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Project Gutenberg's The Crushed Flower and Other Stories, by Leonid Andreyev This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Crushed Flower and Other Stories Author: Leonid Andreyev Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5779] Posting Date: March 26, 2009 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRUSHED FLOWER AND OTHER *** Produced by Jarrod Newton THE CRUSHED FLOWER AND OTHER STORIES By Leonid Andreyev Translated by Herman Bernstein CONTENTS The Crushed Flower A Story Which Will Never Be Finished On the Day of the Crucifixion The Serpent's Story Love, Faith and Hope The Ocean Judas Iscariot and Others "The Man Who Found the Truth" THE CRUSHED FLOWER CHAPTER I His name was Yura. He was six years old, and the world was to him enormous, alive and bewitchingly mysterious. He knew the sky quite well. He knew its deep azure by day, and the white-breasted, half silvery, half golden clouds slowly floating by. He often watched them as he lay on his back upon the grass or upon the roof. But he did not know the stars so well, for he went to bed early. He knew well and remembered only one star--the green, bright and very attentive star that rises in the pale sky just before you go to bed, and that seemed to be the only star so large in the whole sky. But best of all, he knew the earth in the yard, in the street and in the garden, with all its inexhaustible wealth of stones, of velvety grass, of hot sand and of that wonderfully varied, mysterious and delightful dust which grown people did not notice at all from the height of their enormous size. And in falling asleep, as the last bright image of the passing day, he took along to his dreams a bit of hot, rubbed off stone bathed in sunshine or a thick layer of tenderly tickling, burning dust. When he went with his mother to the centre of the city along the large streets, he remembered best of all, upon his return, the wide, flat stones upon which his steps and his feet seemed terribly small, like two little boats. And even the multitude of revolving wheels and horses' heads did not impress them
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