The first twenty pages were adorned with a number of little plants
Мария Астаховаcompartió una citael año pasado
in still vague and idle fashion, the science that was to obsess his mature years — problems of space and time, space versus time, time-twisted space, space as time, time as space — and space breaking away from time, in the final tragic triumph of human cogitation: I am because I die
Мария Астаховаcompartió una citael año pasado
What (Ada asks) are eyes anyway? Two holes in the mask of life.
Мария Астаховаcompartió una citael año pasado
Endlessly, steadily, delicately, Van would brush his lips against hers, teasing their burning bloom, back and forth, right, left, life, death
Мария Астаховаcompartió una citael año pasado
‘Are we Mesopotamians?’ asked Lucette.
‘We are Hippopotamians,’ said Van. ‘Come,’ he added, ‘we have not yet ploughed today.’
Мария Астаховаcompartió una citael año pasado
‘Nicest!’
‘Incest,’ said Ada instantly.
‘I give up,’ said Grace. ‘We need a dictionary to check your little inventions.’
Мария Астаховаcompartió una citael año pasado
Colonel Erminin, a widower, whose liver, he said in a note, was behaving like a pecheneg;
Мария Астаховаcompartió una citael año pasado
After her death in 1883, Van computed that in the course of thirteen years,