Bokelskere.no

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.

Between life and death there is a library, she said. And within that library, the shelves go on for ever. Every book provides a change to try another life you could have lived, To see how things would be different if had made other choices.....

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.

Når to menn kommer i slagsmål, og konen til en av dem kommer løpende for å hjelpe sin mann, og hun rekker hånden ut og griper den som slår ham, i kjønnsdelene, da skal du uten skånsel hogge hånden av henne.