Wood, popping her head through the window. It was, in his opinion, the most astonishing letter he had ever read. ‘Hadn’t meant you to know,’ said the nun gruffly. I throw up work—everything! I just teach in one school, one good school, three days a week. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. She became more and more alive, not so much to a system of ideas as to a big diffused impulse toward change, to a great discontent with and criticism of life as it is lived, to a clamorous confusion of ideas for reconstruction—reconstruction of the methods of business, of economic development, of the rules of property, of the status of children, of the clothing and feeding and teaching of every one; she developed a quite exaggerated consciousness of a multitude of people going about the swarming spaces of London with their minds full, their talk and gestures full, their very clothing charged with the suggestion of the urgency of this pervasive project of alteration. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDEzLjU4LjExNi41MSAtIDI1LTA5LTIwMjQgMjE6MTg6NDggLSAxODczMzI3NzQ5
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 25-09-2024 18:54:42