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Turning problems into potential

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ĦĦĦĦ"Keksekca?",;.;.ĦĦĦĦOne piece was smaller than the others; he kept this for himself.;
Supporting our industry

Supporting our industry

,ĦĦĦĦThese eighty francs were punctually paid in the name of M. Gillenormand, by collector of his rents, M. Barge, a retired tip-staff, in the Rue du Roi-de-Sicile. The children dead, the income was at an end.,ĦĦĦĦ"No, it's only the unexpectedness of it," thought Pierre. But as soon as he tried to continue the conversation he had begun with Princess Mary he again glanced at Natasha, and a still-deeper flush suffused his face and a still-stronger agitation of mingled joy and fear seized his soul. He became confused in his speech and stopped in the middle of what he was saying.,ĦĦĦĦIt was our man and Cosette.,ĦĦĦĦ"Yes.",ĦĦĦĦCourfeyrac said to him:--!
Changing lives and communities

Changing lives and communities

? Leo Tolstoy, ......ĦĦĦĦ"Nicholas, what a fine dog Trunila is! He knew me," said Natasha, referring to her favorite hound....,ĦĦĦĦThe cry "Treachery!" was followed by a cry of "Save yourselves who can!"...ĦĦĦĦIt was not without a tremor that he had taken the letter which Eponine had given him.,!
Stretching budgets further

Stretching budgets further

ĦĦĦĦThe skilful in our century have conferred on themselves the title of Statesmen; so that this word, statesmen, has ended by becoming somewhat of a slang word.,ĦĦĦĦNatasha was calmer but no happier. She not merely avoided all external forms of pleasure- balls, promenades, concerts, and theaters- but she never laughed without a sound of tears in her laughter. She could not sing. As soon as she began to laugh, or tried to sing by herself, tears choked her: tears of remorse, tears at the recollection of those pure times which could never return, tears of vexation that she should so uselessly have ruined her young life which might have been so happy. Laughter and singing in particular seemed to her like a blasphemy, in face of her sorrow. Without any need of self-restraint, no wish to coquet ever entered her head. She said and felt at that time that no man was more to her than Nastasya Ivanovna, the buffoon. Something stood sentinel within her and forbade her every joy. Besides, she had lost all the old interests of her carefree girlish life that had been so full of hope. The previous autumn, the hunting, "Uncle," and the Christmas holidays spent with Nicholas at Otradnoe were what she recalled oftenest and most painfully. What would she not have given to bring back even a single day of that time! But it was gone forever. Her presentiment at the time had not deceived her- that that state of freedom and readiness for any enjoyment would not return again. Yet it was necessary to live on.,ĦĦĦĦWho was that Corsican of six and twenty?,ĦĦĦĦThe whole insurgent group was still under the influence of the emotion of that tragic case which had been so quickly tried and so quickly terminated, when Courfeyrac again beheld on the barricade, the small young man who had inquired of him that morning for Marius.,CHAPTER V !ĦĦĦĦ"Oh, please... May I stay with you?" cried Petya., !ĦĦĦĦHis cunning began here; he smiled habitually, by way of precaution, and was almost polite to everybody, even to the beggar to whom he refused half a farthing. He had the glance of a pole-cat and the bearing of a man of letters. He greatly resembled the portraits of the Abbe Delille. His coquetry consisted in drinking with the carters.;
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