Date: Sat, 27 May 2006 17:00:10 +0000 From: "shavonne zygmund" <coven@cottonpromotion.org> To: freebsd-net@freebsd.org Subject: Time is just nature's way of keeping everything from happening at once Message-ID: <86582620.20060201060614@83.31.15.119>
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Hearty reception,
[cid:53D40CE1.F627A89B.53D40CE1.F627A89B_csseditor]
upadukadel[dot]com
----
possible. Today he was too much agitated. He would have covered the
picture, but he stopped, holding the cloth in his hand, and, smiling
blissfully, gazed a long while at the figure of John. At last, as it
were regretfully tearing himself away, he dropped the cloth, and,
exhausted but happy, went home. Vronsky, Anna, and Golenishtchev, on
their way home, were particularly lively and cheerful. They talked of
Mihailov and his pictures. The word _talent_, by which they meant an
inborn, almost physical, aptitude apart from brain and heart, and in
which they tried to find an expression for all the artist had gained
from life, recurred particularly often in their talk, as though it
were necessary for them to sum up what they had no conception of,
though they wanted to talk of it. They said that there was no denying
his talent, but that his talent could not develop for want of
education--the common defect of our Russian artists. But the picture
of the boys had imprinted itself on their memories, and they were
continually coming back to it. "What an exquisite thing! How he has
succeeded in it, and how simply! He doesn't even comprehend how good
it is. Yes, I
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