Tuesday, April 25, 2006

...on and on and on...

Found this really loooong sentence in the book I am reading, Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.

Whoever, at that day, had passed through the little city of Vernon, and walked over that beautiful monumental bridge which will be very soon replaced, let us hope, by some horrid wire bridge, would have noticed, as his glance fell from the top of the parapet, a man about fifty, with a leather casque on his head, dressed in pantaloons and waistcoat of coarse gray cloth, to which something yellow was stitched which had been a red ribbon, shod in wooden shoes, browned by the sun, his face almost black and his hair almost white, a large scar upon his forehead extending down his cheek, bent, bowed down, older than his years, walking nearly every day with a spade and a pruning knife in his hand, in one of those walled compartments, in the vicinity of the bridge, which, like a chain of terraces, border the left bank of the Seine.

Now this book is translated by someone but I don't know if the translator will take so much liberty so as to add such a huge sentence without it existing in the original work. In my memory I haven't read a longer sentence than this, if you have seen something longer or even feel that you can write one longer let me know ;-)

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