Поиск по заголовкам произведений. Cлово "MAN". Классическая русская литература.

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Сайт: http://nabokov-lit.ru Размер: 8кб.

Часть текста: is known as one of the century's great writers, particularly as the author of "Lolita." But he had many more dimensions, and in the end of his life he became the Eccentric Writer, one who avoided publicity at all costs (even declining election to the National Institute of Arts and Letters), preferring a quiet life engaging in creation and Lepidoptera. Born on, or about, April 23, 1899 in St. Petersburg, Russia, Nabokov's childhood was spent in storybook fashion. The oldest of five children , he grew up in a wealthy and aristocratic family, shuttling between the family's two homes (one in St. Petersburg , and the other - an estate - 50 miles south in the countryside). He enjoyed playing tennis and soccer, but spent hours at a time embroiled in his passion - chasing and collecting butterflies, a hobby he apparently learned from his father . At the time, Russia was under the rule of Tsar Nicholas II, and Nabokov's father, Vladimir Dmitrievich Nabokov , was a respected (and to authorities, controversial) liberal politician. In fact, the elder Nabokov was imprisoned for 90 days in 1908 for signing a political manifesto. Nabokov's mother, Elena Ivanova , raised her three boys and two girls with the help of several governesses and tutors who taught the Nabokov children French and English, along with Russian. At the highly regarded Tenishev School, which Nabokov began attending in 1911, he was described as an aloof, even conceited, student who arrived each day in the family's Rolls-Royce. But Nabokov's dreamy childhood would receive ...

Сайт: http://dostoevskiy-lit.ru Размер: 20кб.

Часть текста: Always Worth While Speaking to a Clever Man" AND in the same nervous frenzy, too, he spoke. Meeting Fyodor Pavlovitch in the drawing-room directly he went in, he shouted to him, waving his hands, "I am going upstairs to my room, not in to you. Good-bye!" and passed by, trying not even to look at his father. Very possibly the old man was too hateful to him at that moment; but such an unceremonious display of hostility was a surprise even to Fyodor Pavlovitch. And the old man evidently wanted to tell him something at once and had come to meet him in the drawing-room on purpose. Receiving this amiable greeting, he stood still in silence and with an ironical air watched his son going upstairs, till he passed out of sight. "What's the matter with him?" he promptly asked Smerdyakov, who had followed Ivan. "Angry about something. Who can tell?" the valet muttered evasively. "Confound him! Let him be angry then. Bring in the samovar, and get along with you. Look sharp! No news?" Then followed a series of questions such as Smerdyakov had just complained of to Ivan, all relating to his expected visitor, and these questions we will omit. Half an hour later the house was locked, and the crazy old man was wandering along through the rooms in excited expectation of hearing every minute the five knocks agreed upon. Now and then he peered out into the darkness, seeing nothing. It was very late, but Ivan was still awake and reflecting. He sat up late that night, till two o'clock. But we will not give an account of...

Сайт: http://nabokov-lit.ru Размер: 128кб.

Часть текста: letters Часть I Набоков — man of letters [4] Отличительный признак стиля Набокова — сложное сплетение темы, сюжета и лейтмотива. Тема, которая в общем смысле реализуется сюжетом романа, схвачена в миниатюре лейтмотивом, искусно резюмирующим целое. В качестве примера можно привести роман «Отчаяние». Сюжет романа таков: владелец шоколадной фабрики, почти разорившийся и полубезумный, встречает бродягу, который, по его мнению, как две капли воды на него похож, решает выдать этого человека за себя, убить его, затем с помощью жены получить страховку и начать жизнь заново. Изъян этого плана, очевидный всем, кроме повествователя от первого лица, заключается в том, что бродяга нисколько не похож на него. Антигерой Германн рассматривает свой страшный замысел и его литературное воплощение как истинное произведение искусства, хотя его план примитивен, а рассказ о нем пестрит отголосками темы двойника из русской классики. {9} В качестве сквозного символа романа Набоков выбрал вполне традиционный образ — зеркало. Более тонкое сплетение темы, сюжета и лейтмотива можно найти в романе «Камера обскура»: главный герой этого романа, не отличающийся проницательностью знаток живописи, мечтает оживить работы старых мастеров с помощью мультипликации. Его брак и вся жизнь рушатся, когда, в...

Сайт: http://hemnitser.lit-info.ru Размер: 1кб.

Часть текста: *** ("Sagt, woher kommts, daß man so viele Schwätzer findt... ") Sagt, Woher kommts, daß man so viele Schwätzer findt, Die jedem Klugen Pest und Gift und Geißel sind? Und diese können nicht, wenn sie nicht plaudern, ruhn. Weiß denn kein Mensch zum Schweigen sie zu bringen Und ohne sie hierzu durch Schwert und Rad zu zwingen? Gebt Schwätzern doch ein Amt, damit sie etwas tun! ПЕРЕВОД: Отколе пустомель взялась такая тьма, Которы умным бич, отрава и чума? Без болтовни никак им часу не прожить. Ужель молчать никто их не заставит, Кнутом и топором ума им не направит? Чин дайте болтунам, пошлите их служить.

Сайт: http://dostoevskiy-lit.ru Размер: 22кб.

Часть текста: me stay here," Alyosha entreated. "You are more needed there. There is no peace there. You will wait, and be of service. If evil spirits rise up, repeat a prayer. And remember, my son" -- the elder liked to call him that -- "this is not the place for you in the future. When it is God's will to call me, leave the monastery. Go away for good." Alyosha started. "What is it? This is not your place for the time. I bless you for great service in the world. Yours will be a long pilgrimage. And you will have to take a wife, too. You will have to bear all before you come back. There will be much to do. But I don't doubt of you, and so I send you forth. Christ is with you. Do not abandon Him and He will not abandon you. You will see great sorrow, and in that sorrow you will be happy. This is my last message to you: in sorrow seek happiness. Work, work unceasingly. Remember my words, for although I shall talk with you again, not only my days but my hours are numbered." Alyosha's face again betrayed strong emotion. The corners of his mouth quivered. "What is it again?" Father Zossima asked, smiling gently. "The worldly may follow the dead with tears, but here we rejoice over the father who is departing. We rejoice and pray for him. Leave me, I must...

Сайт: http://ahmatova.niv.ru Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: It seems as though the voice of man Will never sound in this place, But only wind from age of stone Is knocking on black gates. It seems to me that I alone Have kept good health under this sky, Because of this, that first I sought To drink the deadly wine.

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Часть текста: and talking irritably, his eyes somehow did not follow his mood, but betrayed something else, sometimes quite incongruous with what was passing. "It's hard to tell what he's thinking," those who talked to him sometimes declared. People who saw something pensive and sullen in his eyes were startled by his sudden laugh, which bore witness to mirthful and light-hearted thoughts at the very time when his eyes were so gloomy. A certain strained look in his face was easy to understand at this moment. Everyone knew, or had heard of, the extremely restless and dissipated life which he had been leading of late, as well as of the violent anger to which he had been roused in his quarrels with his father. There were several stories current in the town about it. It is true that he was irascible by nature, "of an unstable and unbalanced mind," as our justice of the peace, Katchalnikov, happily described him. He was stylishly and irreproachably dressed in a carefully buttoned frock-coat. He wore black gloves and carried a top hat. Having only lately left the army, he still had moustaches and no beard. His dark brown hair was cropped short, and combed forward on his temples. He had the long, determined stride of a military man. He stood still for a moment on the threshold, and glancing at the whole party went straight up to the elder, guessing him to be their host. He made him a low bow, and asked his blessing. Father Zossima, rising in his chair, blessed him. Dmitri kissed his hand respectfully, and with intense...

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Часть текста: *** ("Sie haben recht, Madame. Man putzt sich zu gefallen... ") Sie haben recht, Madame. Man putzt sich zu gefallen Gefallen ist ja eine Pflicht, Und doch gefällt man niemals allen, Denn oft gefällt das Beste nicht. Alleine so wie Sie mich schildern, Ich putzte mich aus Eitelkeit, So find ich unter solchen Bildern Vollkommen ihre Ähnlichkeit. Wer sich von außen ziert, sucht Narren zu gefallen, Wo keine Kluge sind, und so gefällt er allen, Drum habe ich das Glück, auch Ihnen zu gefallen. ПЕРЕВОД: О да! мы рядимся, мадам, чтобы быть милу. Ведь милу быть есть некий долг. Но всем не будешь мил насилу, Коль часто даже в лучшем толк Не знают. И не уверяйте, Что я из дурней щегольских, Иль докажу я — так и знайте! — Что сами-то вы из таких. Кто ряжен напоказ, тот ищет полюбиться Шутам, коль умных нет. Тогда он всем сгодится. Мадам, имею честь и вам я полюбиться.

Сайт: http://ahmatova.niv.ru Размер: 2кб.

Часть текста: I will lead a man to dear one - I don't want the little joy - And I'll quietly lay to sleep The glad, tired little boy. In a chilly room once more I will pray to Mother of God, It is hard to be a hermit, To be happy is also hard. Only fiery sleep will come to me, I'll enter a temple on the hill, Five-domed, white, and stone-hewn, On the paths remembered well.

Сайт: http://nabokov-lit.ru Размер: 22кб.

Часть текста: for I shall tell you now my fatal limitation … not the pact between the worlds of Fantasy and Fact which makes me shun such an attractive spot as Berchtesgaden, say; and also not that little business of my draft; but worse: a tragic misadjustment and a curse. I’m young and bursting with prodigious sap, and I’m in love like any healthy chap — and I must throttle my dynamic heart for marriage would be murder on my part, an earthquake, wrecking on the night of nights a woman’s life, some palmtrees, all the lights, the big hotel, a smaller one next door and half a dozen army trucks — or more. But even if that blast of love should spare her fragile frame — what children would she bear? What monstrous babe, knocking the surgeon down, would waddle out into the awestruck town? When two years old he’d break the strongest chairs, fall through the floor and terrorize the stairs; at four, he’d dive into a well; at five, explore a roaring furnace — and survive; at eight, he’d ruin the longest railway line by playing trains with real ones; and at nine, release all my old enemies from jail, and then I’d try to break his head — and fail. So this is why, no matter where I fly, red-cloaked, blue-hosed, across the yellow sky, I feel no thrill in chasing thugs and thieves — and gloomily broad-shouldered Kent retrieves his coat and trousers from the garbage can and tucks away the cloak of Superman; and when she sighs — somewhere in Central Park where my immense bronze statue looms — “Oh, Clark… Isn’t he wonderful!?!”, I stare...

Поиск по заголовкам произведенийCлово "MAN"

Поиск по заголовкам произведений
Cлово "MAN"