The Soul of Russia

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Winifred Stephens Whale
Macmillan and Company, limited, 1916 - Guerra Mundial I, 1914-1918 - 307 pages
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Page 156 - And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.
Page 38 - EPHIKHODOF. [Offended] Whether I work, or whether I walk, or whether I eat, or whether I play billiards is a question to be decided only by my elders and people who understand. BARBARA. [Furious] How dare you talk to me like that ! How dare you! I don't understand things, don't I? You clear out of here this minute! Do you hear me? This minute ! EPHIKHODOF.
Page 36 - Brrr! (Going) These clever people are all so stupid ; I have no one to talk to. I am always alone, always alone ; I have no friends or relations, and who I am, or why I exist, is a mystery. [Exit slowly EPHIKHODOF. Strictly speaking, without touching upon other matters, I must protest inter alia that destiny treats me with the utmost rigour, as a tempest might treat a small ship.
Page 37 - Our climate is not adapted to contribute; and I should like to add, with your permission, that only two days ago I bought myself a new pair of boots, and I venture to assure you they do squeak beyond all bearing. What am I to grease them with? LOPAKHIN. Get out; I'm tired of you. EPHIKHODOF. Every day some misfortune happens to me; but do I grumble? No; I am used to it; I can afford to smile.
Page 38 - I'm merely talking to you. All you can do is to walk about from one place to another, without ever doing a stroke of work; and why on earth we keep a clerk at all heaven only knows.
Page 294 - Do you remember the cry of Bulgaria when she was torn by the most insensate tyranny that Europe has ever seen? Who listened to that cry? The only answer of the higher civilization was that the liberty of the Bulgarian peasants was not worth the life of a single Pomeranian soldier. But the rude barbarians of the North sent their sons by the thousand to die for Bulgarian freedom.
Page 133 - Great Marlborough Street, London, W. Two light, creaking waggons keep with them, The escort rides close at their backs. Now, brothers, we'll strike up a chorus, And lose half our troubles in song ! Forget the hard fate that's before us, And sing as we're marching along. Their song sets the silence aquiver, Their voices ring clear o'er the plain, They sing of the broad Volga river, Or freedom that ne'er comes again j They sing of a freedom as boundless As the steppes, ripple-marked by each gust.
Page 83 - ... you humbly took you greatly gave, For solace of the soul in agony ; When through the bars the brutal passions pry, And mock the bonds of the celestial slave. You wandered in the uttermost abyss ; And there, amidst the ashes and the dust, You spoke no word of anger nor of pride ; You found the prints of steps divine to kiss ; You looked right upwards to the stars, you cried : " Hosanna to the Lord, for He is just.
Page 295 - ... as the result of economic exhaustion and imminent bankruptcy. Possible failure in other directions will only strengthen Germany's hold upon the Monarchy, which, according to the Pan-German plan, is regarded as a fertile field for German colonization. In other words, we are faced by the alternatives of breaking up Austria-Hungary — in which case Germany obtains an addition of eight or nine million inhabitants, but is restricted to her natural limits, and is surrounded by new and virile national...
Page 139 - He banged it in an increasing rhythm, himself swirling in the full firelight of the tent, his sacred robes twirling, his lips flecked with foam. After a time, his soul departed on the sound of the drum to the mountain-top in the western heavens where there is no day but continual night, where there is always mist and the moon is but a thin crescent.

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