Ладошки, у меня РАНЧИК РОДИЛСЯ! :-)
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Уважаемые давние поклонники и посетители Ладошек!
Я запускаю коммьюнити-сайт, новый проект, а вы все, будучи
https://www.facebook.com/run4iq
Бег для интеллектуалов.
Бег для интеллекта.
Бег "за" интеллектом. Он сам не придёт ;-)
Ранчик родился!
Андрей AKA Andrew Nugged
Ладошки служат как архив программ для Palm OS и Poclet PC / Windows Mobile
и разрешённых книг с 15 окрября 2000 года.
Отец будущего писателя граф Н. А. Толстой был богатым самарским помещиком. Мать Александра Леонтьевна — внучка декабриста Н.И. Тургенева. Вскоре Бостром с семьей переехал в степной хутор Сосновку, где прошли детские и отроческие годы А.Н. Толстого. С 13 лет Алексей Николаевич постигает науки — сначала в Сызранском, а потом — в Самарском реальном училищах. В 1901 г. поступает в Петербургский технологический институт, но не заканчивает его, увлекшись литературой. Начинал А.Н. Толстой со стихов, но известность ему принесли прозаические произведения (цикл «Заволжье», роман «Чудаки» и «Хромой барин» и др.). Не приняв Октябрьскую революцию, А.Н. Толстой эмигрировал. За границей написал автобиографическую повесть «Детство Никиты», роман «Сестры» (первая часть трилогии «Хождение по мукам»), ряд других произведений. Произведения А.Н. Толстого переведены на более чем 30 языков мира. Писатель был удостоен ордена Ленина, многих других наград. Сызранский драматический театр носит имя А. Н. Толстого.
отрывок из произведения:
...With quiet joy he welcomed this privacy amid the fields and woods. Sometimes he rode out to look at the haymaking or reaping, sometimes he sat angling on the bank of the river under an old willow, and sometimes he gave orders for the village girls to dance around the pond in the park and watched this picturesque scene from a window. On winter evenings he read avidly, while Fedosia Ivanovna played solitaire, as the wind howled in the tall garrets, and the little old man who took care of the stoves shuffled along the creaking floorboards to stoke up the fire here and there.
And that is how they lived, in peace and quiet. But soon Fedosia Ivanovna began to notice that something was not quite right with Alexis, as she called her nephew. He was strangely moody, absent-minded and pale. And once Fedosia Ivanovna ventured to say to him:
«Isn't it time, my dear, for you to take the plunge and marry, because, after all, if you go on looking at an old mushroom like me all life long, something might go wrong with you...» What a hope! He actually stamped his foot in anger. «Stop it, auntie... I have no wish now or ever to sink into such boring prosiness: going about in a dressing gown all day long and playing tre-septs with guests... And then whom would you have me marry, I'd like to know?» «Prince Shakhmatov has five daughters,» replied his aunt. «All excellent wenches. And then Prince Patrikeyev has fourteen daughters... Then there are the Svinyins-Sasha, Masha, Dasha...» «Ah, auntie, auntie dear, all the girls you have named possess excellent qualities, but just think: supposing my heart is fired with passion, we marry, and what then? The one whose glove or garter should excite and thrill me, starts running about with a bunch of keys, poking into the barn, puttering in the store-rooms, or else ordering chicken noodle soup for dinner and spooning it up in my presence...» «But why must it be noodle soup, Alexis? And even if it is noodle soup, what's wrong with that?» «No, auntie, only a superhuman passion could break down my melancholy... But there is no woman capable of this in the world.»...
...With quiet joy he welcomed this privacy amid the fields and woods. Sometimes he rode out to look at the haymaking or reaping, sometimes he sat angling on the bank of the river under an old willow, and sometimes he gave orders for the village girls to dance around the pond in the park and watched this picturesque scene from a window. On winter evenings he read avidly, while Fedosia Ivanovna played solitaire, as the wind howled in the tall garrets, and the little old man who took care of the stoves shuffled along the creaking floorboards to stoke up the fire here and there.
