Bokelskere.no

Svikt ikke en gammel venn,
for en ny er ikke hans like.
En ny venn er som ny vin,
først når den blir gammel, drikkes den med glede,

ERHART bukker let
Og hvad vil - hvad vil så far gøre?

BORKMAN
Oprejse mig selv, Begynde nedenfra igen. Det er bare gennem sin nutid og fremtid, at et menneske kan sone fortiden. Gennem arbejde, - gennem ustanselig arbejde for alt det, som i ungdommen stod for mig som selve livet. [...].

Mrs. Gummidge moaned.

'Cheer up, Mawther!' cried Mr. Peggotty.

'I feel it more than anybody else,' said Mrs. Gummidge; 'I'm a lone lorn creetur', and she used to be a'most the only thing that didn't go contrary with me.'

Mrs. Gummidge, whimpering and shaking her head, applied herself to blowing the fire. Mr. Peggotty, looking round upon us while she was so engaged, said in a low voice, which he shaded with his hand: 'The old 'un!' From this I rightly conjectured that no improvement had taken place since my last visit in the state of Mrs. Gummidge's spirits.

Det var eit underlegt hol, denne latinskulen. Alle gutane var so vituge og so vaksne; dei kunde flire og læ åt all ting. Men dei hadde visst aldri drøymt um anna enn karakterar. Dei visste at i denne verdi galdt det å klara seg; og etter den visdomen livde dei; kunnskapen i seg sjølv vedkom deim liksom ikkje.

ELLA RENTHEIM
[...] Den store nådeløse synd, - det er at myrde kærlighedslivet i et menneske.

BORKMAN
Livet er ikke altid det dyreste.

ELLA RENTHEIM
Årene har taget hårdt og høstligt på mig, Borkman.

BORKMAN
Vi har bedraget hinanden gensidig altså. Og kanske bedraget os selv - begge to.

FOLDAL
Men er da ikke det i grunden venskab, John Gabriel?

Sir Leicester is twenty years, full measure, older than my Lady. He will never see sixty-five again, nor perhaps sixty-six, nor yet sixty-seven. He has a twist of the gout now and then and walks a little stiffly. He is of a worthy presence, with his light-grey hair and whiskers, his fine shirt-frill, his pure-white waistcoat, and his blue coat with bright buttons always buttoned. He is ceremonious, stately, most polite on every occasion to my Lady, and holds her personal attractions in the highest estimation. His gallantry to my Lady, which has never changed since he courted her, is the one little touch of romantic fancy in him.

Indeed, he married her for love. A whisper still goes about that she had not even family; howbeit, Sir Leicester had so much family that perhaps he had enough and could dispense with any more. But she had beauty, pride, ambition, insolent resolve, and sense enough to portion out a legion of fine ladies. Wealth and station, added to these, soon floated her upward, and for years now my Lady Dedlock has been at the centre of the fashionable intelligence and at the top of the fashionable tree.

Far drakk som et normalt menneske. Han tok en dram straks han hadde stått opp, så en til morgenkaffen, en slurk før middag for å skjerpe matlysten, en ettermiddagsdram, en til aftens og en innsovningsdram når han la seg.

Mr. Murdstone took no heed of me when I went into the parlour where he was, but sat by the fireside, weeping silently, and pondering in his elbow-chair. Miss Murdstone, who was busy at her writing-desk, which was covered with letters and papers, gave me her cold finger-nails, and asked me, in an iron whisper, if I had been measured for my mourning.

I said: 'Yes.'

'And your shirts,' said Miss Murdstone; 'have you brought 'em home?'

'Yes, ma'am. I have brought home all my clothes.'

This was all the consolation that her firmness administered to me. I do not doubt that she had a choice pleasure in exhibiting what she called her self-command, and her firmness, and her strength of mind, and her common sense, and the whole diabolical catalogue of her unamiable qualities, on such an occasion. She was particularly proud of her turn for business; and she showed it now in reducing everything to pen and ink, and being moved by nothing. All the rest of that day, and from morning to night afterwards, she sat at that desk, scratching composedly with a hard pen, speaking in the same imperturbable whisper to everybody; never relaxing a muscle of her face, or softening a tone of her voice, or appearing with an atom of her dress astray.

FOLDAL
Men det infameste da, John Gabriel?

BORKMAN med eftertryk
Det infameste er vens misbrug af vens tillid.

Han var nå i sitt fjortende år. Han var lei av å være liten.