Bokelskere.no

Og uden et ord vendte Jastrau ryggen til og gik ud ad den natlige Vesterbrogade. Buelampernes skær, den brede, skinnende kørebane, de mørke skikkelser ved gadehjørnene, de hvide, blinkende ben, kvinder, og oppe over tagene den blåsorte nattehimmel og nogle stjerner; han følte gaden som en udvidelse af sjælen, som en bekræftelse på, at der var sket noget afgørende, som en mærkelig, ufattelig ro.

Her er ikke jøde eller greker, her er ikke slave eller fri, her er ikke mann og kvinne.

'That's Davy,' returned Mr Murdstone.
'Davy who?' said the gentleman. 'Jones?'
'Copperfield,' said Mr Murdstone.
'What! Bewitching Mrs Copperfield's encumbrance?' cried the gentleman. The pretty little widow?'

One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr Murdstone - I knew him by that name noe - came by, on horseback.

‘Now let me hear more about the Crorkindills,’ said Peggotty, who was not quite right in the name yet, […].

I had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I must have read very perspicuosly, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for I remember she had a cloudy impression, after I had done, that they were a sort of vegetable.

I look at the sunlight coming in at the open [church] door through the porch, and there I see a stray sheep – I don’t mean a sinner, but mutton – half making up his mind to come into the church.

The first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as I look far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I wondered the birds didn’t peck her in preference to apples.

‘And she. How is she?’ said my aunt, sharply.
Mr Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt like an amiable bird.
‘The baby,’ said my aunt. ‘How is she?’
‘Ma’am,’ returned Mr Chillip, ‘I apprehended you had known. It’s a boy.’
My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in the manner of a sling, and aimed a blow at Mr Chillip’s head with it, put it on bent, walked out, and never came back.

Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible witness, […].

[The doctor] walked as softly as the ghost in Hamlet, and more slowly.

‘I kept my housekeeping-book regularly, and balanced it with Mr Copperfield every night,’ cried my mother in another burst of distress, and breaking down again. […] And I am sure we never had a word of difference respecting it, except when Mr Copperfield objected to my threes and fives being too much like each other, or to my putty curly tails to my seven and nines,’ resumed my mother in another burst, and breaking down again.

‘I tell you I have a presentiment that it must be a girl,’ returned Miss Betsey. ‘Don’t contradict. From the moment of this girl’s birth, child, I intend to be her friend. I intend to be her grandmother, and I be you’ll call her Betsey Trotwood Copperfield. There must be no mistakes in life with this Betsey Trotwood. There must be no trifling with her affections, my dear. She must be well brought up, and well guarded from reposing any foolish confidences where they are not deserved. I must take my care.’

SOLNESS alvorlig
Har De aldrig mærket det, Hilde, at det umulige - det ligesom lokker og roper på en?

HILDE tænker sig om
Det umulige? (livfuld) Jo da! Har De det også på det sæt?

SOLNESS
Ja, jeg har det.

HILDE
Så er der vel - så'n lidt trold i Dem også da?

SOLNESS
Hvorfor trold?

HILDE
Nå, hvad vil da De kalde sligt noget?

SOLNESS rejser sig
Nej nej kan så være, det. (hæftig) Men jeg må ikke bli' til et trold, - slig som det støt og stadig går mig i alting! I alting!

SOLNESS med dæmpet eftertryk
Ene og alene ved den branden blev jeg sat i stand til at bygge hjem for mennesker. Hyggelige, lune, lyse hjem, hvor far og mor og hele barneflokken kunde leve i tryg og glad fornemmelse af, at det er en svært lykkelig ting, det, at være til i verden. Og mest det, at høre hverandre til - så'n i stort og småt.

I kveldinga kom det vaktlar og dekte leiren, og om morgonen låg det eit lag med dogg rundt leiren. Då dogga var borte, låg det att eit fint, kornete lag over ørkenen; det var som eit fint rim på jorda. Då israelittane såg det, sa dei til kvarandre: 'Kva er det?' For dei visste ikkje kva det var. Moses sa til dei: 'Det er det brødet HERREN har gjeve dykk å eta.

(2 Mos 16,13-15) - det er her vi har uttrykket "som manna frå himmelen" frå! Spørsmålet "Kva er det?" heiter på hebraisk "Man hu'", så derfor kalla israelittane maten for "manna".

All den politi-, militær- og overvåkingsopprustning som skjer i dag for å forhindre nye terroranslag er en farlig blindvei, og åpner nettopp veien for, og sannsynliggjør, et kommende autoritært styresett. Anders Behring Breiviks personlige rolle i historien blir nettopp dette[:] Han blir et viktig incitament for den kommende autoritære staten basert på kontroll, politi, overvåking, angiveri.