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- Джон Фоулз
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- Коллекционер
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- Стр. 254/299
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People
who
don
’
t
make
anything
.
I
hate
them
.
How
frightened
of
dying
I
was
in
those
first
days
.
I
don
’
t
want
to
die
because
I
keep
on
thinking
of
the
future
.
I
’
m
desperately
curious
to
know
what
life
will
bring
to
me
.
What
will
happen
to
me
,
how
I
’
ll
develop
,
what
I
’
ll
be
in
five
years
’
time
,
in
ten
,
in
thirty
.
The
man
I
will
marry
and
the
places
I
will
live
in
and
get
to
know
.
Children
.
It
isn
’
t
just
a
selfish
curiosity
.
This
is
the
worst
possible
time
in
history
to
die
.
Space
-
travel
,
science
,
the
whole
world
waking
up
and
stretching
itself
.
A
new
age
is
beginning
.
I
know
it
’
s
dangerous
.
But
it
’
s
wonderful
to
be
alive
in
it
.
I
love
,
I
adore
my
age
.
I
keep
on
having
thoughts
today
.
One
was
:
uncreative
men
plus
opportunity
-
to
-
create
equals
evil
men
.
Another
one
was
:
killing
him
was
breaking
my
word
to
what
I
believe
.
Some
people
would
say
—
you
’
re
only
a
drop
,
your
word
-
breaking
is
only
a
drop
,
it
wouldn
’
t
matter
.
But
all
the
evil
in
the
world
’
s
made
up
of
little
drops
.
It
’
s
silly
talking
about
the
unimportance
of
the
little
drops
.
The
little
drops
and
the
ocean
are
the
same
thing
.
I
’
ve
been
daydreaming
(
not
for
the
first
time
)
about
living
with
G
.
P
.
He
deceives
me
,
he
leaves
me
,
he
is
brutal
and
cynical
with
me
,
I
am
in
despair
.
In
these
daydreams
there
isn
’
t
much
sex
,
it
’
s
just
our
living
together
.
In
rather
romantic
surroundings
.
Sea
-
and
-
island
northern
landscapes
.
White
cottages
.
Sometimes
in
the
Mediterranean
.
We
are
together
,
very
close
in
spirit
.
All
silly
magazine
stuff
,
really
,
in
the
details
.
But
there
is
the
closeness
of
spirit
.
That
is
something
real
.
And
the
situations
I
imagine
(
where
he
forsakes
me
)
are
real
.
I
mean
,
it
kills
me
to
think
of
them
.
Sometimes
I
’
m
not
very
far
from
utter
despair
.
No
one
knows
I
am
alive
any
more
.
I
’
m
given
up
for
dead
by
now
,
I
’
m
accepted
for
dead
.
There
’
s
that
—
the
real
situation
.
And
there
are
the
future
situations
I
sit
on
the
bed
here
and
think
about
:
my
utter
love
for
some
man
;
I
know
I
can
’
t
do
things
like
love
by
halves
,
I
know
I
have
love
pent
up
in
me
,
I
shall
throw
myself
away
,
lose
my
heart
and
my
body
and
my
mind
and
soul
to
some
cad
like
G
.
P
.
Who
’
ll
betray
me
.
I
feel
it
.
Everything
is
tender
and
rational
at
first
in
my
daydreams
of
living
with
him
,
but
I
know
it
wouldn
’
t
be
in
fact
.
It
would
be
all
passion
and
violence
.
Jealousy
.
Despair
.
Sour
.
Something
would
be
killed
in
me
.
He
would
be
hurt
,
too
.
If
he
really
loved
me
he
couldn
’
t
have
sent
me
away
.
