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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------------53D40CE1F627A89B Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" 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 ------------53D40CE1F627A89B--
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