Kuragin asked her opinion of the performance and told her how at a previous performance Semenova had fallen down on the stage.,  Sometimes they were silent for hours; sometimes after they were already in bed they would begin talking and go on till morning. They spoke most of what was long past. Princess Mary spoke of her childhood, of her mother, her father, and her daydreams; and Natasha, who with a passive lack of understanding had formerly turned away from that life of devotion, submission, and the poetry of Christian self-sacrifice, now feeling herself bound to Princess Mary by affection, learned to love her past too and to understand a side of life previously incomprehensible to her. She did not think of applying submission and self-abnegation to her own life, for she was accustomed to seek other joys, but she understood and loved in another those previously incomprehensible virtues. For Princess Mary, listening to Natasha's tales of childhood and early youth, there also opened out a new and hitherto uncomprehended side of life: belief in life and its enjoyment.! ,When men are frowardest and worst disposed, to incense them. Again, by gathering (as was touched before) all that you can find out, to aggravate the contempt And the two remedies are by the contraries. The former, to take good times, when first to relate to a man an angry business: for the first impression is much. And the other is, to sever, as much as may be, me construction of the injury from the point of contempt: imputing it to misunderstanding, fear, passion, or what you will.,^I need to go to the hospital wing, I think, ̄ he said. ^Bad headache. ̄ . !  I am going to explain to thee.!,BOOK FIRST.-WATERLOO...

  He burst forth:.  In spite of the many pills she swallowed and the drops and powders out of the little bottles and boxes of which Madame Schoss who was fond of such things made a large collection, and in spite of being deprived of the country life to which she was accustomed, youth prevailed. Natasha's grief began to be overlaid by the impressions of daily life, it ceased to press so painfully on her heart, it gradually faded into the past, and she began to recover physically. ,  Alpatych replied that the Governor had not told him anything definite.,  Nicholas did not reply and tried to avoid speaking of the princess any more. But after her visit the old countess spoke of her several times a day.,? Leo Tolstoy,By "Eshu Space".;

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  After the first monologue the whole company rose and surrounded Mademoiselle George, expressing their enthusiasm..FIRST EPILOGUE: 1813 - 20,LastIndexNext;"Here; this is for you."...The cup was somewhere close by, and it sounded as though Fleur was no longer in the running. He'd got this far, hadn't he? What if he actually managed to win? Fleetingly, and for the first time since he'd found himself champion, he saw again that image of himself, raising the Triwizard Cup in front of the rest of the school.´ ,  While the soldiers were shouting Kutuzov leaned forward in his saddle and bowed his head, and his eye lit up with a mild and apparently ironic gleam..  This simple man sufficed for Cosette's thought, the same as the wild garden sufficed for her eyes.;

Keynotes

  After breakfast he meditated for a quarter of an hour; then two generals seated themselves on the truss of straw, pen in hand and their paper on their knees, and the Emperor dictated to them the order of battle.,  The word decarade, which expresses the departure of heavy vehicles at a gallop, is attributed to Villon, and it is worthy of him. This word, which strikes fire with all four of its feet, sums up in a masterly onomatopoeia the whole of La Fontaine's admirable verse:-- ,  There he turned round, bowed deeply to his grandfather, raised his head erect again, and said:--,  Rostov threw his cloak over his shoulders, shouted to Lavrushka to follow with the things, and- now slipping in the mud, now splashing right through it- set off with Ilyin in the lessening rain and the darkness that was occasionally rent by distant lightning.,  It may have lasted a long time.,BOOK FIFTEEN: 1812 - 13,  The Emperor entered the hall through a broad path between two lines of nobles. Every face expressed respectful, awe-struck curiosity. Pierre stood rather far off and could not hear all that the Emperor said. From what he did hear he understood that the Emperor spoke of the danger threatening the empire and of the hopes he placed on the Moscow nobility. He was answered by a voice which informed him of the resolution just arrived at.,Italy. "I must use my freedom while I feel so much strength and youth in me," he said to himself. "Pierre was right when he said one must believe in the possibility of happiness in order to be happy, and now I do believe in it. Let the dead bury their dead, but while one has life one must live and be happy!" thought he.;

...;  Toussaint replied in amazement.--"I am a much better thing than the master, I am the father.",  Next day when Denisov had left Pokrovsk, having quite forgotten about this peasant, it was reported to him that Tikhon had attached himself to their party and asked to be allowed to remain with it. Denisov gave orders to let him do so.. !!  Four sous a day! How do you suppose a man is to live?"!

  Natasha was sixteen and it was the year 1809, the very year to which she had counted on her fingers with Boris after they had kissed four years ago. Since then she had not seen him. Before Sonya and her mother, if Boris happened to be mentioned, she spoke quite freely of that episode as of some childish, long-forgotten matter that was not worth mentioning. But in the secret depths of her soul the question whether her engagement to Boris was a jest or an important, binding promise tormented her.!CHAPTER X ...,  "That is perfectly true. And I am sorry I went to see him and took her," said the old count.,,  "We'll send the infantwy down by the swamps," Denisov continued. "They'll cweep up to the garden; you'll wide up fwom there with the Cossacks"- he pointed to a spot in the forest beyond the village- "and I with my hussars fwom here. And at the signal shot...",Et ces grands malheurs qui nous faisaient rire!;Young men, in the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than they can hold, stir more than they can quiet; fly to the end, without consideration of the means, and degrees; pursue some few principles, which they have chanced upon absurdly; care not to innovate, which draws unknown inconveniences; use extreme remedies at first; and, that which doubled all errors, will not acknowledge or retract them; like an unready horse, that will neither stop, nor turn. Men of age object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and seldom drive business home to the full period; but content themselves with a mediocrity of success. ;

Since I am innocent of this crime, sir, I find it decidedly inconvenient...  The countess lifted her head and looked attentively at her daughter.;  You see, my benefactor, no bread, no fire.,  "It bores me.",  Nicholas tried to keep silence when his mother spoke of the princess, but his silence irritated her.!  He embarrassed God.,  He who felt that he could never do anything but crawl, walk at the most, beheld wings sprouting on Cosette.,Men\'s thoughts are much according to their inclination: their discourse and speeches according to their learning, and infused opinions; but their deeds are after as they have been accustomed. And therefore, as Machiavelli well noteth (though in an evil favoured instance) there is no trusting to the force of nature, nor to the bravery of words; except it be corroborate by custom. His instance is, that for the achieving of a desperate conspiracy, a man should not rest upon the fierceness of any man\'s nature, or his resolute undertakings; but take Such an one, as hath had his hands formerly in blood. But Machiavelli knew not of a Friar Clement, nor a Ravillac, nor a Jaureguy, nor a Baltazar Gerard: yet his rule holdeth still, that nature, nor the engagement of words, are not so forcible as custom. Only superstition is now so well advanced, that men of the first blood are as firm as butchers by occupation: and votary resolution is made equipollent to custom, even in matter of blood. In other things, the predominancy of custom is everywhere visible; in so much, as a man would wonder, to hear men profess, protest, engage, give great words, and then do just as they have done before: as if they were dead images, and engines moved only by the wheels of custom. ;

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? Leo Tolstoy.say. Relax. What are you so nervous about? She's just a woman.,  "Perhaps I have. Perhaps all is over between me and Bolkonski. Why do you think so badly of me?",The bell rang. They hastily shoved the cushions back into Flitwick's cupboard and slipped out of the classroom. ,And so much for the front. Only, I understand the height of the first stairs to be .  The discussions continued a long time, and the longer they lasted the more heated became the disputes, culminating in shouts and personalities, and the less was it possible to arrive at any general conclusion from all that had been said. Prince Andrew, listening to this polyglot talk and to these surmises, plans, refutations, and shouts, felt nothing but amazement at what they were saying. A thought that had long since and often occurred to him during his military activities- the idea that there is not and cannot be any science of war, and that therefore there can be no such thing as a military genius- now appeared to him an obvious truth. "What theory and science is possible about a matter the conditions and circumstances of which are unknown and cannot be defined, especially when the strength of the acting forces cannot be ascertained? No one was or is able to foresee in what condition our or the enemy's armies will be in a day's time, and no one can gauge the force of this or that detachment. Sometimes- when there is not a coward at the front to shout, 'We are cut off!' and start running, but a brave and jolly lad who shouts, 'Hurrah!'- a detachment of five thousand is worth thirty thousand, as at Schon Grabern, while at times fifty thousand run from eight thousand, as at Austerlitz. What science can there be in a matter in which, as in all practical matters, nothing can be defined and everything depends on innumerable conditions, the significance of which is determined at a particular moment which arrives no one knows when? Armfeldt says our army is cut in half, and Paulucci says we have got the French army between two fires; Michaud says that the worthlessness of the Drissa camp lies in having the river behind it, and Pfuel says that is what constitutes its strength; Toll proposes one plan, Armfeldt another, and they are all good and all bad, and the advantages of any suggestions can be seen only at the moment of trial. And why do they all speak of a 'military genius'? Is a man a genius who can order bread to be brought up at the right time and say who is to go to the right and who to the left? It is only because military men are invested with pomp and power and crowds of sychophants flatter power, attributing to it qualities of genius it does not possess. The best generals I have known were, on the contrary, stupid or absent-minded men. Bagration was the best, Napoleon himself admitted that. And of Bonaparte himself! I remember his limited, self-satisfied face on the field of Austerlitz. Not only does a good army commander not need any special qualities, on the contrary he needs the absence of the highest and best human attributes- love, poetry, tenderness, and philosophic inquiring doubt. He should be limited, firmly convinced that what he is doing is very important (otherwise he will not have sufficient patience), and only then will he be a brave leader. God forbid that he should be humane, should love, or pity, or think of what is just and unjust. It is understandable that a theory of their 'genius' was invented for them long ago because they have power! The success of a military action depends not on them, but on the man in the ranks who shouts, 'We are lost!' or who shouts, 'Hurrah!' And only in the ranks can one serve with assurance of being useful.",  He tried again to unhook the chain of the well, and could not..  "Orders?" Denisov repeated thoughtfully. "But can you stay till tomowwow?"...

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