Ethel Lilian Voynich


Born
in County Cork, Ireland
May 11, 1864

Died
July 27, 1960

Genre


Ethel Lilian Voynich, née Boole was a novelist and musician, and a supporter of several revolutionary causes. Her father was the famous mathematician George Boole. Her mother was feminist philosopher Mary Everest, niece of George Everest and an author for the early-20th-century periodical Crank.In 1893 she married Wilfrid Michael Voynich, revolutionary, antiquarian and bibliophile, the eponym of the Voynich manuscript.

See also http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ethel_Li...

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More books by Ethel Lilian Voynich…
The Gadfly An Interrupted Friendship Put off thy shoes
(3 books)
by
4.17 avg rating — 7,642 ratings

“Dear Jim."

The writing grew suddenly blurred and misty. And she had lost him again--had lost him again! At the sight of the familiar childish nickname all the hopelessness of her bereavement came over her afresh, and she put out her hands in blind desperation, as though the weight of the earth-clods that lay above him were pressing on her heart.

Presently she took up the paper again and went on reading:

"I am to be shot at sunrise to-morrow. So if I am to keep at all my promise to tell you everything, I must keep it now. But, after all, there is not much need of explanations between you and me. We always understood each other without many words, even when we were little things.

"And so, you see, my dear, you had no need to break your heart over that old story of the blow. It was a hard hit, of course; but I have had plenty of others as hard, and yet I have managed to get over them,--even to pay back a few of them,--and here I am still, like the mackerel in our nursery-book (I forget its name), 'Alive and kicking, oh!' This is my last kick, though; and then, tomorrow morning, and--'Finita la Commedia!' You and I will translate that: 'The variety show is over'; and will give thanks to the gods that they have had, at least, so much mercy on us. It is not much, but it is something; and for this and all other blessings may we be truly thankful!


"About that same tomorrow morning, I want both you and Martini to understand clearly that I am quite happy and satisfied, and could ask no better thing of Fate. Tell that to Martini as a message from me; he is a good fellow and a good comrade, and he will understand. You see, dear, I know that the stick-in-the-mud people are doing us a good turn and themselves a bad one by going back to secret trials and executions so soon, and I know that if you who are left stand together steadily and hit hard, you will see great things. As for me, I shall go out into the courtyard with as light a heart as any child starting home for the holidays. I have done my share of the work, and this death-sentence is the proof that I have done it thoroughly. They kill me because they are afraid of me; and what more can any man's heart desire?


"It desires just one thing more, though. A man who is going to die has a right to a personal fancy, and mine is that you should see why I have always been such a sulky brute to you, and so slow to forget old scores. Of course, though, you understand why, and I tell you only for the pleasure of writing the words. I loved you, Gemma, when you were an ugly little girl in a gingham frock, with a scratchy tucker and your hair in a pig-tail down your back; and I love you still. Do you remember that day when I kissed your hand, and when you so piteously begged me 'never to do that again'? It was a scoundrelly trick to play, I know; but you must forgive that; and now I kiss the paper where I have written your name. So I have kissed you twice, and both times without your consent.




"That is all. Good-bye, my dear"






Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live
Or if I die”
Ethel Lillian Voynich

“They kill me because they are afraid of me; and what more can any man's heart desire? ”
Ethel Lillian Voynich

“خرمگس به ناگهان دست هایش را با حرکتی پرشور از هم گشود و گفت
آیا هرگز با خود فکر نکرده اید که این گوژپشت بینوا هم انسان است و روح دارد؟ یک روح زنده که تلاش می کند ولی با این وضع و حال، اسیر این پیکر خمیده شده و ناگزیر به بندگی است؟ شما که نسبت به هر چیزی این قدر حساس و نازک دل هستید؟ شما که دلتان به حال جسمی در لباس احمق ها می سوزد ، هرگز به روح بدبختی که حتی آن لباس رنگارنگ را ندارد که برهنگی وحشتناکس را بپوشاند فکر کرده اید؟ شما به روحی بیاندیشید که از سرما می لرزد و از شرم و بدبختی در برابر آن همه انسان خفه می شود. او ریشخندهای مردم را که مانند تازیانه ای به وجودش می خورد
حس میکند و خنده هایشان را که مثل آهن تفته ای تن سوز است لمس می کند!
بله، شما به روحی به انسانی بیندیشید که دربرابر چشم آنان با درماندگی نگران کوه ها است که بر او فرو نمی ریزند. نگران صخره هاست که پنهانش نمی کنند و سرانجام به موش هایی که می توانند خود را درون سوراخی پنهان کنند،
رشک می برد این را هم فراموش نکنید که روح لال است. صدایی ندارد که فریاد برآورد، باید تحمل کند و باز هم تحمل و باز هم تحمل...”
Ethel Lilian Voynich, خرمگس

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