Bible. Genesis -- History of Biblical events -- Fiction; Diary fiction; Eve (Biblical figure) -- Fiction; Humorous stories
Produced by David Widger and Cindy Rosenthal
EVE'S DIARY
By Mark Twain
Illustrated by Lester Ralph
Translated from the Original
Part 3.
EXTRACT FROM ADAM'S DIARY
Perhaps I ought to remember that she is very young, a mere girl and make
allowances. She is all interest, eagerness, vivacity, the world is to
her a charm, a wonder, a mystery, a joy; she can't speak for delight
when she finds a new flower, she must pet it and caress it and smell it
and talk to it, and pour out endearing names upon it. And she is
color-mad: brown rocks, yellow sand, gray moss, green foliage, blue sky;
the pearl of the dawn, the purple shadows on the mountains, the golden
islands floating in crimson seas at sunset, the pallid moon sailing
through the shredded cloud-rack, the star-jewels glittering in the
wastes of space--none of them is of any practical value, so far as I can
see, but because they have color and majesty, that is enough for her,
and she loses her mind over them. If she could quiet down and keep still
a couple minutes at a time, it would be a reposeful spectacle. In that
case I think I could enjoy looking at her; indeed I am sure I could, for
I am coming to realize that she is a quite remarkably comely creature
--lithe, slender, trim, rounded, shapely, nimble, graceful; and once
when she was standing marble-white and sun-drenched on a boulder, with
her young head tilted back and her hand shading her eyes, watching the
flight of a bird in the sky, I recognized that she was beautiful.
MONDAY NOON.--If there is anything on the planet that she is not
interested in it is not in my list. There are animals that I am
indifferent to, but it is not so with her. She has no discrimination,
she takes to all of them, she thinks they are all treasures, every new
one is welcome.
When the mighty brontosaurus came striding into camp, she regarded it as
an acquisition, I considered it a calamity; that is a good sample of the
lack of harmony that prevails in our views of things. She wanted to
domesticate it, I wanted to make it a present of the homestead and move
out. She believed it could be tamed by kind treatment and would be a
good pet; I said a pet twenty-one feet high and eighty-four feet long
would be no proper thing to have about the place, because, even with the
best intentions and without meaning any harm, it could sit down on the
house and mash it, for any one could see by the look of its eye that it
was absent-minded.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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