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- Gedogen is slecht begrepen tolerantie
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- Walvis met café in zijn buik
- Gedogen is slecht begrepen tolerantie
- Kikkergedicht uit Spanje
- Nederlandse Grondwet: ''Wij, burgers van Europa''
- Walvis met café in zijn buik
Archief - 2010
- Column
- Feuilleton
- Nieuws
- Recensie
- Interview
- Reportage
- Achtergrond
- Essay
- Column
- Feuilleton
- Nieuws
- Recensie
- Interview
- Reportage
- Achtergrond
- Essay
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Pagina 1 van 472
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT PART I CHAPTER I On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge. He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house and was more like a cupboard than a room. The landlady who provided him with garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her. This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary; but for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not only his landlady, but anyone at all. He was crushed by poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh upon him. He had given up attending to matters of practical importance; he had lost all desire to do so. Nothing that any landlady could do had a real terror for him. But to be stopped on the stairs, to be forced to listen to her trivial, irrelevant gossip, to pestering demands for payment, threats and complaints, and to rack his brains for excuses, to prevaricate, to lie--no, rather than that, he would creep down the stairs like a cat and slip out unseen. This evening, however, on coming out into the street, he became acutely aware of his fears. "I want to attempt a thing _like that_ and am frightened by these trifles," he thought, with an odd smile. "Hm... yes, all is in a man's hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that's an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most.... But I am talking too much. It's because I chatter that
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT PART I CHAPTER I On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge. He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house and was more like a cupboard than a room. The landlady who provided him with garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her. This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary; but for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not only his landlady, but anyone at all. He was crushed by poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh upon him. He had given up attending to matters of practical importance; he had lost all desire to do so. Nothing that any landlady could do had a real terror for him. But to be stopped on the stairs, to be forced to listen to her trivial, irrelevant gossip, to pestering demands for payment, threats and complaints, and to rack his brains for excuses, to prevaricate, to lie--no, rather than that, he would creep down the stairs like a cat and slip out unseen. This evening, however, on coming out into the street, he became acutely aware of his fears. "I want to attempt a thing _like that_ and am frightened by these trifles," he thought, with an odd smile. "Hm... yes, all is in a man's hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that's an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most.... But I am talking too much. It's because I chatter that
Recensies | ||
Een schreeuw om recht Roland Bertens, 160 x gelezen Met Een schreeuw om recht zet voormalig hoogleraar strafrecht, oud-minister van Justitie en oud-minister-president van Nederland (1977-1982) Dries van Agt zich in om de Nederlandse aandacht te vestigen op het onrecht dat het Palestijnse volk wordt aangedaan in Israël en de bezette gebieden. Lees verder... | ||
Interview | ||
'Mijn clan laat me koud' Mark Zaremba, 158 x gelezen Somalië is precies vijftig jaar onafhankelijk volgende week donderdag, 1 juli. Het land komt vooral in het nieuws vanwege piraterij, oorlog of besnijdenis. Jammer, vindt Mahad Musse Ahmed, geboren in Mogadishu in 1981. Somalië is meer dan dat. Musse Ahmed vertelt, vanuit het kantoor van de mede door hem opgerichte Stichting NedSom, een van de oudste Somalische organisaties in Nederland, over zijn vlucht uit Somalië, Ayaan Hirsi Ali en het Oranjegevoel. Lees verder... | ||
Column | ||
De Katholieke Kerk Hans Schouwenburg, 179 x gelezen Over misstanden in de Katholieke Kerk Lees verder... | ||
Reportage | ||
Walvis met café in zijn buik Mark Zaremba, 238 x gelezen 's Werelds enige opgezette blauwe vinvis is te zien in het Natuurhistorisch Museum van Göteborg. In 1865 werd hij gedood door vissers, gebalsemd en deed hij dienst als mobiel café op wielen, voortgetrokken door paarden. De reusachtige scharnierende bek geeft toegang tot het 16 meter lange dier, bekleed met een behangetje, tafeltjes en bankjes. Veel Zweden schijnen, als je het ze vraagt, te vertellen dat ze wel eens koffie gedronken hebben in de buik van de walvis, maar dat kan volgens het museum niet. Het café sloot al in 1918 toen de droogzwemmende rariteit verhuisde naar zijn huidige vaste locatie. Nu kunnen bezoekers alleen nog naar binnen in politieke campagnetijd, een grapje omdat het Zweedse woord voor walvis (valen) ook 'verkiezingen' betekent. Lees verder... | ||
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