{"product_id":"106092","title":"Slowly simmering ","description":"\u003ccenter\u003e\u003cdiv style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e\u003cimg src=\"https:\/\/tmgdisk01.cafe24.com\/images\/vs\/4172\/sv\/WQtVZSBMnioVyG26WtLHtr.png?v=1764862026\" style=\"max-width:100%;max-height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\u003ccenter\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"width:95%\"\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"text-align:center;font-size:30px;font-weight:bolder;line-height:1.6em\"\u003e Slowly, Sumi \u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"border-bottom:1px;border-bottom-style:dotted;border-color:;padding-bottom:20px\"\u003e\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable align=\"center\" width=\"100%\"\u003e\u003ctbody style=\"border:0px\"\u003e\n\n\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd align=\"center\" style=\"line-height:1.2em;text-align:center;font-size:18px;color:black;font-weight:bold;padding-bottom:20px;\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\n\n\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"text-align:center\"\u003e\u003cimg src=\"https:\/\/image.yes24.com\/goods\/32422420\/XL\" style=\"max-width:100%;height:auto\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\n\n\n\u003c\/tbody\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"width:95%;{split_style6}padding-top:20px;padding-bottom:20px\"\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"text-align:left;font-size:16px;font-weight:bold;padding-bottom:20px\"\u003e Description \u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"text-align:left;word-break:break-all;font-size:14px;line-height:1.6em;\"\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv\u003e\u003ch5\u003e \u003cb\u003eBook Introduction\u003c\/b\u003e\n\u003c\/h5\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e\u003cdiv\u003e \u003cb\u003e“When we read a good essay, we feel that all our faculties are awakened and bathed in the sunlight of pleasure.\u003cbr\u003e “A good essay also captivates us from the first sentence, drawing us into a more intense form of ecstasy.” ― Virginia Woolf\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A feast of prose by British and American writers\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eThis book, a collection of beautiful English prose written from the late 19th century to the mid-20th century, not too long ago, contains works by writers who have observed things and people with a broader and deeper perspective than we do, perhaps even more intently and for a longer period of time, and whose works resonate with us even now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sleep and Waking (F. \u003cbr\u003eScott Fitzgerald) Knoxville: Summer 1915 (James Agee) Overalls (James Agee) The Death of a Moth (Virginia Woolf) The Pangs of Childhood (Thomas de Quincey) His Name Was Pitt (William Faulkner) William and Mary (Max Beerbohm) The Rhythm of Life (Alice Meynell) The March of the Migratory Birds (John Burroughs) Some Thoughts on Toads (George Orwell) Thinking Like Mountains (Aldo Leopold) If I Were the Wind (Aldo Leopold) The Death of the Pines (Henry David Thoreau) The Pig Pays Its Debt (Marjorie Keenan Rawlings) The Crooked Road (Hilaire Belloc) Marrakesh (George Orwell) Thinking of Peace During an Air Raid (Virginia Woolf) Forgiveness (Dorothy Sayers) The Living Ethics of Jim Crow (Richard Wright) Certain Questions (Richard Wright) Preface (William Faulkner) How a Bibliophile Passes Time To Conquer (Holbrook Jackson) To Read or Not to Read (Oscar Wilde) Happy Margins (Kenneth Grahame) A Penny for Nothing, Two for Everything (Robert Louis Stevenson) The Toy Theatre (G. \u003cbr\u003eK. Chesterton) The Secret Life of James Thurber (James Thurber) My Italian Lessons (Mark Twain) The Road to Mashhad (Robert Byron) Dulborough Town (Charles Dickens) Verona (Charles Dickens) The Walking Woman (Mary Hunter Austen)\u003c\/div\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e\u003cul\u003e\u003cli\u003e You can preview some of the book's contents.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cspan\u003ePreview\u003c\/span\u003e\n\n\u003c\/li\u003e\u003c\/ul\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\u003cdiv\u003e\u003ch5\u003e \u003cb\u003eindex\u003c\/b\u003e\n\u003c\/h5\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e \u003cb\u003e1 Even if life is not always poetic\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Virginia Woolf, \"The Death of a Moth\"\u003cbr\u003e F.\u003cbr\u003e Scott Fitzgerald, \"Sleep and Waking\"\u003cbr\u003e James Agee, \"Knoxville: Summer 1915\"\u003cbr\u003e James Agee, \"Overalls\"\u003cbr\u003e Thomas de Quincey, \"The Pains of Childhood\"\u003cbr\u003e William Faulkner, \"His Name Was Pete\"\u003cbr\u003e Max Beerbohm, \"William and Mary\"\u003cbr\u003e Alice Meynell, \"The Rhythm of Life\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e2 If I were the wind\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e John Burroughs, \"March of the Birds\"\u003cbr\u003e George Orwell, \"Some Thoughts on Toads\"\u003cbr\u003e Aldo Leopold, \"Thinking Like a Mountain\"  \u003cbr\u003eAldo Leopold, \"If I Were the Wind\"\u003cbr\u003e Henry David Thoreau, \"The Death of the Pines\"\u003cbr\u003e Marjorie Keenan Rawlings, \"Piggy's Debt\"\u003cbr\u003e Hillaire Belloc, \"The Winding Road\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e3 Some questions\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e George Orwell, \"Marrakesh\"\u003cbr\u003e Virginia Woolf, \"Thoughts on Peace During a Night Raid\"\u003cbr\u003e Dorothy Sayers, \"Forgiveness\"\u003cbr\u003e Richard Wright, \"The Living Ethics of Jim Crow\"\u003cbr\u003e Richard Wright, \"A Question\"\u003cbr\u003e William Faulkner, \"Preface\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e4 Small and secret\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Robert Louis Stevenson, \"A Penny Without Color, Two Pennies With Color\"\u003cbr\u003e G.\u003cbr\u003e K. Chesterton, \"Toy Theatre\"\u003cbr\u003e James Thurber, The Secret Life of James Thurber\u003cbr\u003e Holbrook Jackson, \"How Literature Lovers Conquer Time\"\u003cbr\u003e Oscar Wilde, \"To Read or Not to Read\"\u003cbr\u003e Kenneth Grahame, \"Happy Margins\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e5 On the road\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Mark Twain, \"My Italian Lessons\"  \u003cbr\u003eRobert Byron, \"The Road to Mashhad\"\u003cbr\u003e Charles Dickens, \"Dulborough Town\"\u003cbr\u003e Charles Dickens, \"Verona\"\u003cbr\u003e Mary Hunter Austen, \"Walking Woman\"\u003cbr\u003e\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\u003cdiv\u003e\u003ch5\u003e \u003cb\u003eInto the book\u003c\/b\u003e\n\u003c\/h5\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e The fight is over.\u003cbr\u003e The insignificant little creature has now accepted death.\u003cbr\u003e As I looked at the dead butterfly, I felt a sense of wonder at this small victory achieved by such a great force over such a paltry foe.\u003cbr\u003e As strange as life had been a little while ago, death was now strange.\u003cbr\u003e The moth, which had turned over again as before, now lay very gracefully and peacefully without any complaints.\u003cbr\u003e It seemed to say this.\u003cbr\u003e is it so.\u003cbr\u003e Death is stronger than me.\u003cbr\u003e --- Virginia Woolf, from \"The Death of a Moth\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It's sleep.\u003cbr\u003e Real sleep.\u003cbr\u003e Precious and lovely sleep.\u003cbr\u003e A sleep like a lullaby.\u003cbr\u003e The bed and pillows wrap me deep and warmly, plunging me into peace, into nothingness. \u003cbr\u003eIn my dreams, purified through dark times, young and lovely people now do young and lovely things.\u003cbr\u003e There are girls with big brown eyes and real blonde hair that I used to know.\u003cbr\u003e --- F.\u003cbr\u003e Scott Fitzgerald, from \"Sleep and Waking\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My family is all bigger than me and speaks softly and meaninglessly, like the voices of sleeping birds.\u003cbr\u003e One person is a painter, and his uncle lives at home.\u003cbr\u003e One is a musician, the other is an aunt who lives at home.\u003cbr\u003e One is my loving mother, the other is my loving father.\u003cbr\u003e How come they are here?\u003cbr\u003e All on this earth.\u003cbr\u003e Who can say anything about the sorrow of this world, the sorrow of lying on a quilt, surrounded by the sounds of a summer evening? May God bless our family, our uncle, our aunt, our mother, and our good father.\u003cbr\u003e Oh, and remember them kindly. \u003cbr\u003eEven when they were having a hard time, even when they were gone.\u003cbr\u003e After a while I went into the house and laid her down on the bed.\u003cbr\u003e Sleep gently smiles and pulls me closer.\u003cbr\u003e And those who accept me and silently treat me as a familiar and loved presence in their home, but who will never, never, now, never, never tell me who I am.\u003cbr\u003e --- James Agee, from \"Knoxville: Summer 1915\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e One could observe, touch, and study a single piece of clothing with one's eyes, fingers, and most sensitive lips for an almost infinite amount of time and still never fully understand it.\u003cbr\u003e And I have never seen a single set of work clothes that did not contain a beautiful world of its own.\u003cbr\u003e Finally, the top of the shirt shoulder and the curves are also changed.\u003cbr\u003e The fabric is made like snow, sewn and patched. \u003cbr\u003eThe places that are sewn and added like this are torn again, sewn and added again, and torn again, so that stitches and pieces of cloth are added on top of stitches and pieces of cloth in many layers.\u003cbr\u003e And then it's sewn and patched again, so that in the end there's barely any original fabric left on the shirt's shoulders.\u003cbr\u003e --- James Agee, from \"Overalls\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hasn't it really changed? I wondered if her forehead, that calm and noble forehead, might really be the same.\u003cbr\u003e But the frozen eyelids, the darkness that secretly spread beneath them, the marble lips, the stiff hands, palms pressed together as if repeatedly pleading for an end to the suffering.\u003cbr\u003e Could I have mistaken these things for life? If so, why didn't I run to those heavenly lips, shedding tears, and kiss them forever? I didn't.\u003cbr\u003e For a while I couldn't move. \u003cbr\u003eA feeling of awe, not fear, came over me, and as I stood there, a solemn wind began to blow.\u003cbr\u003e The most mournful wind I have ever heard.\u003cbr\u003e How heartbreaking! Words can't even begin to express the feeling.\u003cbr\u003e It was a wind that had swept across the fields of finite fate for a hundred centuries.\u003cbr\u003e Many times since then, on summer days, when the sun was at its hottest, I have felt the same wind blowing, just as empty and solemn as that day, like Memnon, but sacred.\u003cbr\u003e It is the only symbol of eternity that can be heard in this world.\u003cbr\u003e --- Thomas de Quincey, from “The Pains of Childhood”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Born into this world without a past, I had little expectations and did not hope for anything like immortality. \u003cbr\u003eFood (whatever it was, however little, he didn't care, as long as it was given with affection—in words he didn't understand or could answer, but with familiar voices and hands) and land to run to, air to breathe, sun and rain in their season, and a flock of pheasants, his inheritance from long before Pete knew the land and felt the sun, was enough.\u003cbr\u003e Pete knew the scent of pheasant from his ancestors, who were faithful and loyal hunting dogs, even before he smelled it himself.\u003cbr\u003e That's all Pete wanted.\u003cbr\u003e --- William Faulkner, from \"His Name Was Pete\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Books scattered here and there after being dragged out of William's cave, bright flowers from Mary's garden.\u003cbr\u003e The rafters, stairs and tiles are still there.\u003cbr\u003e Beyond this door, so close to me, despite the dust, cobwebs, and darkness. \u003cbr\u003eI wondered what I would do if the door hinges slowly turned open as if by magic.\u003cbr\u003e You probably shouldn't go in.\u003cbr\u003e You can't even look at it.\u003cbr\u003e I would not want to see the things that remain, even though everything that gave them meaning has disappeared, even though everything has been taken away.\u003cbr\u003e But can we condemn those objects for remaining? How can we be sure that nothing from the past will come back to haunt them? That something from the past, someday, perhaps, will not return.\u003cbr\u003e People know too little.\u003cbr\u003e How can one not be softened by the things that the departed must have loved? --- Max Beerbohm, from \"William and Mary\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Life may not always be poetic, but at least it has a rhythm.\u003cbr\u003e The experience of the mind is governed by a periodicity that repeats itself at regular intervals along the trajectory of thought. \u003cbr\u003eThe distance is not measured, the interval is not measured, the speed is not certain, and the number of times is not known.\u003cbr\u003e Still, it is clear that it is repeated.\u003cbr\u003e What your heart went through last week or last year you may not be going through now, but you will go through it again next week or next year.\u003cbr\u003e Happiness does not depend on events, but on the ebb and flow of the mind.\u003cbr\u003e Even bottles have rhyme.\u003cbr\u003e We move closer to death in ever-shorter cycles, and we move further away from recovery in ever-longer cycles.\u003cbr\u003e I couldn't bear the sadness that came from one cause yesterday, and I won't be able to bear it tomorrow, but I can bear it today even though the cause hasn't disappeared.\u003cbr\u003e Even the heavy, unresolved worries allow us to find a moment of peace of mind.\u003cbr\u003e Regrets don't stay either.\u003cbr\u003e Come back.\u003cbr\u003e --- Alice Meynell, from \"The Rhythm of Life\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eWho among us, who grew up watching the festivals and parades of passenger pigeons in spring and autumn, wouldn't say that seeing them again would be the happiest moment of our lives? It's such a rich and joyous spectacle of magnificent animal life, such a fertile scene unfolding in the sky and the wild, that it's heartwarming to witness.\u003cbr\u003e I have seen the fields and forests covered for a day or two with flocks of these blue and white birds, flapping their wings and crying out in a hoarse voice.\u003cbr\u003e Around that time, the sky would sometimes appear to turn into a flock of pigeons.\u003cbr\u003e --- John Burroughs, from \"The March of the Birds\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e By this time, the toads, having finished their long fast, have a very religious appearance, like Anglo-Catholics at the end of Lent. \u003cbr\u003eThe movements are weak but restrained, and the body is shrunken, while the eyes appear strangely large.\u003cbr\u003e So people discover something they might not have noticed otherwise: that toads have some of the most beautiful eyes of any living creature.\u003cbr\u003e The toad's eyes are like gold.\u003cbr\u003e No, to be exact, it's like a gold semi-precious stone, probably called a chrysolite, that's sometimes set into signet rings.\u003cbr\u003e --- George Orwell, from \"Some Thoughts on Toads\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eIs it dangerous to enjoy the changing seasons, especially spring? Or, more precisely, is it politically reprehensible to suggest that life is often worth living thanks to natural phenomena, such as a singing blackbird or a yellowing elm in October, which not only cost us nothing but have no class perspective that left-wing newspaper editors might call it? --- George Orwell, \"Some Thoughts on Toads\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I believe that if we retain our love for the trees, fish, butterflies, and toads we loved as children, a peaceful and fulfilling future is more likely, while if we teach ourselves to uphold only steel and concrete, we will pour our surplus energy into hating one another and worshipping our leaders. \u003cbr\u003e--- George Orwell, from \"Some Thoughts on Toads\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A faint cry from the clouds can be heard in the distance, like the barking of a dog.\u003cbr\u003e It's strange to see the whole world curious and listening.\u003cbr\u003e The sound soon gets louder.\u003cbr\u003e The geese are approaching, though their cry is not visible.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A flock of geese appears from the low clouds.\u003cbr\u003e Old and worn flags of birds tumble and soar, fluttering up and down, fluttering together or separately, advancing.\u003cbr\u003e The wind gently touches each wing of the birds as they fly.\u003cbr\u003e As the flock of geese becomes a faint speck in the distant sky, the last cry is heard, the farewell trumpet sounding to bid farewell to summer.\u003cbr\u003e The back of the log gets warm.\u003cbr\u003e The wind has gone with the flock of geese.\u003cbr\u003e I would go too - if I were the wind.\u003cbr\u003e --- Aldo Leopold, from \"November: If I Were the Wind\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The sky occupied by pine trees will be empty for the next two hundred years. \u003cbr\u003eThe pine tree has now become lumber.\u003cbr\u003e He who felled the pine tree destroyed the sky.\u003cbr\u003e When spring comes and the osprey returns to the banks of the Musketaquid River, they will circle around in vain, searching for a familiar branch to perch on, and the hawk will mourn the death of the pines that once stood tall enough to protect its young.\u003cbr\u003e A plant that had been growing steadily toward the sky for two hundred years disappeared this afternoon.\u003cbr\u003e Even as the cold weather eased in January this year, the pine tree tops were spreading their young branches, heralding the coming summer.\u003cbr\u003e Why doesn't the village bell ring its mourning bell? The mourning bell's ringing is unheard.\u003cbr\u003e There is not a single mourning procession visible on the streets or forest paths.\u003cbr\u003e The squirrel jumped to another tree.\u003cbr\u003e The falcon circles farther and farther away, settling down in a new nest, but the lumberjack is ready to chop it down as well. \u003cbr\u003e--- Henry David Thoreau, from \"The Death of the Pines\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e People have brown faces.\u003cbr\u003e And there are too many.\u003cbr\u003e Are they truly human, like you? Do they have names? Or are they just indistinguishable brown things, like bees or coral larvae? They emerge from the earth, sweat and starve for years, and then return to the nameless mounds of dirt in the graveyard, without anyone noticing their disappearance.\u003cbr\u003e Even the grave soon fades and returns to the earth.\u003cbr\u003e --- George Orwell, from \"Marrakech\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Everyone who does physical labor is invisible.\u003cbr\u003e The more important something is, the more invisible it becomes.\u003cbr\u003e At least white skin is always pretty visible.\u003cbr\u003e If you see someone working in a field in Northern Europe, you'll probably look at them twice. \u003cbr\u003eIn hot countries, south of Gibraltar or east of Suez, it is easy to pass by workers without even noticing them.\u003cbr\u003e This is something I have experienced over and over again.\u003cbr\u003e In the tropics, our eyes seem to absorb everything in the landscape except people.\u003cbr\u003e It sucks up the dry soil, the cacti, the palm trees, and the distant mountains, but the farmer who tills his small field never sees them.\u003cbr\u003e The farmer is the same color as the ground and is much less interesting to look at than the others.\u003cbr\u003e --- George Orwell, from \"Marrakech\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She was accepting her place as an older woman.\u003cbr\u003e So, it is a beast of burden.\u003cbr\u003e When a family walks along the road, it is common to see the father and his grown son riding ahead on a donkey, while an older woman follows behind on foot, carrying a load.\u003cbr\u003e But the strange thing about these people is that they are invisible. \u003cbr\u003eFor weeks, at almost the same time, a line of old women carrying firewood passed our house, and their images were imprinted on my retina, but I can't say I saw them.\u003cbr\u003e Firewood passes by.\u003cbr\u003e That's what I saw.\u003cbr\u003e One day, as I was following him, the pile of firewood started to shake strangely up and down, and my eyes just happened to fall on the person underneath the pile of firewood.\u003cbr\u003e It was only then that I first noticed the poor old body, the same color as the dirt.\u003cbr\u003e A body that was nothing but skin and bones, its back bent under the crushing weight.\u003cbr\u003e --- George Orwell, from \"Marrakech\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The suffering of Buridan's donkey is nothing compared to the hesitation of a child who, blinded by the bundle of joy, is impatient to see and touch just a little more. \u003cbr\u003eThe child, who has seen and touched as much as he can, finally chooses the play, and the clerk, whose patience has run out, sweeps the rest into a gray filing cabinet.\u003cbr\u003e The child comes out again.\u003cbr\u003e I was a little late for dinner.\u003cbr\u003e Streetlights burst into light in the bluish winter evening sky.\u003cbr\u003e How brisk the steps of a child running toward the theater, with plays like \"The Miller\" or \"The Pirates\" tucked under his arm! How resounding his bright laughter! I can still hear that laughter in my ears.\u003cbr\u003e --- Robert Louis Stevenson, from \"A Penny Without Color, a Penny With Color\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It disappeared.\u003cbr\u003e The two beautiful hawthorn trees, the hedges, the lawn, all the buttercups and daisies gave way to the ruthless, rattling railway.\u003cbr\u003e Beyond the station, a hideous black tunnel monster was still gaping hungry, even after devouring them all. \u003cbr\u003eThe carriage that had carried me away had the cheerful name of 'Timson's Blue-Eyed Girl' and belonged to the Timson Omnibus Company up the road, but the locomotive that had carried me back had the solemn name of No. 97 and belonged to the SER (Southern Railway), and now spews ashes and boiling water onto the desolate ground.\u003cbr\u003e\n\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e --- Charles Dickens, from \"Dulborough Town\"\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cbr\u003e\u003cdiv\u003e\u003ch5\u003e \u003cb\u003ePublisher's Review\u003c\/b\u003e\n\u003c\/h5\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e \u003cb\u003e1 A feast of prose by British and American writers\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e This book, a collection of beautiful English prose written from the late 19th century to the mid-20th century, not too long ago, contains works by writers who have observed things and people with a broader and deeper perspective than we do, perhaps even more intently and for a longer period of time, and whose works resonate with us even now.\u003cbr\u003e These are their works.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sleep and Waking (F. \u003cbr\u003eScott Fitzgerald) Knoxville: Summer 1915 (James Agee) Overalls (James Agee) The Death of a Moth (Virginia Woolf) The Pangs of Childhood (Thomas de Quincey) His Name Was Pitt (William Faulkner) William and Mary (Max Beerbohm) The Rhythm of Life (Alice Meynell) The March of the Migratory Birds (John Burroughs) Some Thoughts on Toads (George Orwell) Thinking Like Mountains (Aldo Leopold) If I Were the Wind (Aldo Leopold) The Death of the Pines (Henry David Thoreau) The Pig Pays Its Debt (Marjorie Keenan Rawlings) The Crooked Road (Hilaire Belloc) Marrakesh (George Orwell) Thinking of Peace During an Air Raid (Virginia Woolf) Forgiveness (Dorothy Sayers) The Living Ethics of Jim Crow (Richard Wright) Certain Questions (Richard Wright) Preface (William Faulkner) How a Bibliophile Passes Time To Conquer (Holbrook Jackson) To Read or Not to Read (Oscar Wilde) Happy Margins (Kenneth Grahame) A Penny for Nothing, Two for Everything (Robert Louis Stevenson) The Toy Theatre (G. \u003cbr\u003eK. Chesterton) The Secret Life of James Thurber (James Thurber) My Italian Lessons (Mark Twain) The Road to Mashhad (Robert Byron) Dulborough Town (Charles Dickens) Verona (Charles Dickens) The Walking Woman (Mary Hunter Austen)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e2 Records of memory, records of observation, records of reflection\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The author's personal and social memories, his precise observations of nature, objects, and people, and the unique expressions achieved through his eyes, are filled with precise, delicate, and beautiful passages.\u003cbr\u003e Every single sentence, every single word, without leaving anything out.\u003cbr\u003e Not only do they shine and stand out on their own, but they also add value and style, especially within the flow of the overall text.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For example, Virginia Woolf's The Death of a Moth, James Agee's Knoxville: Summer 1915, George Orwell's Marrakech, the writings of Aldo Leopold, and Thomas de Quincey's The Pains of Childhood. \u003cbr\u003eAmong them, De Quincey's prose can be said to have an overwhelming thrill that seems to put a microscope on human emotions, and Orwell's prose can be said to have made it possible to see invisible beings through his sincere observation of humans.\u003cbr\u003e James Agee's writing was completed in 50 minutes, with the intention of \"writing in sound,\" and, as he put it, it captivated my eardrums the entire time.\u003cbr\u003e It was even more extraordinary to read it later when I learned that it was a piece about the last summer spent with my father, who passed away when I was six.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e3. Articles on various topics come together in one place to create a unique harmony.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eWritings that deal with the changes in life, space, and ecology brought about by rapid industrialization and urbanization, such as John Burroughs's \"March of the Migratory Birds,\" Hilaire Belloc's \"The Crooked Road,\" and Aldo Leopold's \"Thinking Like a Mountain,\" overlap almost indistinguishably with the problems and realities of the here and now.\u003cbr\u003e It can now be said to be a restrained lament for things that have disappeared and are no longer there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Writings that are imbued with contemporary experiences of violence, discrimination, and fear that shaped the world today, such as George Orwell's \"Marrakesh,\" Virginia Woolf's \"Thoughts on Peace During the Blitz,\" and Richard Wright's \"The Living Ethics of Jim Crow,\" not only vividly reveal inequality, conflict, anxiety, and impatience, but also subtly reveal the author's constant reflection and introspection on these phenomena and these emotions.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eProse works that contain stories about universal conditions of human existence, such as loss, death, and suffering, such as Virginia Woolf's \"The Death of a Moth,\" Fitzgerald's \"Sleep and Waking,\" and Thomas de Quincey's \"The Pains of Childhood\" form one axis.\u003cbr\u003e Also, writings that give us a glimpse into the soil in which the works of these authors sprouted, such as those of Charles Dickens, Robert Louis Stevenson, Richard Wright, and William Faulkner, are of great help in broadening and deepening our understanding of their later works.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eAddendum\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It contains 32 works by 25 authors, more than two-thirds of which are being introduced in Korea for the first time.\u003cbr\u003e The editor cites James Agee's Knoxville: Summer 1915 and Charles Dickens's Dulborough Town as the most beautiful prose. \u003cbr\u003e\n\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003cdiv\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"width:95%;padding-top:20px;padding-bottom:20px\"\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"text-align:left;font-size:16px;font-weight:bold;padding-bottom:20px\"\u003e GOODS SPECIFICS \u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"text-align:left;font-size:14px;line-height:1.6em;\"\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"width:100%;margin-bottom:5px;line-height:1.6em;font-size:14px\"\u003e - \u003cstrong\u003eDate of publication:\u003c\/strong\u003e September 20, 2016\u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"width:100%;margin-bottom:5px;line-height:1.6em;font-size:14px\"\u003e - \u003cstrong\u003ePage count, weight, size:\u003c\/strong\u003e 304 pages | 496g | 140*220*18mm\u003c\/div\u003e\n\n \u003cdiv style=\"width:100%;margin-bottom:5px;line-height:1.6em;font-size:14px\"\u003e- \u003cstrong\u003eISBN13:\u003c\/strong\u003e 9791186372074\u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\u003cdiv style=\"width:100%;margin-bottom:5px;line-height:1.6em;font-size:14px\"\u003e - \u003cstrong\u003eISBN10:\u003c\/strong\u003e 1186372079 \u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\n\u003c\/div\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\u003ccenter\u003e\u003ctable\u003e\u003ctr\u003e\u003ctd style=\"height:10px\"\u003e\u003c\/td\u003e\u003c\/tr\u003e\u003c\/table\u003e\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\u003cspan\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\n\n\u003c\/center\u003e\n\n\n\u003c\/center\u003e","brand":"LIBRAIRIE COREENNE","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":43890129141802,"sku":"106092","price":23.0,"currency_code":"EUR","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0683\/2750\/5962\/files\/5652d0066744caea19e2c25279589228.jpg?v=1765288380","url":"https:\/\/librairie.coreenne.fr\/en\/products\/106092","provider":"LIBRAIRIE COREENNE","version":"1.0","type":"link"}