Little Pierre.rom Was onereally ist. Kennen dich nicht; das ist die beginningof Weisheit. Wenn es stimmt, dass Montaigne seine Es komponiert - sagt, um seine eigene Persönlichkeit zu studieren, seine Re: sucht ihn verursacht haben mehr Angst als die Steine, die mieten, seine Nieren. Ich denke, auf thecontrary, dass er sein Buch histhoughts aus, anstatt abzulenken, der Betrachtung seines eigenen Individualität zu konzentrieren schrieb. Und lassen Sie es nicht gesagt werden, dass diese Predigt auf Selbst - Vergesslichkeit ist einzeln in einem bookwhere die Schriftsteller selbst ist sein einziges Thema. Ich bin adifferent Person aus der Chil

• Bildanbieter: The Reading Room / Alamy Stock Foto
• Bild-ID: 2ANDD24
• Dateigröße: 7,2 MB (276,3 KB Komprimierter Download)
• Freigaben (Releases): Model - nein | Eigentum - nein
• Format: 1512 x 1653 px | 25,6 x 28 cm | 10,1 x 11 inches | 150dpi

Weitere Informationen

Dieses Bild ist ein gemeinfreies Bild. Dies bedeutet, dass entweder das Urheberrecht dafür abgelaufen ist oder der Inhaber des Bildes auf sein Urheberrecht verzichtet hat. Alamy berechnet Ihnen eine Gebühr für den Zugriff auf die hochauflösende Kopie des Bildes.

Dieses Bild kann kleinere Mängel aufweisen, da es sich um ein historisches Bild oder ein Reportagebild handel

Little Pierre . rom what onereally is. Know not thyself; that is the beginningof wisdom. If it be true that Montaigne composed his Es-says in order to study his own personality, his re-searches must have caused him more anguish thanthe stones which rent his kidneys. I think, on thecontrary, that he wrote his book to distract histhoughts from, rather than to concentrate them on, the contemplation of his own individuality. And let it not be said that this sermon on self-forgetfulness is singularly out of place in a bookwhere the writers self is his sole theme. I am adifferent person from the child I am writing about.We have nothing in common now, not a grain ofsubstance, not a grain of thought. Now that hehas become a total stranger, I am enabled to find 280 LITTLE PIERRE in his company some relief from my own. I, whoneither hate nor love myself, love him. It is pleas-ant to live over again in thought the days he lived.The very air of these present times is painful tobreathe. CHAPTER XXXIV THE COLLEGIAN. T was the first day of term. I hadspent a certain length of time atSt. Josephs, where I used to con-strue the Epitome to an accompani-ment of twittering sparrows, andI was now to attend the collegeas a day boy. I was, then, a collegian. I felt the honour, butwith some anxiety, for I feared it would be a weightyone. I hadnt the slightest wish to cut a brilliantfigure on those ink-stained forms, and when I wasten I had no ambitions. And, furthermore, I hadno hopes. At the preparatory school I had beennoted for a perpetual look of wonderment, and, rightly or wrongly, that is not regarded as a markof very great intelligence. I was indeed looked uponas just a little simple. That was an injustice. Iwas as intelligent as the majority of my comrades, but I was intelligent in a different manner. Theirintelligence served them in the ordinary circum-stances of life; mine only came to my aid in the rarerand more unlooked-for conjunctures. It manifested itself unexpectedly in wanderi

Stockbilder mithilfe von Tags suchen

• bookcentury1900
• bookdecade1920
• bookpublisherlondo
• bookyear1920