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Jerome Klapka Jerome

  • iliasmsцитирует2 года назад
    a general disinclination to work of any kind."
  • iliasmsцитирует2 года назад
    should seek out some retired and old-world spot, far from the madding crowd, and dream away a sunny week among its drowsy lanes-some half-forgotten nook, hidden away by the fairies, out of reach of the noisy world-some quaint-perched eyrie on the cliffs of Time, from whence the surging waves of the nineteenth century would sound far-off and faint
  • iliasmsцитирует2 года назад
    Rest and a complete change," said George. "The overstrain upon our brains has produced a general depression throughout the system. Change of scene, and absence of the necessity for thought, will restore the mental equilibrium."
  • iliasmsцитирует2 года назад
    And, strange as it may appear, those clumps on the head often cured me-for the time being. I have known one clump on the head have more effect upon my liver
  • iliasmsцитирует2 года назад
    You know, it often is so-those simple, old-fashioned remedies are sometimes more efficacious than all the dispensary stuff
  • iliasmsцитирует2 года назад
    but the unanimous opinion was that it-whatever it was-had been brought on by overwork
  • iliasmsцитирует2 года назад
    He said we should have fresh air, exercise and quiet; the constant change of scene would occupy our minds (including what there was of Harris's); and the hard work would give us a good appetite, and make us sleep well
  • iliasmsцитирует2 года назад
    George goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day, except Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two)
  • iliasmsцитирует2 года назад
    the river, playing round the boat, prattles strange old tales and secrets, sings low the old child's song that it has sung so many
  • iliasmsцитирует2 года назад
    dream that the world is young again-young and sweet as she used to be ere the centuries of fret and care had furrowed her fair face, ere her children's sins and follies had made old her loving heart-sweet as she was in those bygone days when, a new-made mother, she nursed us, her children, upon her own deep breast-ere the wiles of painted civilization had lured us away from her fond arms, and the poisoned sneers of artificiality had made us ashamed of the simple life we led with her, and the simple, stately home where mankind was born so many thousands years ago
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