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He was more than a little drunk. Savinkov looked at him with a grave face, but
with smiling eyes. “In your heart, my brother,” he answered. The peasant said
nothing for a time as the answer sank into his fuddled brain. “Then what shall I do
She had a long face, smooth and unlined, and her great eyes were fixed upon
the image over the altar. There was an infinite pathos in her posture, that of a
suppliant, helpless and defenceless, who sought aid in her confused distress.
He walked around with the ball of the eye hanging down his cheek, a revolting
spectacle, then replaced it, rubbed it a little and appeared none the worse.
Another passed a skewer through the skin of his abdomen, and still another
through his ...
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LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - JBreedlove - LibraryThing
A compilation of notes kept over his lifetime and published just before Maugham's death. Though there were some pearls of wisdom and insightful comments on writing it was his commentary on daily life ... Read full review