one no one and one hundred thousand pdf full book

One no one and one hundred thousand pdf full book

It one no one and one hundred thousand pdf full book me a little, when I take hold of it. I was twenty-eight years old; and up to now, I had always looked upon my nose as being, if not altogether handsome, at least a very respectable sort of nose, as might have been said of all the other parts of my person. So far as that was concerned, I had been ready to admit and maintain a point that is customarily admitted and maintained by all those who have not had the misfortune to bring a deformed body into the world, namely, that it is silly to indulge in any vanity over one's personal lineaments. And yet, the unforeseen, unexpected discovery of this particular defect angered me like an undeserved punishment.

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One no one and one hundred thousand pdf full book

Password Notices Tip Got Facebook? Pirandello, Luigi: One, None and a hundred-thousand. Vitangelo Moscarda discovers by way of a completely irrelevant question that his wife poses to him that everyone he knows, everyone he has ever met, has constructed a Vitangelo persona in their own imagination and that none of these personas corresponds to the image of Vitangelo that he himself has constructed and believes himself to be. From a much longer description on wikipedia. Translated by Samuel Putnam. Copyright laws differ throughout the world, and it may still be under copyright in some countries. Before downloading, please check your country's copyright laws. If the book is under copyright in your country, do not download or redistribute this work. To report a copyright violation you can contact us here. Last edited by hobnail; at PM. That description sounds very interesting, thanks a lot for uploading this, hobnail!

I, however, do not pretend to be telling you anything new. I stood there gazing at him, as I had gazed at my wife that morning, with a mixture, that is to say, of humiliation, of anger and of astonishment.

Share your interactive ePaper on all platforms and on your website with our embed function. In an autobiographical letter, published in , the author refers to this work as the bitterest of all, profoundly humoristic, about the decomposition of life Extended embed settings. You have already flagged this document. Thank you, for helping us keep this platform clean.

It hurts me a little, when I take hold of it. I was twenty-eight years old; and up to now, I had always looked upon my nose as being, if not altogether handsome, at least a very respectable sort of nose, as might have been said of all the other parts of my person. So far as that was concerned, I had been ready to admit and maintain a point that is customarily admitted and maintained by all those who have not had the misfortune to bring a deformed body into the world, namely, that it is silly to indulge in any vanity over one's personal lineaments. And yet, the unforeseen, unexpected discovery of this particular defect angered me like an undeserved punishment. It may be that my wife saw through this anger of mine; for she quickly added that, if I was under the firm and comforting impression of being wholly without blemishes, it was one of which I might rid myself; since, just as my nose sagged to the right—. Yes, there was something else! Something else! Ah, yes, more: my hands, the little finger; and my legs no! Following an attentive examination, I had to admit that all these defects existed. It was only then, when the feeling of astonishment that succeeded my anger had definitely changed to one of grief and humiliation—it was only then that my wife strove to console me, urging me not to take it so to heart, since with all my faults, when all was said, I was still a handsome fellow.

One no one and one hundred thousand pdf full book

We will keep fighting for all libraries - stand with us! Search the history of over billion web pages on the Internet. Capture a web page as it appears now for use as a trusted citation in the future. Uploaded by Shreya Fiitjee on April 5, Search icon An illustration of a magnifying glass. User icon An illustration of a person's head and chest. Sign up Log in. Web icon An illustration of a computer application window Wayback Machine Texts icon An illustration of an open book. Books Video icon An illustration of two cells of a film strip. Video Audio icon An illustration of an audio speaker.

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Did you see it? I beheld in front of my eyes, through no will of my own, the apathetically astonished face of that poor mortified body piteously decomposing, the nose curling up, the eyes turning over inward, the lips contracting upward, and the brows drawing together as if for weeping—they remained like that, in suspense for an instant, and then without warning came crumbling down, to the explosive accompaniment of a couple of sneezes. Is your conscience, by any means, something absolute, that may suffice to itself? And I very readily might fail to recognize myself thus. Is it possible? Seeing it was she who had built him up! I'm going to see her. Man takes even himself as material, and builds himself, my dear sirs, like a house. As soon as I see him, he will see me, and we will recognize ourselves. Delete template? When, for all five of you, here in this house which is one and five, in such and such a year, such and such a month, on such and such a day, I was born a perfect imbecile, do you fancy that it was the same imbecile for all of you?

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Wait, there's a blade or two of grass on your back—There; let's be on our way. I moreover believe that if, in reality, such a thought had entered your minds, and had taken root there as it took root in my mind, every one of you would have committed the same follies that I committed. I held myself with my eyes. But, first of all, that astonishment, that sorrow, that rage were feigned; they could not have been real, for the reason that had they been so, I should not have been able to view them; they would at once have ceased, owing to the very fact that I was viewing them. Neat and courteous, he would respond with a smile; until one was almost ashamed of having to call him by a name like that. I felt, in short, that my ideas and my emotions could not be understood, unless reduced to the size of that little head and heart, and that my tastes could not possibly fall in with her simplicity. My wife called my attention to it this morning. But a cursed voice from within kept telling me that he was there, too, the stranger, there in front of me, in the mirror. How can I speak of them? I wanted to see and know him, too, as others saw and knew him. Do you mean to imply that I do not know what is pleasing and what is displeasing to you?

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