短篇小说 | Loss of Breath

2020年1月16日

The most notorious ill-fortune must in the end yield to the untiring courage of philosophy—as the most stubborn city to the ceaseless vigilance of an enemy.

短篇小说 | A Night in Acadie

2020年1月16日

THERE was nothing to do on the plantation so Telèsphore, having a few dollars in his pocket, thought he would go down and spend Sunday in the vicinity of Marksville.

短篇小说 | Lionizing

2020年1月15日

I AM - that is to say I was - a great man; but I am neither the author of Junius nor the man in the mask; for my name, I believe, is Robert Jones, and I was born somewhere in the city of Fum-Fudge.

短篇小说 | A Little Local Colour

2020年1月15日

I mentioned to Rivington that I was in search of characteristic New York scenes and incidents -- some- thing typical, I told him, without necessarily having to spell the first syllable with an "i."

短篇小说 | An Idle Fellow

2020年1月15日

I am tired. At the end of these years I am very tired. I have been studying in books the languages of the living and those we call dead.