en

William Somerset Maugham

  • elf1001цитираминалата година
    I had not yet learnt how contradictory is human nature; I did not know how much pose there is in the sincere, how much baseness in the noble, nor how much goodness in the reprobate.
  • elf1001цитираминалата година
    "You are a most unmitigated cad."
    "Now that you've got that off your chest, let's go and have dinner."
  • elf1001цитираминалата година
    But the fear of not being able to carry it through effectively has always made me shy of assuming the moral attitude; and in this case the certainty that my sentiments would be lost on Strickland made it peculiarly embarrassing to utter them.
  • elf1001цитираминалата година
    But though he said nothing of any consequence, there was something in his personality which prevented him from being dull. Perhaps it was sincerity.
  • elf1001цитираминалата година
    but commonplace is precisely what I felt he was not.

    В начале же произведения он как раз описан как common и dull

  • elf1001цитираминалата година
    And it was just that which had most disconcerted me in my dealings with him. When people say they do not care what others think of them, for the most part they deceive themselves.
  • elf1001цитираминалата година
    But the desire for approbation is perhaps the most deeply seated instinct of civilised man.
  • elf1001цитираминалата година
    It is not true that suffering ennobles the character; happiness does that sometimes, but suffering, for the most part, makes men petty and vindictive.
  • elf1001цитираминалата година
    Dirk, you make me impatient," said Mrs. Stroeve. "How can you talk like that about his pictures when he treated you as he did?"
  • elf1001цитираминалата година
    I certainly should never have known him. In the first place his red beard, ragged and untrimmed, hid much of his face, and his hair was long; but the most surprising change in him was his extreme thinness. It made his great nose protrude more arrogantly; it emphasized his cheekbones; it made his eyes seem larger. There were deep hollows at his temples. His body was cadaverous. He wore the same suit that I had seen him in five years before; it was torn and stained, threadbare, and it hung upon him loosely, as though it had been made for someone else. I noticed his hands, dirty, with long nails; they were merely bone and sinew, large and strong; but I had forgotten that they were so shapely.

    Стриклэнд как будто становится более явно прорисованным с его заострившимися чертами, про него уже нельзя сказать «никакой, обычный»

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