Status Updates From The Exile: A novel about Ta...
The Exile: A novel about Taras Shevchenko by
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Michael
is on page 347 of 501
Julian and Jaisak did not notice how the black-blue sky I the tinfuk flooded with a blue glow that had swallowed up the stars. The night passed by in a fleeting moment.
— Feb 14, 2021 11:36PM
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Michael
is on page 250 of 501
Very interesting exploration and rebellion against serfdom.
— Oct 24, 2020 11:57AM
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Michael
is on page 236 of 501
I like it how the story develops. As they reach the blue lake it is getting really interesting but also many farewells
— Oct 10, 2020 12:10PM
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Michael
is on page 223 of 501
"This expedition is the main purpose of my life. Throughout many sleepless nights I have been thinking about it, dreaming of it. ... Man's soul yearns for the new and unknown", the exited Butakov lapsed into silence.
— Sep 27, 2020 11:46AM
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Michael
is on page 177 of 501
Life is a continuance of endless partings with something or someone ...
— Aug 31, 2020 02:32PM
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Michael
is on page 139 of 501
The story of the jigits and the chapter "the taming" is really good, although it seems to have little to do with Shevchenko.
— Jul 06, 2020 08:52AM
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Michael
is on page 42 of 501
"This was Shevchenko, the marvelous magician of the word who for the first time had made the Ukrainian language sound with the same force and beauty as the Russian under a magic pen of Pushkin and Lermontov, and on the German in the fiery verse of Friedrich Schiller."
— Jun 02, 2020 12:23AM
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Michael
is on page 27 of 501
Summoning his will, Lazarevsky forced himself to buckle down to
work: he had to write an account on the results of an investigation into
an intricate complaint, the disentanglement of which would have made
even the devil go up in smoke in cool weather, let alone in a torrid blaze
of forty degrees centigrade. Three times he started to write, and every
time he had to throw it into the paper basket.
— May 28, 2020 03:05PM
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work: he had to write an account on the results of an investigation into
an intricate complaint, the disentanglement of which would have made
even the devil go up in smoke in cool weather, let alone in a torrid blaze
of forty degrees centigrade. Three times he started to write, and every
time he had to throw it into the paper basket.
Michael
is on page 21 of 501
“I’ll die tomorrow,” the old man said in a stern and matter-
of-fact manner. “Let me admire the sun for the last time… and
the land… It’s so beautiful,” he added quietly. “Tell the people to
come and bid me farewell.”
— May 28, 2020 02:54PM
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of-fact manner. “Let me admire the sun for the last time… and
the land… It’s so beautiful,” he added quietly. “Tell the people to
come and bid me farewell.”
