I don't need an excerpt from War and Peace about Oak
- 2 descriptions of oak:
- 2 descriptions of oak:
1) There was an oak tree on the edge of the road. Probably ten times older than the birches that made up the forest, it was ten times thicker, and twice as tall as each birch. It was a huge oak tree, twice the girth, with branches that had apparently been broken off for a long time and with broken bark overgrown with old sores. With his huge, clumsily, asymmetrically splayed, gnarled arms and fingers, he stood like an old, angry and contemptuous freak between the smiling birch trees. Only he alone did not want to submit to the charm of spring and did not want to see either spring or the sun.
Spring, and love, and happiness! as if this oak tree was speaking. And how can you not get tired of the same stupid, senseless deception! Everything is the same, and everything is a lie! There is no spring, no sun, no happiness. Look, there are the crushed dead spruce trees sitting, always the same, and there I am, spreading out my broken, skinned fingers, wherever they grew from the back, from the sides. As I grew up, I still stand, and I don’t believe your hopes and deceptions.
Prince Andrei looked back at this oak tree several times while driving through the forest, as if he was expecting something from it. There were flowers and grass under the oak tree, but he still stood in the midst of them, frowning, motionless, ugly and stubborn.
Yes, he is right, this oak tree is right a thousand times, thought Prince Andrei, let others, young people, again succumb to this deception, but we know life, our life is over! A whole new series of hopeless, but sadly pleasant thoughts in connection with this oak tree arose in the soul of Prince Andrei. During this journey, he seemed to think about his whole life again and came to the same old, reassuring and hopeless conclusion that he didn’t need to start anything, that he should live out his life without doing evil, without worrying and without wanting anything. .2) It was already the beginning of June when Prince Andrei, returning home, again entered that birch grove, in which this old, gnarled oak struck him so strangely and memorably. The bells rang even more muffled in the forest than a month ago; everything was full, shady and dense; and young spruce trees scattered throughout the forest did not disturb the overall beauty and, imitating general character, gently green with fluffy young shoots.
It was hot all day, a thunderstorm was gathering somewhere, but only a small cloud splashed on the dust of the road and on the succulent leaves. The left side of the forest was dark, in shadow; the right one, wet, glossy, glistened in the sun, slightly swaying in the wind. Everything was in bloom; the nightingales chattered and rolled, now close, now far away.
Yes, here, in this forest, there was this oak tree with which we agreed, thought Prince Andrei. Where is he? Prince Andrei thought again, looking at the left side of the road and, without knowing it, without recognizing him, admired the oak tree he was looking for. The old oak tree, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of lush, dark greenery, was melting, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No gnarled fingers, no sores, no old grief and mistrust were visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the hundred-year-old hard bark without knots, so it was impossible to believe that it was the old man who produced them. Yes, this is the same oak tree, thought Prince Andrei, and suddenly an unreasonable spring feeling of joy and renewal came over him. All the best moments of his life suddenly came back to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with the high sky, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl excited by the beauty of the night, and this night, and the moon and all this suddenly came to his mind.
No, life is not over for thirty-one years, Prince Andrei suddenly finally decided. Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary for everyone to know it: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly into the sky, it is necessary for everyone to know me, so that my life does not go on for me alone so that they don’t live like this girl, regardless of my life, so that it affects everyone and so that they all live with me! - We passed the carriage on which he had spoken with Pierre a year ago. We drove through a dirty village, threshing floors, greenery, a descent with remaining snow near the bridge, an ascent through washed-out clay, stripes of stubble and green bushes here and there, and entered a birch forest on both sides of the road. It was almost hot in the forest; you couldn’t hear the wind. The birch tree, all covered with green sticky leaves, did not move, and from under last year’s leaves, lifting them, the first green grass crawled out and purple flowers. Small spruce trees scattered here and there throughout the birch forest with their coarse, eternal greenery were an unpleasant reminder of winter. The horses snorted as they rode into the forest and began to fog up.
Lackey Peter said something to the coachman, the coachman answered in the affirmative. But apparently Peter had little sympathy for the coachman: he turned on the box to the master.
Your Excellency, how easy it is! he said, smiling respectfully.
Easy, your Excellency.
What is he saying? thought Prince Andrei. Yes, that’s right about spring, he thought, looking around. And everything is already green... how soon! And the birch, and the bird cherry, and the alder are already beginning... And the oak is not noticeable. Yes, here it is, the oak tree.
There was an oak tree on the edge of the road. Probably ten times older than the birches that made up the forest, it was ten times thicker and twice as tall as each birch. It was a huge oak tree, two girths wide, with branches that had been broken off for a long time and with broken bark overgrown with old sores. With his huge, clumsy, asymmetrically splayed, gnarled hands and fingers, he stood like an old, angry and contemptuous freak between the smiling birch trees. Only he alone did not want to submit to the charm of spring and did not want to see either spring or the sun.
Spring, and love, and happiness! as if this oak tree was speaking, and how can you not get tired of the same stupid and senseless deception. Everything is the same, and everything is a lie! There is no spring, no sun, no happiness. Look there, the crushed dead spruce trees are sitting, always the same, and there I am, spreading out my broken, skinned fingers, wherever they grew from the back, from the sides; I still stand as I grew up, and I don’t believe your hopes and deceptions.
Prince Andrei looked back at this oak tree several times while driving through the forest, as if he was expecting something from it. There were flowers and grass under the oak tree, but he still stood, frowning, motionless, ugly and stubborn, in the midst of them.
Yes, he is right, this oak tree is right a thousand times, thought Prince Andrei, let others, young people, again succumb to this deception, but we know life, our life is over! A whole new series of hopeless, but sadly pleasant thoughts in connection with this oak tree arose in the soul of Prince Andrei. During this journey, he seemed to think about his whole life again, and came to the same old reassuring and hopeless conclusion that he did not need to start anything, that he should live out his life without doing evil, without worrying and without wanting anything.
- 2 descriptions of oak:
1) There was an oak tree on the edge of the road. Probably ten times older than the birches that made up the forest, it was ten times thicker, and twice as tall as each birch. It was a huge oak tree, twice the girth, with branches that had apparently been broken off for a long time and with broken bark overgrown with old sores. With his huge, clumsily, asymmetrically splayed, gnarled arms and fingers, he stood like an old, angry and contemptuous freak between the smiling birch trees. Only he alone did not want to submit to the charm of spring and did not want to see either spring or the sun.
Spring, and love, and happiness! as if this oak tree was speaking. And how can you not get tired of the same stupid, senseless deception! Everything is the same, and everything is a lie! There is no spring, no sun, no happiness. Look, there are the crushed dead spruce trees sitting, always the same, and there I am, spreading out my broken, skinned fingers, wherever they grew from the back, from the sides. As I grew up, I still stand, and I don’t believe your hopes and deceptions.
Prince Andrei looked back at this oak tree several times while driving through the forest, as if he was expecting something from it. There were flowers and grass under the oak tree, but he still stood in the midst of them, frowning, motionless, ugly and stubborn.
Yes, he is right, this oak tree is right a thousand times, thought Prince Andrei, let others, young people, again succumb to this deception, but we know life, our life is over! A whole new series of hopeless, but sadly pleasant thoughts in connection with this oak tree arose in the soul of Prince Andrei. During this journey, he seemed to think about his whole life again and came to the same old, reassuring and hopeless conclusion that he didn’t need to start anything, that he should live out his life without doing evil, without worrying and without wanting anything. .2) It was already the beginning of June when Prince Andrei, returning home, again drove into that birch grove in which this old, gnarled oak tree struck him so strangely and memorably. The bells rang even more muffled in the forest than a month ago; everything was full, shady and dense; and the young spruces, scattered throughout the forest, did not disturb the overall beauty and, imitating the general character, were tenderly green with fluffy young shoots.
It was hot all day, a thunderstorm was gathering somewhere, but only a small cloud splashed on the dust of the road and on the succulent leaves. The left side of the forest was dark, in shadow; the right one, wet, glossy, glistened in the sun, slightly swaying in the wind. Everything was in bloom; the nightingales chattered and rolled, now close, now far away.
Yes, here, in this forest, there was this oak tree with which we agreed, thought Prince Andrei. Where is he? Prince Andrei thought again, looking at the left side of the road and, without knowing it, without recognizing him, admired the oak tree he was looking for. The old oak tree, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of lush, dark greenery, was melting, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No gnarled fingers, no sores, no old grief and mistrust were visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the hundred-year-old hard bark without knots, so it was impossible to believe that it was the old man who produced them. Yes, this is the same oak tree, thought Prince Andrei, and suddenly an unreasonable spring feeling of joy and renewal came over him. All the best moments of his life suddenly came back to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with the high sky, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl excited by the beauty of the night, and this night, and the moon and all this suddenly came to his mind.
No, life is not over for thirty-one years, Prince Andrei suddenly finally decided. Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary for everyone to know it: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly into the sky, it is necessary for everyone to know me, so that my life does not go on for me alone so that they don’t live like this girl, regardless of my life, so that it affects everyone and so that they all live with me!
"...On the edge of the road stood an oak tree. It was probably ten times older than the birches that made up the forest, ten times thicker and twice as tall as each birch. It was a huge oak tree, twice the girth, with broken branches and bark , overgrown with old sores. With huge, clumsily, asymmetrically splayed, gnarled hands and fingers, he stood like an old, angry and contemptuous freak between the smiling birches. Only he did not want to submit to the charm of spring and did not want to see either spring or the sun.
This oak tree seemed to say: “Spring, and love, and happiness! And how can you not get tired of the same stupid, senseless deception! Everything is the same, and everything is a lie! There is no spring, no sun, no happiness. Look, there are the crushed dead spruce trees sitting, always alone, and there I spread out my broken, skinned fingers, growing from the back, from the sides - anywhere. As I grew up, I still stand, and I don’t believe your hopes and deceptions.”
Prince Andrei looked back at this oak tree several times while driving through the forest. There were flowers and grass under the oak tree, but he still stood in the middle of them, gloomy, motionless, ugly and stubborn.
“Yes, he’s right, this oak tree is right a thousand times,” thought Prince Andrei. “Let others, young people, succumb to this deception again, but we know: our life is over!” A whole series of thoughts, hopeless, but sadly pleasant, in connection with this oak tree arose in the soul of Prince Andrei. During this journey, he seemed to think over his whole life again and came to the same reassuring and hopeless conclusion that he did not need to start anything, that he should live out his life without doing evil, without worrying and without wanting anything...
It was already the beginning of June when Prince Andrei, returning home, again drove into that birch grove in which this old, gnarled oak had struck him so strangely and memorably. “Here in this forest there was this oak tree that we agreed with. Where is he? - thought Prince Andrei, looking at the left side of the road. Without knowing it, he admired the oak tree he was looking for, but now he did not recognize it.
The old oak tree, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of lush, dark greenery, was melting, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No gnarled fingers, no sores, no old grief and mistrust - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the hundred-year-old hard bark without knots, so it was impossible to believe that it was the old man who produced them. “Yes, this is the same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and suddenly an unreasonable spring feeling of joy and renewal came over him. All the best moments of his life suddenly came back to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with the high sky, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl excited by the beauty of the night, and this night, and the moon - all this suddenly came to his mind.
“No, life is not over at thirty-one,” Prince Andrei suddenly finally and irrevocably decided. - Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary that everyone knows it: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly into the sky. It is necessary that my life does not go on for me alone, that it is reflected on everyone and that they all live with me.”
Mood: No
Music: STV radio
I
In 1808, Emperor Alexander traveled to Erfurt for a new meeting with Emperor Napoleon, and in high society in St. Petersburg there was a lot of talk about the greatness of this solemn meeting. In 1809, the closeness of the two rulers of the world, as Napoleon and Alexander were called, reached the point that when Napoleon declared war on Austria that year, the Russian corps went abroad to assist their former enemy, Bonaparte, against their former ally, the Austrian Emperor, to the point that in high society they talked about the possibility of a marriage between Napoleon and one of the sisters of Emperor Alexander. But, in addition to external political considerations, at this time the attention of Russian society was especially keenly drawn to the internal transformations that were being carried out at that time in all parts of public administration. Life, meanwhile, the real life of people with their essential interests of health, illness, work, rest, with their interests of thought, science, poetry, music, love, friendship, hatred, passions, went on, as always, independently and without political affinity or enmity with Napoleon Bonaparte and beyond all possible transformations. Prince Andrei lived in the village for two years without a break. All those enterprises on estates that Pierre started and did not bring to any result, constantly moving from one thing to another, all these enterprises, without expressing them to anyone and without noticeable labor, were carried out by Prince Andrei. He had, to a high degree, that practical tenacity that Pierre lacked, which, without scope or effort on his part, set things in motion. One of his estates of three hundred peasant souls was transferred to free cultivators (this was one of the first examples in Russia); in others, corvee was replaced by quitrent. In Bogucharovo, a learned grandmother was written out to his account to help mothers in labor, and for a salary the priest taught the children of peasants and courtyard servants to read and write. Prince Andrei spent one half of his time in Bald Mountains with his father and son, who was still with the nannies; the other half of the time in the Bogucharov monastery, as his father called his village. Despite the indifference he showed Pierre to all external events of the world, he diligently followed them, received many books and, to his surprise, noticed when fresh people came to him or his father from St. Petersburg, from the very whirlpool of life, that these people in knowledge of everything that is happening in foreign and domestic policy, they are far behind him, who sits in the village all the time. In addition to classes on names, except general studies While reading a wide variety of books, Prince Andrei was at this time engaged in a critical analysis of our last two unfortunate campaigns and drawing up a project to change our military regulations and regulations. In the spring of 1809, Prince Andrei went to the Ryazan estates of his son, of whom he was the guardian. Warmed by the spring sun, he sat in the stroller, looking at the first grass, the first birch leaves and the first clouds of white spring clouds scattering across the bright blue sky. He didn’t think about anything, but looked around cheerfully and meaninglessly. We passed the carriage on which he had spoken with Pierre a year ago. We drove through a dirty village, threshing floors, greenery, a descent with remaining snow near the bridge, an ascent through washed-out clay, stripes of stubble and green bushes here and there, and entered a birch forest on both sides of the road. It was almost hot in the forest; you couldn’t hear the wind. The birch, all covered with green sticky leaves, did not move, and from under last year’s leaves, lifting them, the first grass and purple flowers crawled out, turning green. The small spruce trees scattered here and there throughout the birch forest, with their coarse, eternal greenness, were an unpleasant reminder of winter. The horses snorted as they entered the forest and began to fog up. Lackey Peter said something to the coachman, the coachman answered in the affirmative. But, apparently, the coachman’s sympathy was not enough for Peter: he turned on the box to the master. - Your Excellency, how easy it is! - he said, smiling respectfully.- What? - Easy, your Excellency. “What is he saying? - thought Prince Andrei. “Yes, that’s right about spring,” he thought, looking around. - And then, everything is already green... how soon! And the birch, and the bird cherry, and the alder are already starting... But the oak is unnoticeable. Yes, here it is, the oak tree.” There was an oak tree on the edge of the road. Probably ten times older than the birches that made up the forest, it was ten times thicker, and twice as tall as each birch. It was a huge oak tree, twice the girth, with branches that had apparently been broken off for a long time and with broken bark overgrown with old sores. With his huge, clumsily, asymmetrically splayed, gnarled arms and fingers, he stood like an old, angry and contemptuous freak between the smiling birch trees. Only he alone did not want to submit to the charm of spring and did not want to see either spring or the sun. “Spring, and love, and happiness! - it was as if this oak tree was speaking. - And how can you not get tired of the same stupid, senseless deception! Everything is the same, and everything is a lie! There is no spring, no sun, no happiness. Look, there are the crushed dead spruce trees sitting, always the same, and there I am, spreading out my broken, skinned fingers, wherever they grew - from the back, from the sides. As I grew up, I still stand, and I don’t believe your hopes and deceptions.” Prince Andrei looked back at this oak tree several times while driving through the forest, as if he was expecting something from it. There were flowers and grass under the oak tree, but he still stood in the midst of them, frowning, motionless, ugly and stubborn. “Yes, he is right, this oak tree is right a thousand times,” thought Prince Andrei, “let others, young people, again succumb to this deception, but we know life, our life is over!” A whole new series of hopeless, but sadly pleasant thoughts in connection with this oak tree arose in the soul of Prince Andrei. During this journey, he seemed to think about his whole life again and came to the same old, reassuring and hopeless conclusion that he didn’t need to start anything, that he should live out his life without doing evil, without worrying and without wanting anything. .In 1808, Emperor Alexander traveled to Erfurt for a new meeting with Napoleon, and in high society there was a lot of talk about the importance of this event. In 1809, the closeness of the two “lords of the world,” as Alexander and Napoleon were called, reached such a point that when Napoleon declared war on Austria, the Russian corps went abroad to fight on the side of the former enemy against the former ally, the Austrian emperor.
Life is ordinary people went on as usual, with her questions of health, love, work, hope, etc., regardless of Napoleon’s relationship with Alexander. Prince Andrei lived in the village for two years, without leaving anywhere. All those measures that Pierre started on his estate and which he could not bring to any result, all these measures, without much difficulty, were successfully implemented by Prince Andrei. He, unlike Bezukhov, had that practical tenacity, thanks to which things moved forward without his special efforts. He listed some peasants as free cultivators, and for others he replaced corvée with quitrent. Peasants and servants learned to read and write, and a learned midwife was assigned especially for them. Andrei spent one part of his time in Bald Mountains with his father and son, the other on the Bogucharovo estate. At the same time, he closely followed external events, read and thought a lot. In the spring of 1809, Prince Andrei went to the Ryazan estate of his son, who was under his care.
Warmed by the spring sun, he sat in the stroller, looking at the first grass, the first birch leaves and the first clouds of white spring clouds scattering across the bright blue sky. He didn’t think about anything, but looked around cheerfully and meaninglessly...
There was an oak tree on the edge of the road. Probably ten times older than the birches that made up the forest, it was ten times thicker and twice as tall as each birch. It was a huge oak tree, two girths wide, with branches that had been broken off for a long time and with broken bark overgrown with old sores. With his huge, clumsy, asymmetrically splayed, gnarled hands and fingers, he stood like an old, angry and contemptuous freak between the smiling birch trees. Only he alone did not want to submit to the charm of spring and did not want to see either spring or the sun.
“Spring, and love, and happiness!” - this oak tree seemed to say, “and how can you not get tired of the same stupid and senseless deception. Everything is the same, and everything is a lie! There is no spring, no sun, no happiness. Look, there are the crushed dead spruce trees sitting, always the same, and there I am, spreading out my broken, skinned fingers, wherever they grew - from the back, from the sides; As we grew up, I still stand, and I don’t believe your hopes and deceptions.”
Prince Andrei looked back at this oak tree several times while driving through the forest, as if he was expecting something from it. There were flowers and grass under the oak tree, but he still stood in the midst of them, frowning, motionless, ugly and stubborn.
“Yes, he is right, this oak tree is right a thousand times,” thought Prince Andrei, let others, young people, again succumb to this deception, but we know life, “our life is over!” A whole new series of hopeless, but sadly pleasant thoughts in connection with this oak tree arose in the soul of Prince Andrei. During this journey, he seemed to think about his whole life again, and came to the same old reassuring and hopeless conclusion that he did not need to start anything, that he should live out his life without doing evil, without worrying and without wanting anything.
For guardianship matters, Prince Andrei needed to see the district leader, Count Ilya Andreevich Rostov. Bolkonsky went to see him in Otradnoye, where the count lived as before, hosting the entire province, with hunts, theaters, dinners and musicians. Approaching the Rostovs' house, Andrei heard a woman's scream and saw a crowd of girls running across his stroller. Ahead of the others, closest to the carriage, ran a black-eyed girl in a yellow chintz dress, shouting something. But recognizing the stranger, she ran back without looking at him. The girl that Prince Andrei paid attention to was Natasha Rostova. When looking at her, Bolkonsky suddenly felt pain.
“Why is she so happy? What is she thinking about? And what makes her happy?” - Prince Andrei involuntarily asked himself with curiosity.
During the day, during which Andrei was occupied by the senior owners and guests who had arrived at Rostov’s estate on the occasion of his name day, he more than once fixed his gaze on Natasha, who was having fun, trying to understand what she was thinking and why she was so happy.
In the evening, left alone in a new place, he could not fall asleep for a long time. He read, then put out the candle and lit it again...
Prince Andrei's room was on the middle floor; They also lived in the rooms above it and did not sleep. He heard a woman talking from above.
Just one more time,” said a female voice from above, which Prince Andrei now recognized.
When will you sleep? - answered another voice.
I won’t, I can’t sleep, what should I do! Well, last time...
Oh, how lovely! Well, now sleep, and that's the end.
“You sleep, but I can’t,” answered the first voice approaching the window. She apparently leaned out of the window completely, because the rustling of her dress and even her breathing could be heard. Everything became silent and petrified, like the moon and its light and shadows. Prince Andrei was also afraid to move, so as not to betray his involuntary presence.
Sonya reluctantly answered something.
No, look what a moon it is!.. Oh, what a beauty! Come here. Darling, my dear, come here. Well, do you see? So I would squat down, like this, grab myself under the knees - tighter, as tight as possible - you have to strain - and fly... Just like that!
Come on, you'll fall.
It's two o'clock after all.
Oh, you're just ruining everything for me. Well, go, go.
Again everything fell silent, but Prince Andrei knew that she was still sitting here, he sometimes heard quiet movements, sometimes sighs.
Ah... My God! My God! what is this! - she suddenly screamed.
Sleep like that! - and slammed the window.
“They don’t care about my existence!” - thought Prince Andrei as he listened to her conversation, for some reason expecting and fearing that she would say something about him. - “And there she is again! And how on purpose!” - he thought. In his soul suddenly arose such an unexpected confusion of young thoughts and hopes, contradicting his whole life, that he, feeling unable to understand his condition, immediately fell asleep.
The next day, having said goodbye only to the count, without waiting for the ladies to leave, Andrei went home. On the way back, he drove into the same birch grove in which he was struck by a gnarled oak tree. But now Andrei looked at him completely differently.
The old oak tree, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of lush, dark greenery, was melting, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No gnarled fingers, no sores, no old mistrust and grief - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves emerged from the branches through the tough hundred-year-old bark, so it was impossible to believe that this old man had produced them. “Yes, this is the same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and suddenly an unreasonable spring feeling of joy and renewal came over him. All the best moments of his life suddenly came back to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with the high sky, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl excited by the beauty of the night, and this night, and the moon - and all this suddenly came to his mind.
“No, life is not over at the age of 31,” Prince Andrei suddenly finally, unchangeably decided. Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary for everyone to know it: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly into the sky, it is necessary for everyone to know me, so that my life does not go on for me alone So that they don’t live so independently of my life, so that it affects everyone and so that they all live with me!”
Returning from a trip to the estates, Andrei unexpectedly decided to go to St. Petersburg in the fall. In August 1809, he realized his intention. “This time was the apogee of the glory of young Speransky and the energy of the revolutions he carried out.”