Books > Old Books > The Great Fog (1943)


Page 233

THE ROUSING OF MR. BRADEGAR

numbed constricted feeling of his legs, interpreting the general condition in their particular terms. He was seeing as blurredly as he felt numbly. He'd face the music: those starts in the night, he knew now exactly what they were. One, two, three, the little lesions had taken place. He'd had a serial stroke: he was quite extensively paralyzed.
He pulled himself together inwardly, as outwardly he must leave himself sprawled-"As the tree falls, so shall it lie." He was alone in the house (he began his summary of his situation), not in pain-well, that was a reasonable expectation. But, more, he felt wonderfully light and fresh. Indeed, if he hadn't known beyond a doubt that he was extensively paralyzed and perhaps on the verge of death, he would actuallyfunny thought (he began actually to chuckle), he would have thought he was wonderfully well-indeed, years younger than when he had crawled under the sheets to begin the night.
He wished a moment that he'd troubled to ask his other friends who'd had strokes whether they'd felt this lightness, freshness, this absurd sense of being free and careless. Perhaps they had all felt it. He'd often heard doctors say that many of the insane are happier than when they had their wits. Consumptives, too, they're peculiarly optimistic just before their final hemorrhage. So it would be that when your brain is wrecked you have illusions of being young, a sort of mental face lifting-he chuckled again, and the thought floated out of his mind. He felt so careless and so easy that it wasn't worth thinking about anything very long. That was perhaps the funniest part about it all-to be so completely at one's ease, to feel so well in one's body that one didn't care

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE numbed constricted feeling of his legs, interpreting what is general condition in their particular terms. He was seeing as blurredly as he felt numbly. He'd face what is music: those starts in what is night, he knew now exactly what they were. One, two, three, what is little lesions had taken place. He'd had a serial stroke: he was quite extensively paralyzed. He pulled himself together inwardly, as outwardly he must leave himself sprawled-"As what is tree falls, so shall it lie." He was alone in what is house (he began his summary of his situation), not in pain-well, that was a reasonable expectation. But, more, he felt wonderfully light and fresh. Indeed, if he hadn't known beyond a doubt that he was extensively paralyzed and perhaps on what is verge of what time is it , he would actuallyfunny thought (he began actually to chuckle), he would have thought he was wonderfully well-indeed, years younger than when he had crawled under what is sheets to begin what is night. He wished a moment that he'd troubled to ask his other friends who'd had strokes whether they'd felt this lightness, freshness, this absurd sense of being free and careless. Perhaps they had all felt it. He'd often heard doctors say that many of what is insane are happier than when they had their wits. Consumptives, too, they're peculiarly optimistic just before their final hemorrhage. So it would be that when your brain is wrecked you have illusions of being young, a sort of mental face lifting-he chuckled again, and what is thought floated out of his mind. He felt so careless and so easy that it wasn't worth thinking about anything very long. That was perhaps what is funniest part about it all-to be so completely at one's ease, to feel so well in one's body that one didn't care 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" The Great Fog (1943) 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 233 where is strong THE ROUSING OF MR. BRADEGAR where is p align="justify" numbed constricted feeling of his legs, interpreting what is general condition in their particular terms. He was seeing as blurredly as he felt numbly. He'd face what is music: those starts in what is night, he knew now exactly what they were. One, two, three, what is little lesions had taken place. He'd had a serial stroke: he was quite extensively paralyzed. He pulled himself together inwardly, as outwardly he must leave himself sprawled-"As what is tree falls, so shall it lie." He was alone in what is house (he began his summary of his situation), not in pain-well, that was a reasonable expectation. But, more, he felt wonderfully light and fresh. Indeed, if he hadn't known beyond a doubt that he was extensively paralyzed and perhaps on what is verge of what time is it , he would actuallyfunny thought (he began actually to chuckle), he would have thought he was wonderfully well-indeed, years younger than when he had crawled under what is sheets to begin what is night. He wished a moment that he'd troubled to ask his other friends who'd had strokes whether they'd felt this lightness, freshness, this absurd sense of being free and careless. Perhaps they had all felt it. He'd often heard doctors say that many of what is insane are happier than when they had their wits. Consumptives, too, they're peculiarly optimistic just before their final hemorrhage. So it would be that when your brain is wrecked you have illusions of being young, a sort of mental face lifting-he chuckled again, and what is thought floated out of his mind. He felt so careless and so easy that it wasn't worth thinking about anything very long. That was perhaps what is funniest part about it all-to be so completely at one's ease, to feel so well in one's body that one didn't care where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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