I let it fall, my heart And as it fell, you rose to claim it It was dark and I was over Until you kissed my lips and you saved me My hands, they're strong But my knees were far too weak To stand in your arms Without falling to your feet But there's a side to you That I never knew, never knew All the things you'd say They were never true, never true And the games you play You would always win, always win But I set fire to the rain Watched it pour as I touched your face Well, it burned while I cried 'Cause I heard it screaming out your name Your name When I lay with you I could stay there Close my eyes Feel you here forever You and me together, nothing gets better 'Cause there's a side to you That I never knew, never knew All the things you'd say They were never true, never true And the games you'd play You would always win, always win But I set fire to the rain Watched it pour as I touched your face Well, it burned while I cried 'Cause I heard it screaming out your name Your name I set fire to the rain And I threw us into the flames When it fell, something died 'Cause I knew that that was The last time, the last time Sometimes I wake up by the door That heart you caught must be waiting for you Even now, when we're already over I can't help myself from looking for you I set fire to the rain Watched it pour as I touched your face Well, it burned while I cried 'Cause I heard it screaming out your name Your name I set fire to the rain And I threw us into the flames When it fell, something died 'Cause I knew that that was the last time The last time Oh, oh, no Let it burn Oh, oh Let it burn Let it burn
Activist, journalist and sociologist, Ida B. Well's essay is featured in her pamphlet, Southern Horrors: Lynch Law in All Its Phases, first published in 1892.
I am off down the road Where the fairy lanterns glowed And the little pretty flitter-mice are flying; A slender band of gray It runs creepily away And the hedges and the grasses are a-sighing. The air is full of wings, And of blundery beetle-things That warn you with their whirring and their humming. O! I hear the tiny horns Of enchanted leprechauns And the padded feet of many gnomes a-coming! O! the lights! O! the gleams! O! the little twinkly sounds! O! the rustle of their noiseless little robes! O! the echo of their feet — of their happy little feet! O! the swinging lamps in the starlit globes.
I must follow in their train Down the crooked fairy lane Where the coney-rabbits long ago have gone. And where silvery they sing In a moving moonlit ring All a twinkle with the jewels they have on. They are fading round the turn Where the glow worms palely burn And the echo of their padding feet is dying! O! it’s knocking at my heart—
Let me go! let me start! For the little magic hours are all a-flying.
O! the warmth! O! the hum! O! the colors in the dark! O! the gauzy wings of golden honey-flies! O! the music of their feet — of their dancing goblin feet! O! the magic! O! the sorrow when it dies.
Leiningen is an industrious coffee plantation owner in Brazil. He has built his farm up through hard work and ingenuity. When warned of an approaching cataclysm -- a large swarm of ants eating their way through the jungle as an unstoppable force consuming everything in their path -- Leiningen refuses to yield like his neighbors:
The Brazilian official threw up lean and lanky arms and clawed the air with wildly distended fingers. "Leiningen!" he shouted. "You're insane! They're not creatures you can fight--they're an elemental--an 'act of God!' Ten miles long, two miles wide--ants, nothing but ants! And every single one of them a fiend from hell; before you can spit three times they'll eat a full-grown buffalo to the bones. I tell you if you don't clear out at once there'll be nothing left of you but a skeleton picked as clean as your own plantation."
The plantation workers are frightened, Leiningen offers them full pay and allows them to leave. But the boss is such a force of nature himself that some workers stay behind to implement Leiningen's formidable battle plans to defeat the ants.
Using a series of canals, ruses to draw the ants off course, and petroleum fires, the people and the ants engage in a days-long battle. The canals prove effective at first, but soon, the ants learn to cross the canals. Some ants willfully jump into the canals and drown, but their floating bodies are pulled into rafted bridges and that the other ants use to cross. The battle rages on over days and the humans are trapped in a concrete ditch ringed with fire.
All seems lost, then Leiningen realizes that he could breach a dam, two miles away. While that will flood his plantation and destroy the crops, the people will live. Despite the ferocity of the ants, Leiningen determines to wrap himself in petroleum rags and run two miles through the ants to get to the dam and breach it. On his way back he stumbles. He recalls witnessing the ants once pick a downed stag clean to the "white bones" and he resolves not to die that way. Leiningen struggles to his feet and returns to safety. He is badly hurt but alive. At the end of the story he is recovering and states, "I told you I would come back, even if I am a bit streamlined."
Brief Critical Analysis
The story has some rather obvious themes and elements; like man versus nature. But it also has strong political overtones. For American, British and other western democracies in 1938 and 1939, the ants could be interpreted as representing the rising threat and encroachment of totalitarianism. The ants willingness to drown themselves to further the attack of their "comrades" was particularly mindful of the sacrificial fervor that many westeners feared while watching the rise communism and nazism. The final triumph of Leiningen demonstrates that industrious, courageous "humans" can overcome the savage horde, even if they end up a little "streamlined" in the process. I find Leiningen Versus the Ants to be an absolutely brilliant and entertaining story, especially when its political commentary is read with the benefit of history and the horrors that began to unfold soon after its publication.
The Servant is a semi-autobiographical story based on Semyonov's own struggles to find odd jobs in an attempt to crawl out of poverty. It was featured in Thomas Seltzer's collection of Best Russian Stories (1917).
Вот как простая, но полезная привычка повышает уровень жизни
Учёные установили, что 83% из тех, кто читает художку хотя бы 5 минут в день - интеллектуальней и успешней, чем те кто не читает совсем.
Такие люди приятнее в общении и успешнее в делах. Гармония от чтения и литературы переносится на них самих и на всю их жизнь.
Именно поэтому всё больше людей начинают чтение с коротких рассказов. Загляните на @biblio, чтоб обрести полезную привычку, что сильно изменит вашу жизнь.
A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson by H. P. Lovecraft
The Privilege of Reminiscence, however rambling or tiresome, is one generally allow'd to the very aged; indeed, 'tis frequently by means of such Recollections that the obscure occurrences of History, and the lesser Anecdotes of the Great, are transmitted to Posterity.