Bokelskere.no

I think the dancing-school a tiresome affair, and wonder why the girls can't dance by themselves and leave us alone.

Om ein talar derimot blir kritisert for ein feil, meiner ein den kjem av dumskap. Og for dumskap finst det inga orsaking, for at einkvan har vore dum, blir ikkje orsaka med at han hadde 'vondt i magen' eller at han 'var i det lunet'. Som talarar må vi tola ein hardare dom. Kvar gong vi tek ordet, blir vi dømde. Ein held ikkje nokon for ukunnig i scenekunst sjølv om han ein gong har gjort feil, men ein talar som har vorte kritisert, han held ein for tungnæm, anten for evig og alltid, eller i alle høve for ei lang tid.

'If you will do her that favour, Copperfield,' replied Mr. Micawber, rising. 'I have no scruple in saying, in the presence of our friends here, that I am a man who has, for some years, contended against the pressure of pecuniary difficulties.' I knew he was certain to say something of this kind; he always would be so boastful about his difficulties. 'Sometimes I have risen superior to my difficulties. Sometimes my difficulties have — in short, have floored me. There have been times when I have administered a succession of facers to them; there have been times when they have been too many for me, and I have given in, and said to Mrs. Micawber, in the words of Cato, "Plato, thou reasonest well. It's all up now. I can show fight no more." But at no time of my life,' said Mr. Micawber, 'have I enjoyed a higher degree of satisfaction than in pouring my griefs (if I may describe difficulties, chiefly arising out of warrants of attorney and promissory notes at two and four months, by that word) into the bosom of my friend Copperfield.'

I won’t provoke my betters with knowledge, thank you. I’m too much umble.

Og jeg ser for meg det tomme bordet på Theatercafeen, med mitt navn på, Barnum Nilsen, kl. 20.00, det eneste bordet som ingen setter seg ved, og dette er også et ekko, et ekko av tid, skyggen av en diskos som spinner gjennom blendende sol.

Bente Synt var ikkje fornøyd med svaret. – Har du noen nye prosjekter på gang? spurte hun. – Jeg jobber med en moderne versjon av Dantes Guddommelige Komedie. – Javel? – Jeg tenker meg storbyen som helvete og Beatrice er guide i et reiseselskap.»

Vivian løftet glasset sitt. – Hva skal vi egentlig med steder? Kan du fortelle meg det? Jeg satte glasset ned på den seige ølbrikken. – De gjør oss hele, sa jeg lavt.

Vi stemmer ikke over hvem som skal eie, over maktposisjonene på arbeidsplassen. Alt dette er overlatt til personer som står utenfor den politiske sfæren.

'I suppose history never lies, does it?' said Mr Dick, with a gleam of hope.
'Oh dear, no sir!' I replied, most decisively. I was ingenious and young, and I thought so.

Tant qu'y a d' la vie, y a d' l'espoir.

Og hele dagen sitter vi på svaberget nede ved stupebrettet, mens moren har parkert stolen i den blafrende skyggen under epletreet og der maler hun oss. Hun har en stor, hvit hatt på hodet og mer ser vi ikke av henne. Det er ikke en eneste sky på himmelen, vi blir brune og det er akkurat som om Peders hår falmer, det kler ham, selv om han ser ganske sur ut. Jeg lurer på om moren klarer å male det, at vi forandrer oss, før bildet er ferdig, at vi ikke lenger er de samme. Men vi får ikke se hva hun maler. Faren kommer med kald appelsinsaft når vi blir tørste og hver time bader vi. Vi hopper på likt fra stupebrettet og synker helt til føttene når de glatte steinene og der skyver vi fra og svømmer opp i solen som henger i en tråd av skinnende dråper. – Jeg har dere snart! roper moren. Og vi setter oss på plass igjen og er tørre med det samme. Moren nynner en kjent melodi, under epletreet, under den brede, hvite hatten, bak staffeliet, og når jeg siden hørte denne låten kunne jeg kjenne heten på svaberget den dagen, jeg måtte lukke øynene for ikke å bli blendet og duften av varm solkrem og tobakk fylte meg med en underlig, sitrende sorg jeg ikke helt kunne begripe, for alsri hadde jeg hatt det bedre enn da, på det hete svaberget, Ildtjernet, sommeren med Peder, og kanskje det er akkurat dette som er navet i sorgens hjul, som spinner gjennom våre liv, at det er forbi, at øyeblikket akkurat er forlatt. – Jeg har dere snart! roper moren en gang til. Og selv Peder smiler, trekker inn magen og prøver å vise muskler. Faren slipper isbiter i glassene våre, en klirrende, kjølig lyd på bunnen av solen.

‘Then Mr M’Choakumchild said he would try me once more. And he said, Here are the stutterings — ’

‘Statistics,’ said Louisa.

‘Yes, Miss Louisa — they always remind me of stutterings, and that’s another of my mistakes — of accidents upon the sea. And I find (Mr M’Choakumchild said) that in a given time a hundred thousand persons went to sea on long voyages, and only five hundred of them were drowned or burnt to death. What is the percentage? And I said, Miss;’ here Sissy fairly sobbed as confessing with extreme contrition to her greatest error; ‘I said it was nothing.’

‘Nothing, Sissy?’

‘Nothing, Miss — to the relations and friends of the people who were killed. I shall never learn,’ said Sissy. ‘And the worst of all is, that although my poor father wished me so much to learn, and although I am so anxious to learn, because he wished me to, I am afraid I don’t like it.’

Then Mr M’Choakumchild said he would try me again. And he said, This schoolroom is an immense town, and in it there are a million of inhabitants, and only five-and-twenty are starved to death in the streets, in the course of a year. What is your remark on that proportion? And my remark was — for I couldn’t think of a better one — that I thought it must be just as hard upon those who were starved, whether the others were a million, or a million million. And that was wrong, too.’

‘Of course it was.’

‘You don’t know,’ said Sissy, half crying, ‘what a stupid girl I am. All through school hours I make mistakes. Mr and Mrs M’Choakumchild call me up, over and over again, regularly to make mistakes. I can’t help them. They seem to come natural to me.’

‘Mr and Mrs M’Choakumchild never make any mistakes themselves, I suppose, Sissy?’

‘O no!’ she eagerly returned. ‘They know everything.’

‘Tell me some of your mistakes.’

‘I am almost ashamed,’ said Sissy, with reluctance. ‘But today, for instance, Mr M’Choakumchild was explaining to us about Natural Prosperity.’

‘National, I think it must have been,’ observed Louisa.

‘Yes, it was. — But isn’t it the same?’ she timidly asked.

‘You had better say, National, as he said so,’ returned Louisa, with her dry reserve.

‘National Prosperity. And he said, Now, this schoolroom is a Nation. And in this nation, there are fifty millions of money. Isn’t this a prosperous nation? Girl number twenty, isn’t this a prosperous nation, and a’n’t you in a thriving state?’

‘What did you say?’ asked Louisa.

‘Miss Louisa, I said I didn’t know. I thought I couldn’t know whether it was a prosperous nation or not, and whether I was in a thriving state or not, unless I knew who had got the money, and whether any of it was mine. But that had nothing to do with it. It was not in the figures at all,’ said Sissy, wiping her eyes.

When she was half a dozen years younger, Louisa had been overheard to begin a conversation with her brother one day, by saying ‘Tom, I wonder’ — upon which Mr Gradgrind, who was the person overhearing, stepped forth into the light and said, ‘Louisa, never wonder!’

Herein lay the spring of the mechanical art and mystery of educating the reason without stooping to the cultivation of the sentiments and affections. Never wonder. By means of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, settle everything somehow, and never wonder. Bring to me, says M‘Choakumchild, yonder baby just able to walk, and I will engage that it shall never wonder.

Now, besides very many babies just able to walk, there happened to be in Coketown a considerable population of babies who had been walking against time towards the infinite world, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years and more. These portentous infants being alarming creatures to stalk about in any human society, the eighteen denominations incessantly scratched one another’s faces and pulled one another’s hair by way of agreeing on the steps to be taken for their improvement — which they never did; a surprising circumstance, when the happy adaptation of the means to the end is considered. Still, although they differed in every other particular, conceivable and inconceivable (especially inconceivable), they were pretty well united on the point that these unlucky infants were never to wonder. Body number one, said they must take everything on trust. Body number two, said they must take everything on political economy. Body number three, wrote leaden little books for them, showing how the good grown-up baby invariably got to the Savings-bank, and the bad grown-up baby invariably got transported. Body number four, under dreary pretences of being droll (when it was very melancholy indeed), made the shallowest pretences of concealing pitfalls of knowledge, into which it was the duty of these babies to be smuggled and inveigled. But, all the bodies agreed that they were never to wonder.

Som dine dagar er, skal din styrke vera.

(5 Mos 33,25)

Also, how the Doctor's cogitating manner was attributable to his being always engaged in looking out for Greek roots; which, in my innocence and ignorance, I supposed to be a botanical furor on the Doctor's part, especially as he always looked at the ground when he walked about, until I understood that they were roots of words, with a view to a new Dictionary which he had in contemplation. Adams, our head-boy, who had a turn for mathematics, had made a calculation, I was informed, of the time this Dictionary would take in completing, on the Doctor's plan, and at the Doctor's rate of going. He considered that it might be done in one thousand six hundred and forty-nine years, counting from the Doctor's last, or sixty-second, birthday.

So, Mr. M'Choakumchild began in his best manner. He and some one hundred and forty other schoolmasters, had been lately turned at the same time, in the same factory, on the same principles, like so many pianoforte legs. He had been put through an immense variety of paces, and had answered volumes of head-breaking questions. Orthography, etymology, syntax, and prosody, biography, astronomy, geography, and general cosmography, the sciences of compound proportion, algebra, land-surveying and leveling, vocal music, and drawing from models, were all at the ends of his ten chilled fingers. He had worked his stony way into Her Majesty's most Honourable Privy Council's Schedule B, and had taken the bloom off the higher branches of mathematics and physical science, French, German, Latin, and Greek. He knew all about all the Water Sheds of all the world (whatever they are), and all the histories of all the peoples, and all the names of all the rivers and mountains, and all the productions, manners, and customs of all the countries, and all their boundaries and bearings on the two and thirty points of the compass