large/2344/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/yellow_wallpaper_gilman_ms_64kb_3
large/2344/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/yellow_wallpaper_gilman_ms_64kb
English
2344
We have been here two weeks, and I haven't felt like writing before, since that first day. I am sitting by the window now, up in this atrocious nursery, and there is nothing to hinder my writing as much as I please, save lack of strength. John is away all day, and even some nights when his cases are serious. I am glad my case is not serious! But these nervous troubles are dreadfully depressing. John does not know how much I really suffer. He knows there is no reason to suffer, and that satisfies him. WE HAVE BEEN HERE TWO WEEKS AND I HAVEN'T FELT LIKE WRITING BEFORE SINCE THAT FIRST DAY I AM SITTING BY THE WINDOW NOW UP IN THIS ATROCIOUS NURSERY AND THERE IS NOTHING TO HINDER MY WRITING AS MUCH AS I PLEASE SAVE LACK OF STRENGTH JOHN IS AWAY ALL DAY AND EVEN SOME NIGHTS WHEN HIS CASES ARE SERIOUS I AM GLAD MY CASE IS NOT SERIOUS BUT THOSE NERVOUS TROUBLES ARE DREADFULLY DEPRESSING JOHN DOES NOT KNOW HOW MUCH I REALLY SUFFER HE KNOWS THERE IS NO REASON TO SUFFER AND THAT SATISFIES HIM
. The paint and paper look as if a boys’ school had used it. It is stripped off—the paper—in great patches all around the head of my bed, about as far as I can reach, and in a great place on the other side of the room low down. I never saw a worse paper in my life. One of those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every artistic sin. It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough to constantly irritate, and provoke study, and when you follow the lame, uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide—plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard-of contradictions. The color is repellant, almost revolting; a smouldering, unclean yellow, strangely faded by the slow-turning sunlight. It is a dull yet lurid orange in some places, a sickly sulphur tint in others. No wonder the children hated it! I should hate it myself if I had to live in this room long. There comes John, and I must put this away,—he hates to have me write a word. GS AND THINGS IN THE WALLS THE PAINT AND PAPER LOOK AS IF A BOY'S SCHOOL HAD USED IT IT IS STRIPPED OFF THE PAPER IN GREAT PATCHES ALL AROUND THE HEAD OF MY BED ABOUT AS FAR AS I CAN REACH AND IN A GREAT PLACE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM LOW DOWN I NEVER SAW A WORSE PAPER IN MY LIFE ONE OF THOSE SPRAWLING FLAMBOYANT PATTERNS COMMITTING EVERY ARTISTIC SIN IT IS DULL ENOUGH TO CONFUSE THE EYE IN FOLLOWING PRONOUNCED ENOUGH TO CONSTANTLY IRRITATE AND PROVOKE STUDY AND WHEN YOU FOLLOW THE LAME UNCERTAIN CURVES FOR A LITTLE DISTANCE THEY SUDDENLY COMMIT SUICIDE PLUNGE OFF AT OUTRAGEOUS ANGLES DESTROY THEMSELVES IN UNHEARD OF CONTRADICTIONS THE COLOR IS REPELLENT ALMOST REVOLTING A SMOULDERING UNCLEAN YELLOW STRANGELY FADED BY THE SLOW TURNING SUNLIGHT IT IS A DULL YET LURID ORANGE IN SOME PLACES A SILKY SULPHUR TINT IN OTHERS NO WONDER THE CHILDREN HATED IT I SHOULD HATE IT MYSELF IF I HAD TO LIVE IN THIS ROOM LONG THERE COMES JOHN AND I MUST PUT THIS AWAY HE HATES TO HAVE ME WRITE A WORD
large/2344/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/yellow_wallpaper_gilman_ms_64kb
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