By Joseph Conrad
The memoirs of the recognized Polish-British novelist Joseph Conrad.
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si un homme voyage à cheval sur une grande distance, dans un attempt lucide et conscient d’annuler le temps et de revenir à cette époque où l’humanité ne pouvait faire autrement ;
si, tout à coup, par un effet de los angeles lumière, du temps ou de los angeles distance, il en arrive à un convinced état de sérénité, tout en étant tout à fait conscient que cet état dépend de l. a. vitesse ;
maintenant, si nous compliquons les choses et accordons à cet homme le moyen de s’élever au-dessus de l. a. petitesse et du commun de sa situation pour voir le monde en floor ou dans son étendue ;
si, en poussant le raisonnement jusqu’à l’absurde, nous supposons que cet homme ait aussi le pouvoir de se téléporter jusqu’aux étoiles ou simplement dans le temps,
dans ces stipulations optimales et dégagées de toutes contraintes, est-il attainable de prévoir si le bleu du ciel en sera modifié, ou le vert des arbres dans ces forêts mystérieuses où il anticipait malgré lui tous ces déplacements ; et
en présumant que son voyage se passe bien, se souviendra-t-il des sensations partagées avec les animaux, des fleurs et du chant des oiseaux ou, sur sa peau, des mystères du vent qui efface toute selected ou de l’eau qui donne sa raison d’être à los angeles soif ?
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Additional info for A Personal Record
By and by, from one of the vigorous servant-girls in national costume, we discovered that the place was really a boarding house for some English engineers engaged at the works of the St. Gothard Tunnel; and I could listen my fill to the sounds of the English language, as far as it is used at a breakfast-table by men who do not believe in wasting many words on the mere amenities of life. This was my first contact with British mankind apart from the tourist kind seen in the hotels of Zurich and Lucerne - the kind which has no real existence in a workaday world.
But enough of generalizing. Returning to particulars, Mr. Nicholas B. " This is not surprising. What surprises me is that the story was ever heard of; for granduncle Nicholas differed in this from the generality of military men of Napoleon's time (and perhaps of all time) that he did not like to talk of his campaigns, which began at Friedland and ended some where in the neighbourhood of Bar-le-Duc. His admiration of the great Emperor was unreserved in everything but expression. Like the religion of earnest men, it was too profound a sentiment to be displayed before a world of little faith.
At last we sailed, homeward bound, and still not one line was added to the careless scrawl of the many pages which poor Jacques had had the patience to read with the very shadows of Eternity gathering already in the hollows of his kind, steadfast eyes. The purpose instilled into me by his simple and final "Distinctly" remained dormant, yet alive to await its opportunity. I dare say I am compelled - unconsciously 31 compelled - now to write volume after volume, as in past years I was compelled to go to sea voyage after voyage.
A Personal Record by Joseph Conrad