To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a
web browser that
supports HTML5 video
“If only Sir John were not Sir John I would ask you
to come and have some supper. "That's false!" cried Mrs. . She refused coffee, though she knew that
anyhow she was doomed to a sleepless night. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. “Call me Annabel. And not a worthy tome in sight. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong
—hopelessly in the wrong. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the
lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the
garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of
Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and
smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. I’ve been thinking, you know—I’m not
sure that primarily the perception of beauty isn’t just intensity of feeling free
from pain; intensity of perception without any tissue destruction.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNy4xMDUuOTcgLSAwNi0wNy0yMDI0IDE3OjIwOjQyIC0gMzIwNTk2Mjk4
This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 04-07-2024 02:19:10