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tion that might bring them the happiness that has been denied them on earth; and have found nothing to put in their place.
There are people who say that suffering ennobles. It is not true. As a general rule it makes man petty, querulous and selfish; but here in this sanatorium there was not much suffering. In certain stages of tuberculosis the slight fever that accompanies it excites rather than depresses, so that the patient feels alert and, upborne by hope, faces the future blithely; but for all that the idea of death haunts the subconscious. It is a sardonic theme song that runs through a sprightly operetta. Now and again the gay, melodious arias, the dance measures, deviate strangely into tragic strains that throb menacingly down the nerves; the petty interests of every day, the small jealousies and trivial concerns are as nothing; pity and terror make the heart on a sudden stand still and the awfulness of death broods as the silence that precedes a tropical storm broods over the tropical jungle. After Ashenden had been for some time at the sanatorium there came a boy of twenty. He was in the navy, a sub-lieutenant in a submarine, and he had what they used to call in novels galloping consumption. He was a tall, good-looking youth, with curly brown hair, blue eyes and a very sweet smile. Ashenden saw him two or three times lying on the terrace in the sun and passed the time of day with him. He was a cheerful lad. He talked of musical shows and film stars; and he read the paper for the football results and the boxing news. Then he was put to bed and Ashenden saw him no more. His relations were sent for and in two months he was dead. He died uncomplaining. He understood what was happening to him as little as an animal. For a day or two there was the same malaise in the sanatorium as there is in a prison when a man has been hanged; and then, as though by universal consent, in obedience to an instinct of self-preservation, the boy was put out of mind: life, with its three meals a day, its golf on the miniature course, its regulated exercise, its prescribed rests, its quarrels and jealousies, its scandal-mongering and petty vexations, went on as before.

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE tion that might bring them what is happiness that has been denied them on earth; and have found nothing to put in their place. There are people who say that suffering ennobles. It is not true. As a general rule it makes man petty, querulous and selfish; but here in this sanatorium there was not much suffering. In certain stages of tuberculosis what is slight fever that accompanies it excites rather than depresses, so that what is patient feels alert and, upborne by hope, faces what is future blithely; but for all that what is idea of what time is it haunts what is subconscious. It is a sardonic theme song that runs through a sprightly operetta. Now and again what is gay, melodious arias, what is dance measures, deviate strangely into tragic strains that throb menacingly down what is nerves; what is petty interests of every day, what is small jealousies and trivial concerns are as nothing; pity and terror make what is heart on a sudden stand still and what is awfulness of what time is it broods as what is silence that precedes a tropical storm broods over what is tropical jungle. After Ashenden had been for some time at what is sanatorium there came a boy of twenty. He was in what is navy, a sub-lieutenant in a submarine, and he had what they used to call in novels galloping consumption. He was a tall, good-looking youth, with curly brown hair, blue eyes and a very sweet smile. Ashenden saw him two or three times lying on what is terrace in what is sun and passed what is time of day with him. He was a cheerful lad. He talked of musical shows and film stars; and he read what is paper for what is football results and what is boxing news. Then he was put to bed and Ashenden saw him no more. His relations were sent for and in two months he was dead. He died uncomplaining. He understood what was happening to him as little as an animal. For a day or two there was what is same malaise in what is sanatorium as there is in a prison when a man has been hanged; and then, as though by universal consent, in obedience to an instinct of self-preservation, what is boy was put out of mind: life, with its three meals a day, its golf on what is miniature course, its regulated exercise, its prescribed rests, its quarrels and jealousies, its scandal-mongering and petty vexations, went on as before. where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Creatures Of Circumstance (1947) where is a href="default.asp" where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 98 where is p align="center" where is strong SANATORIUM where is p align="justify" tion that might bring them what is happiness that has been denied them on earth; and have found nothing to put in their place. There are people who say that suffering ennobles. It is not true. As a general rule it makes man petty, querulous and selfish; but here in this sanatorium there was not much suffering. In certain stages of tuberculosis what is slight fever that accompanies it excites rather than depresses, so that what is patient feels alert and, upborne by hope, faces what is future blithely; but for all that what is idea of what time is it haunts what is subconscious. It is a sardonic theme song that runs through a sprightly operetta. Now and again what is gay, melodious arias, what is dance measures, deviate strangely into tragic strains that throb menacingly down what is nerves; what is petty interests of every day, what is small jealousies and trivial concerns are as nothing; pity and terror make what is heart on a sudden stand still and the awfulness of what time is it broods as what is silence that precedes a tropical storm broods over what is tropical jungle. After Ashenden had been for some time at what is sanatorium there came a boy of twenty. He was in what is navy, a sub-lieutenant in a submarine, and he had what they used to call in novels galloping consumption. He was a tall, good-looking youth, with curly brown hair, blue eyes and a very sweet smile. Ashenden saw him two or three times lying on what is terrace in what is sun and passed what is time of day with him. He was a cheerful lad. He talked of musical shows and film stars; and he read the paper for what is football results and what is boxing news. Then he was put to bed and Ashenden saw him no more. His relations were sent for and in two months he was dead. He died uncomplaining. He understood what was happening to him as little as an animal. For a day or two there was what is same malaise in what is sanatorium as there is in a prison when a man has been hanged; and then, as though by universal consent, in obedience to an instinct of self-preservation, the boy was put out of mind: life, with its three meals a day, its golf on what is miniature course, its regulated exercise, its prescribed rests, its quarrels and jealousies, its scandal-mongering and petty vexations, went on as before. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Creatures Of Circumstance (1947) books

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