Alexander Nikolayevich Ostrovsky. The storm (№ 98047)

Well, what are you afraid of, pray tell! Now every weed, every flower is happy and we are hiding, afraid, precisely what misfortune! The storm will kill you! Not a storm, and grace! Yes, grace! You are all in for a storm! The Northern lights will light up ought to admire but to marvel at the wisdom: "countries with midnight sun is rising"! And you are horrified Yes, imagine: the war is or Mora. The comet is, not take eyes! Beauty! The stars really looked. all the same, and this is a new thing; well, I watched it so admired! Are you afraid to look into the sky, a shiver takes you! All you have done scared myself. Ah, the people.