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Jeg lurer på hvor alle de vanskelige tankene bodde før jeg tenkte dem.
Move as swift as a wind, stay as silent as forest, attack as fierce as fire, undefeatable defense like a mountain
«Vik herfra, angst! Hvorfor oppsøker du alltid meg?»
Fra side 627 i Den fjerde nattevakt av Johan Falkberget.
«Hvil i fred, Du trætte vandringsmand,
her paa Dødens skyggefulde Strand!»
Fra side 442 i Den fjerde nattevakt av Johan Falkberget.
«Kan it to som sit og ro båten åt kvar si lei, få lov å legg inn åran att?»
«Om de kan skilles igjen?»
«Ja.»
Fra side 441 i Den fjerde nattevakt av Johan Falkberget.
Angsten hadde engang ett seg inn i hennes sjel. Ved alt det som var og ved alt det som ville komme, var det angst. Å, denne grenseløse angst fulgte tanken som skyggen fulgte legemet. Hun kunne ikke flykte fra den. Om hun så flyktet til verdens ytterst grense, ville den ile ved siden av henne hele veien.
Endelig gled så hennes øyne langsomt i. Hun kjente angsten gjennom søvnen også, men så ble søvnen den sterkeste - den skjønne, sterke søvn.
Fra Den fjerde nattevakt.
utilsiktet familieportrett #3
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for hvert familiemedlem
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etter hver sammenkomst
ikke fortell det til noen
i går spiste jeg en pakke
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følte meg 'høy'
føler meg som en skikkelig grinete gubbe når jeg sitter på trikken / maks to holdeplasser / jeg løper resten av strekningen / kaster meg ned på senga og skriker inn i puta så fort jeg er kommet hjem / seinere på kvelden drikker jeg grønn te / og hører på en lydbok av hanne ørstavik / iblant kjøper jeg melk og brød på bensinstasjonen / ingenting hindrer meg i å leve livet
Harry dro litt på smilebåndet. Han likte henne så langt, men var selvfølgelig åpen for å skifte mening. Harry var alltid villig til å gi folk en ny sjanse til å havne på svartelista
The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit of us; but, so far, we are pursued by nothing else.
It was such a curious corner in its acoustical properties, such a peculiar Ear of a place, that as Mr. Lorry stood at the open window, looking for the father and daughter whose steps he heard, he fancied they would never approach. Not only would the echoes die away, as though the steps had gone; but, echoes of other steps that never came would be heard in their stead, and would die away for good when they seemed close at hand.
on unfavourable Sundays, he was accustomed to be with them as the family friend, talking, reading, looking out of window, and generally getting through the day;
Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away.
They went into a dingy room lined with books and littered with papers, where there was a blazing fire. A kettle steamed upon the hob, and in the midst of the wreck of papers a table shone, with plenty of wine upon it, and brandy, and rum, and sugar, and lemons.
His linen, though not of a fineness in accordance with his stockings, was as white as the tops of the waves that broke upon the neighbouring beach, or the specks of sail that glinted in the sunlight far at sea.
When they took a young man into Tellson's London house, they hid him somewhere till he was old. They kept him in a dark place, like a cheese, until he had the full Tellson flavour and blue-mould upon him. Then only was he permitted to be seen, spectaculary poring over large books, and casting his breeches and gaiters into the general weight of the establishment.
Even been kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked downstairs? Decidedly not; once received a kick on the top of a staircase, and fell downstairs of his own accord.
LORD POLONIUS
(...)
What do you read, my lord?
HAMLET
Words, words, words.
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fin blogg du har
ses på spinning etterpå