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“Shridaman,” he sobbed, “dear friend,what hast thou done, and how couldst thou
bring thyself to do this with thy hands and arms, a deed so hard to do! It was not
anything for thee!. No one urged thee to this, yet hast thou accomplished . it.
despair have gone hand in hand, in sacrificiz dance, ere thou couldst slay thyself!
Oh woe Oh woe! Severed the fine head from the fine body! Still remains the soft
fatness where it was, but reft of sense and meaning, unallied with that noble ...
“Art thou come at last,” he cried, “thou mild moon, thou partridge-eyed, thou all-
round lovely-limbed, fair-hued thou, Sita, my wife, with the glorious hips! How
many nights have I dreamed that you came so to the outcast and solitary across
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LibraryThing ReviewNutzerbericht - polutropos - LibraryThing
Few pages, leaving the reader with much to think about. What is attraction? What is beauty? What is the role of love and lust in a relationship? What is, ultimately, morality? Written with a light, humorous touch, the book is unforgettable. Vollständige Rezension lesen
LibraryThing ReviewNutzerbericht - fieldnotes - LibraryThing
This folkloric, Hindu-light treatment of desire, loyalty and identity lacks the craft, gravity and heft of other Thomas Mann novels. His few prose outbursts in description of beauty or deity seem ... Vollständige Rezension lesen
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