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Selected short stories / Katherine Mansfield

dc.contributor Dawson, J.L., (John Lewis), 1945- Literary and Linguistic Computing Centre University of Cambridge Cambridge Mansfield, Katherine, 1888-1923
dc.coverage.placeName s.l. 2018-07-27 2019-07-04T10:59:00Z 2019-07-04T10:59:00Z 1912-1923 1977-10-29
dc.identifier ota:0092
dc.description.abstract Contents: Bliss; The Man Without A Temperament; Sun and Moon; The Garden-Party; Life of Ma Parker; Miss Brill; Bank Holiday; The Lady's Maid; The Doll's House; Taking the Veil; The Fly; The Canary; Six Years After; Daphne; Honesty; Second Violin; The Tiredness of Rosabel; New Dresses; Ole Underwood; Spring Pictures; Carnation; A Blaze
dc.format.extent Text data (1 file : ca. 278 KB)
dc.format.medium Digital bitstream
dc.language English
dc.language.iso eng
dc.publisher University of Oxford
dc.relation.ispartof Legacy Collection Digital Museum
dc.rights Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
dc.rights.label PUB
dc.subject.lcsh Short stories, English -- 20th century
dc.subject.other Short stories
dc.title Selected short stories / Katherine Mansfield
dc.type Text
has.files yes
branding Oxford Text Archive
files.size 289846
files.count 2 1900-1999

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<T Bliss><Y 1920><P 111> Although Bertha Young was thirty she still had moments like this when she wanted to run instead of walk, to take dancing steps on and off the pavement, to bowl a hoop, to throw something up in the air and catch it again, or to stand still and laugh at - nothing - at nothing, simply. What can you do if you are thirty and, turning the corner of your own street, you are overcome, suddenly, by a feeling of bliss - absolute bliss! - as though you'd suddenly swallowed a bright piece of that late afternoon sun and it burned in your bosom, sending out a little shower of sparks into every particle, into every finger and toe?... Oh, is there no way you can express it without being "drunk and disorderly"? How idiotic civilisation is. Why be given a body if you have to keep it shut up in a case like a rare, rare fiddle? "No, that about the fiddle is not quite what I mean," she thought, running up the steps and feeling in her bag for the key - she'd forgotten it, . . .

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