Heart of Darkness Joseph Conrad (novels in english txt) đ
- Author: Joseph Conrad
Book online «Heart of Darkness Joseph Conrad (novels in english txt) đ». Author Joseph Conrad
He was silent for a while.
â⊠No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of oneâs existenceâ âthat which makes its truth, its meaningâ âits subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dreamâ âalone.â ââ âŠâ
He paused again as if reflecting, then added:
âOf course in this you fellows see more than I could then. You see me, whom you know.â ââ âŠâ
It had become so pitch dark that we listeners could hardly see one another. For a long time already he, sitting apart, had been no more to us than a voice. There was not a word from anybody. The others might have been asleep, but I was awake. I listened, I listened on the watch for the sentence, for the word, that would give me the clue to the faint uneasiness inspired by this narrative that seemed to shape itself without human lips in the heavy night-air of the river.
â⊠Yesâ âI let him run on,â Marlow began again, âand think what he pleased about the powers that were behind me. I did! And there was nothing behind me! There was nothing but that wretched, old, mangled steamboat I was leaning against, while he talked fluently about âthe necessity for every man to get on.â âAnd when one comes out here, you conceive, it is not to gaze at the moon.â Mr. Kurtz was a âuniversal genius,â but even a genius would find it easier to work with âadequate toolsâ âintelligent men.â He did not make bricksâ âwhy, there was a physical impossibility in the wayâ âas I was well aware; and if he did secretarial work for the manager, it was because âno sensible man rejects wantonly the confidence of his superiors.â Did I see it? I saw it. What more did I want? What I really wanted was rivets, by heaven! Rivets. To get on with the workâ âto stop the hole. Rivets I wanted. There were cases of them down at the coastâ âcasesâ âpiled upâ âburstâ âsplit! You kicked a loose rivet at every second step in that station-yard on the hillside. Rivets had rolled into the grove of death. You could fill your pockets with rivets for the trouble of stooping downâ âand there wasnât one rivet to be found where it was wanted. We had plates that would do, but nothing to fasten them with. And every week the messenger, a long negro, letter-bag on shoulder and staff in hand, left our station for the coast. And several times a week a coast caravan came in with trade goodsâ âghastly glazed calico that made you shudder only to look at it, glass beads value about a penny a quart, confounded spotted cotton handkerchiefs. And no rivets. Three carriers could have brought all that was wanted to set that steamboat afloat.
âHe was becoming confidential now, but I fancy my unresponsive attitude must have exasperated him at last, for he judged it necessary to inform me he feared neither God nor devil, let alone any mere man. I
Comments (0)