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War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy


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He spoke with such self-confidence that his hearers could not be

sure whether what he said was very witty or very stupid. He was

dressed in a dark-green dress coat, knee breeches of the color of

cuisse de nymphe effrayee, as he called it, shoes, and silk stockings.

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You see, if it were not a palace, but a hen-house, I might creep into it to avoid getting wet, and yet I would not call the hen-house a palace out of gratitude to it for keeping me dry. You laugh and say that in such circumstances a hen-house is as good as a mansion. Yes, I answer, if one had to live simply to keep out of the rain.

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The vicomte told his tale very neatly. It was an anecdote, then

current, to the effect that the Duc d'Enghien had gone secretly to

Paris to visit Mademoiselle George; that at her house he came upon

Bonaparte, who also enjoyed the famous actress' favors, and that in

his presence Napoleon happened to fall into one of the fainting fits

to which he was subject, and was thus at the duc's mercy. The latter

spared him, and this magnanimity Bonaparte subsequently repaid by

death.

 

The story was very pretty and interesting, especially at the point

where the rivals suddenly recognized one another; and the ladies

looked agitated.

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But while I am alive and have desires I would rather my hand were withered off than bring one brick to such a building! Don't remind me that I have just rejected the palace of crystal for the sole reason that one cannot put out one's tongue at it. I did not say because I am so fond of putting my tongue out. Perhaps the thing I resented was, that of all your edifices

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"May I join you?" the foreigner asked civilly, and the friends involuntarily moved apart. The foreigner slipped in between them and immediately entered the conversation. "If I heard correctly, you said that Jesus never existed?" he asked, turning his green left eye to Berlioz.

"You heard correctly," Berlioz answered courteously. "That was precisely what I said!"

"Ah, how interesting!" exclaimed the foreigner.

"What the devil does he want?" Homeless thought, frowning

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Dingman had expected to find Jerstad and Bishop, or their bodies; that Unsoeld and Hornbein were still alive, and on this side of the mountain, means that they've accomplished their monumental traverse of Everest. (In the ensuing forty years, no climbers have repeated this ascent, up the West Ridge and down the Southeast, despite continuous improvements in equipment and mountain technique.)

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Willi talks frankly about the hemorrhoids that afflict him when he climbs mountains, calling them his "Achilles' anus," and he reports that he enjoyed a great advantage over Hornbein on Everest because "I had an enormous bladder...[Tom] was just filling and emptying all night [while] I could go on an easy fourteen hours. We had a fancy French urinal [for use inside the tent at night]...it turned out my bladder was larger than the urinal. You have to devise a means, way down deep in your sleeping bag, of monitoring the flow exactly, and if you understimate, as I sometimes did..."

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"Charming!" whispered the little princess, sticking the needle

into her work as if to testify that the interest and fascination of

the story prevented her from going on with it.

 

The vicomte appreciated this silent praise and smiling gratefully

prepared to continue, but just then Anna Pavlovna, who had kept a

watchful eye on the young man who so alarmed her, noticed that he

was talking too loudly and vehemently with the abbe, so she hurried to

the rescue. Pierre had managed to start a conversation with the abbe

about the balance of power, and the latter, evidently interested by

the young man's simple-minded eagerness, was explaining his pet

theory. Both were talking and listening too eagerly and too naturally,

which was why Anna Pavlovna disapproved.

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i can't begin to read all the crap in this thread, but has anyone ventured to comment yet that vanya y mir, as the savage borscht-folks call it, is totally boring? i finished that book out of sheer spite, and laughed my ass off at the death of every major character...

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"The means are... the balance of power in Europe and the rights of

the people," the abbe was saying. "It is only necessary for one

powerful nation like Russia--barbaric as she is said to be--to place

herself disinterestedly at the head of an alliance having for its

object the maintenance of the balance of power of Europe, and it would

save the world!"

 

"But how are you to get that balance?" Pierre was beginning.

 

At that moment Anna Pavlovna came up and, looking severely at

Pierre, asked the Italian how he stood Russian climate. The

Italian's face instantly changed and assumed an offensively

affected, sugary expression, evidently habitual to him when conversing

with women.

 

"I am so enchanted by the brilliancy of the wit and culture of the

society, more especially of the feminine society, in which I have

had the honor of being received, that I have not yet had time to think

of the climate," said he.

 

Not letting the abbe and Pierre escape, Anna Pavlovna, the more

conveniently to keep them under observation, brought them into the

larger circle.

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