Bokelskere.no

Men mørke kvelder var en lykke. Tenne lys, krype opp i sofaen, finne ro i en bok, mørket hadde aldri skremt henne, tvert imot. Solrike dager og netter opplevdes som et press om å være våken og til stede og glad og sosial til enhver tid, mens mørket ga henne muligheten til å hvile i sitt eget selskap.

Så lukker vi deg i vårt hjerte inn og gjemmer deg innerst inne. Der skal du fredfullt få bo i vårt sinn, som et kjært og dyrebart minne.

Vint was an excellent craftsman, however, and could get all the portrait work he desired—more, in fact, than he wanted to paint. He needed the money he made from portraits to be able to work on the abstracts he preferred to paint. But because he hated to do portraits, he also hated the people who sat for them and provided him with large sums for flattering likenesses. He got “revenge” on the sitters by painting a fly on them.

Jeg reiste til Vietnam med en hemmelig fantasi om at jeg skulle dø der, så jeg slapp å hanskes med tilværelsens slit og gjenvordigheter. Men å dø er mye vanskeligere enn å fortsette å leve.

Carmen Morales bodde fire år i Mexico by. De to første var ensomheten og nøden så stor at hun fikk sans for lesning, noe hun aldri hadde trodd var mulig.

Likevel var ingenting enkelt. Han ville ikke leve. Men han visste ikke om han ville dø av den grunn. Håpet hadde bare forsvunnet. Bare skammen var igjen, og det hamrende sinnet som ikke lenger var annet enn en imploderende kraft, et sverd som ble vendt innover, og han orket ikke mer. Han holdt det ikke ut.

Johannes Forsell løp så det dunket i tinningene, og i tankene hans drønnet et helt liv. Men ingenting av det – ikke engang de lykkeligste stundene – bar med seg den minste strime av lys. Han forsøkte å tenke på Becka og sønnene. Men det eneste som dukket opp hos ham, var skuffelsen og skammen i øynene deres, og da han langt borte, som fra en annen verden, hørte fuglene, fremsto de som uforståelige for ham. Hvordan kunne noen synge eller ha lyst til å leve?

and John introduced him, I thought I never saw anybody so handsome before.” Here Catherine secretly acknowledged the power of love; for, though exceedingly fond of her brother, and partial to all his endowments, she had never in her life thought him handsome.

and if a rainy morning deprived them of other enjoyments, they were still resolute in meeting in defiance of wet and dirt, and shut themselves up, to read novels together.

Compliments on good looks now passed; and, after observing how time had slipped away since they were last together, how little they had thought of meeting in Bath, and what a pleasure it was to see an old friend, they proceeded to make inquiries and give intelligence as to their families, sisters, and cousins, talking both together, far more ready to give than to receive information, and each hearing very little of what the other said.

My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during sleep alone that I could taste joy. O blessed sleep!

Company was irksome to me; when alone, I could fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of Henry soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory peace. But busy, uninteresting, joyous faces brought back despair to my heart. I saw an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow men;

I shunned the face of man; all sound of joy or complacency was torture to me; solitude was my only consolation—deep, dark, deathlike solitude.

Live, and be happy, and make others so.

On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully, "I have a pretty present for my Victor—tomorrow he shall have it." And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.

But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy, and the absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil, I have no friend, Margaret:

I am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets of Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which braces my nerves and fills me with delight. Do you understand this feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes.

Øystein Eikeland hadde et enkelt liv. Han stod opp. Eller ikke.

«Det kan vi ikke gjøre før vi har hatt bryllupsseremonien vår,» sa Ohene forskrekket. Alle barna hadde hørt fablene om folk som delte seng før bryllupsseremonien: de usannsynlige - om peniser som ble til trær mens mannen fortsatt var inni kvinnen, så det vokste grener inn i magen hennes og han ikke kunne forlate kroppen hennes; de enklere, sannere, om bortvisning, bøter og skam.