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#10986 James Bowen

Men disse spredte Antydninger tillader jeg mig at frembære min hjerteligste Tak for den Ære og Glæde, som Trondhjems Arbeiderforenign iaften har beredt mig. Og idet jeg frembærer min tak, udbringer jeg et Leve for Arbeiderstanden og for dens Fremtid! .

James Bowen Sitater om tro
#15154 James Bowen

All of these admonitions and prohibitions, enhanced by poor medical advice, keep your attention riveted on your body, which is your brains intention. .

James Bowen Sitater om levende
#15155 James Bowen

Rats have a sense of humor. Rats, in fact, think that life is very funny. And they are right, reader. They are right. .

James Bowen Sitater om humor
#15156 James Bowen

Because you, mouse, can tell Gregory a story. Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning. Tell Gregory a story. Make some light. .

James Bowen Sitater om ego
#15165 James Bowen

Men tid er som sjarm. Du har aldri så mye som du tror. .

James Bowen Sitater om tro
#15176 James Bowen

Hvis du vil vite hvordan et samfunn er, skal du gå til dets fengsler. (Fjodor Dostojevskij) .

James Bowen Sitater om ord
#15178 James Bowen

Skaff oss et par flasker vin. Vi skal reise hjem i dag. Det blir jeg nødt til å sjekke frøken. Så gjør det da gutten min. Og samtidig kan du sjekke om hjernen din har rent utørene. .

James Bowen Sitater om tid
#15220 James Bowen

The schools -for they were twofold, as the sexes - were down in that district of the flat country tending to the Thames, where Kent and Surrey meet, and where the railways still bestride the market- gardens that will soon die under them. The schools were newly built, and there were so many like them all over the country, that one might have thought the whole were but one restless edifice with the locomotive gift of Aladdins palace. They were in a neighbourhood which looked like a toy neighbourhood taken in blocks out of a box by a child of particularly incoherent mind, and set up anyhow; here, one side of a new street; there, a large solitary public-house facing nowhere; here, another unfinished street already in ruins; there, a church; here, an immense new warehouse; there, a dilapidated old country villa; then, a medley of black ditch, sparkling cucumber-frame, rank field, richly cultivated kitchen-garden, brick viaduct, arch-spanned canal, and disorder of frowziness and fog. As if the child had given the table a kick, and gone to sleep. .

James Bowen Sitater om motet
#15221 James Bowen

Bradley Headstone, in his decent black coat and waistcoat, and decent white shirt, and decent formal black tie, and decent pantaloons of pepper and salt, with his decent silver watch in his pocket and its decent hair-guard round his neck, looked a thoroughly decent young man of six-and-twenty. He was never seen in any other dress, and yet there was a certain stiffness in his manner of wearing this, as if there were a want of adaptation between him and it, recalling some mechanics in their holiday clothes. He had acquired mechanically a great store of teachers knowledge. He could do mental arithmetic mechanically, sing at sight mechanically, blow various wind instruments mechanically, even play the great church organ mechanically. From his early childhood up, his mind had been a place of mechanical stowage. The arrangement of his wholesale warehouse, so that it might be always ready to meet the demands of retail dealers history here, geography there, astronomy to the right, political economy to the left—natural history, the physical sciences, figures, music, the lower mathematics, and what not, all in their several places—this care had imparted to his countenance a look of care; while the habit of questioning and being questioned had given him a suspicious manner, or a manner that would be better described as one of lying in wait. There was a kind of settled trouble in the face. It was the face belonging to a naturally slow or inattentive intellect that had toiled hard to get what it had won, and that had to hold it now that it was gotten. He always seemed to be uneasy lest anything should be missing from his mental warehouse, and taking stock to assure himself. .

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