where
an
exhalation
was
breathed
forth
by
the
blackened
earth
.
Their
trim
boots
prattled
as
they
stood
on
the
steps
of
the
colonnade
,
talking
quietly
and
gaily
,
glancing
at
the
clouds
,
holding
their
umbrellas
at
cunning
angles
against
the
few
last
raindrops
,
closing
them
again
,
holding
their
skirts
demurely
.
And
if
he
had
judged
her
harshly
?
If
her
life
were
a
simple
rosary
of
hours
,
her
life
simple
and
strange
as
a
bird
's
life
,
gay
in
the
morning
,
restless
all
day
,
tired
at
sundown
?
Her
heart
simple
and
wilful
as
a
bird
's
heart
?
*
*
*
Towards
dawn
he
awoke
.
O
what
sweet
music
!
His
soul
was
all
dewy
wet
.
Over
his
limbs
in
sleep
pale
cool
waves
of
light
had
passed
.
He
lay
still
,
as
if
his
soul
lay
amid
cool
waters
,
conscious
of
faint
sweet
music
.
His
mind
was
waking
slowly
to
a
tremulous
morning
knowledge
,
a
morning
inspiration
.
A
spirit
filled
him
,
pure
as
the
purest
water
,
sweet
as
dew
,
moving
as
music
.
But
how
faintly
it
was
inbreathed
,
how
passionlessly
,
as
if
the
seraphim
themselves
were
breathing
upon
him
!
His
soul
was
waking
slowly
,
fearing
to
awake
wholly
.
It
was
that
windless
hour
of
dawn
when
madness
wakes
and
strange
plants
open
to
the
light
and
the
moth
flies
forth
silently
.
