Book: Three men in a boat, not counting the dog. Page 1

Walking by the sea is good, if you devote about two months, but one week it does not make sense.
You sail on Monday, cherishing the dream of holiday and entertainment. You have fun waving his hand to friends on the shore, the most impressive smoke his pipe and begins pacing the deck as if you were captain cook, sir Francis Drake and Christopher Columbus all in one. On Tuesday you start to regret that set sail. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday you start to wish you were the light of God. On Saturday you force yourself to swallow a Cup of soup, and sitting on the deck, meet the meek martyrs smile on compassionate questions of the passengers about how you feel. On Sunday you are already able to move independently and to take solid foods. And on Monday morning when you are with a suitcase in hand and umbrella under his arm standing at the gangway, waiting for the landing - a walk on the sea you have strongly like.

...if it is forbidden to speak her opinion, so why ask?

...if you need a rest and change of environment, it is best to walk on the sea.

Apparently this is the law of life: each person has what he needs. Married men have wives, and apparently did not value them; and the young bachelors are bitter about not being able to acquire them. The poor, barely able to feed themselves, sometimes up to eight children. The rich elderly who had no one to leave their money to, die childless.

River - when the sun is dancing in the waves,
it gilds the hoary beeches,
wandering along the forest paths,
driving the shadows down the slopes
the leaves diamonds throws
sends kisses to the lilies,
in the foam beating on the dams,
silver bridges and piles
in the reeds playing hide and seek,
sail shines far, -
it is a miracle of beauty.
But the river in bad weather -
when the cold rain pours
on the faded water
if the woman tears
in the dark one comes,
the woods are silent and sad,
hiding in the damp mist
like shadows,
reproachfully the Affairs of men regardless of
is Ghost water world of vain regrets.

I often ask myself, is a beautiful old soup plates beer mugs and pliers to remove the carbon deposits from the spark that we so highly value, or just the aura of antiquity gives them the beauty in our eyes.

It's a curious thing nobody ever suffers from seasickness on land.

We spent half an hour describing to each other their disease. I explained to George and William Harris how I feel when I get up in the morning and William Harris told us how he feels when he goes to bed. George, standing on the hearth rug and gave us a clear, clear and convincing idea of how it feels at night. George imagines that he's sick. In fact, he's always all right.

I like work it fascinates me. I can sit and stare at it for hours.

Women have a strange habit: to press to the heart of a knife, which caused them injury.

Montmorency was, of course, in the thick of things. All ambition Montmorency is to as often as possible to get caught under his feet and to incur the curse. If he manages to get through to the place where his presence is especially undesirable, and all ostochertet, and to piss people off and force them to throw him in the head with anything, he feels that the day is not wasted.
To ensure that someone tripped over him and then honor him in all crusts in continued good hour - that's the ultimate goal and meaning of his life; and when he manages to succeed in this, his conceit knows no bounds.

Harris always knows the place around the corner where you can get something great in the sense of drinking. I think if Harris met you in Paradise (let's say for a moment this possibility), he would have welcomed you with the words - Very glad you're here, old friend! I found around the corner a good place where I can get a first-class nectar.

I have noticed that people always make grandiose cooking, when are you going to go somewhere closer to the water, but they're not so much swimming, when you come to the place.