-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Улисс
-
- Стр. 265/821
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
—
He
will
have
it
that
Hamlet
is
a
ghoststory
,
John
Eglinton
said
for
Mr
Best
’
s
behoof
.
Like
the
fat
boy
in
Pickwick
he
wants
to
make
our
flesh
creep
.
List
!
List
!
O
List
!
My
flesh
hears
him
:
creeping
,
hears
.
If
thou
didst
ever
.
.
.
—
What
is
a
ghost
?
Stephen
said
with
tingling
energy
.
One
who
has
faded
into
impalpability
through
death
,
through
absence
,
through
change
of
manners
.
Elizabethan
London
lay
as
far
from
Stratford
as
corrupt
Paris
lies
from
virgin
Dublin
.
Who
is
the
ghost
from
limbo
patrum
,
returning
to
the
world
that
has
forgotten
him
?
Who
is
King
Hamlet
?
John
Eglinton
shifted
his
spare
body
,
leaning
back
to
judge
.
Lifted
.
—
It
is
this
hour
of
a
day
in
mid
June
,
Stephen
said
,
begging
with
a
swift
glance
their
hearing
.
The
flag
is
up
on
the
playhouse
by
the
bankside
.
The
bear
Sackerson
growls
in
the
pit
near
it
,
Paris
garden
.
Canvasclimbers
who
sailed
with
Drake
chew
their
sausages
among
the
groundlings
.
Local
colour
.
Work
in
all
you
know
.
Make
them
accomplices
.
