Моби Дик

The Chase — Third Day

           Avilewindthathasnodoubtblownerethisthroughprisoncorridorsandcells,andwardsofhospitals,andventilatedthem,andnowcomesblowinghitherasinnocentasfleeces.Outuponit!it’stainted.WereIthewind,I’dblownomoreonsuchawicked,miserableworld.I’dcrawlsomewheretoacave,andslinkthere.Andyet,‘tisanobleandheroicthing,thewind!whoeverconqueredit?Ineveryfightithasthelastandbitterestblow.Runtiltingatit,andyoubutrunthroughit.Ha!acowardwindthatstrikesstarknakedmen,butwillnotstandtoreceiveasingleblow.EvenAhabisabraverthinganoblerthingthanthat.Wouldnowthewindbuthadabody;butallthethingsthatmostexasperateandoutragemortalman,allthesethingsarebodiless,butonlybodilessasobjects,notasagents.There’samostspecial,amostcunning,oh,amostmaliciousdifference!Andyet,Isayagain,andswearitnow,thatthere’ssomethingallgloriousandgraciousinthewind.ThesewarmTradeWinds,atleast,thatintheclearheavensblowstraighton,instrongandsteadfast,vigorousmildness;andveernotfromtheirmark,howeverthebasercurrentsoftheseamayturnandtack,andmightiestMississippiesofthelandswiftandswerveabout,uncertainwheretogoatlast.AndbytheeternalPoles!thesesameTradesthatsodirectlyblowmygoodshipon;theseTrades,orsomethinglikethemsomethingsounchangeable,andfullasstrong,blowmykeeledsoulalong!Toit!Aloftthere!Whatd’yesee?"

           "Nothing,sir."

Содержание книги
Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 815 из 832