Беззубик и его в(Ик)кинг
До чего ужасная вещь этот Тамблер! Половина третьего ночи. Я, вместо принятие порции крепкого сна, ищу текст Хемингуэя, где он описывает красоту Фицджеральда. А началось все с этого:

Доводилось мне читать "Праздник, который всегда с тобой" Хемингуэя, где он любопытственно(с) писал о Скотте. Но вот... э-э-э... про сравнение размеров ничего не помню. Видимо, мой мозг решил стереть информацию, как слишком травмирующую. :lol:

Нашла текст на английском и отыскала нужный отрывок:

“Zelda said that the way I was built I could never make any woman happy and that was what upset her originally. She said it was a matter of measurements. I have never felt the same since she said that and I have to know truly.”

“Come out to the office,” I said.

“Where is the office?”

“Le water,” I said.

We came back into the room and sat down at the table.

“You’re perfectly fine,” I said. “You are O. K. There’s nothing wrong with you. You look at yourself from above and you look foreshortened. Go over to the Louvre and look at the people in the statues and then go home and look at yourself in the mirror in profile.”

“Those statues may not be accurate.”

“They are pretty good. Most people would settle for them.” “But why would she say it?”

“To put you out of business. That’s the oldest way in the world of putting people out of business. Scott, you asked me to tell you the truth and I can tell you a lot more but this is the absolute truth and all you need. You could have gone to see a doctor.”

“I didn’t want to. I wanted you to tell me truly.”

“Now do you believe me?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Come on over to the Louvre,” I said. “It’s just down the street and across the river.”

We went over to the Louvre and he looked at the statues but still he was doubtful about himself.

“It is not basically a question of the size in repose,” I said. “It is the size that it becomes. It is also a question of angle.” I explained to him about using a pillow and a few other things that might be useful for him to know.

@темы: Я, книги