"Шервуд Андерсен. Триумф яйца (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

window. It would be strange and beautiful if I could meet my wife, come
into her presence.

The woman whose face floated across my picture just now knows nothing
of me. I know nothing of her. She has gone off, along a street. The
voices of her mind are talking. I am here in this room, as alone as
ever any man God made.

It would be strange and beautiful if I could float my face across my
picture. If my floating face could come into her presence, if it could
come into the presence of any man or any woman--that would be a strange
and beautiful thing to have happen.

* * * * *

Napoleon went down into a battle riding on a horse.
General Grant went into a wood.
Alexander went down into a battle riding on a horse.

* * * * *

I'll tell you what--sometimes the whole life of this world floats in a
human face in my mind. The unconscious face of the world stops and
stands still before me.

Why do I not say a word out of myself to the others? Why, in all our
life together, have I never been able to break through the wall to my
wife?

Already I have written three hundred, four hundred thousand words. Are
there no words that lead into life? Some day I shall speak to myself.
Some day I shall make a testament unto myself.




BROTHERS


I am at my house in the country and it is late October. It rains. Back
of my house is a forest and in front there is a road and beyond that
open fields. The country is one of low hills, flattening suddenly into
plains. Some twenty miles away, across the flat country, lies the huge
city Chicago.

On this rainy day the leaves of the trees that line the road before my
window are falling like rain, the yellow, red and golden leaves fall
straight down heavily. The rain beats them brutally down. They are
denied a last golden flash across the sky. In October leaves should be
carried away, out over the plains, in a wind. They should go dancing