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This is the moment when everyone is sleeping.

And if they are not it is because they didn't sleep at all. And everyone knows what's waiting for them. The day just begun and it will be a bad one, I can feel it. I wash my face and feel the fresh beard which has grown on my chin and cheeks. A beard rough like emery or like my life I might say. But I don't want to be all blood-and-thunder so I'm trying to concentrate on what I have to do.

I put on my uniform that was washed, starched and ironed but still smells like metal and you can see one or two little lighter spots on the black material. Is useless to try to get rid of them. And I got at the point where I don't care if I'm immaculate or not.

The hall is still quiet and just my steps can be heard in the total silence. I feel like I'm going willingly at my own funeral. The air is cold and I'm walking down the stairs for too much time already.

Through every hall I pass I see furrowed, scared or angry faces, even if they are sleeping or not. They are all like a huge, dreadful painting, made by some sick contemporary artist who tried to replicate the Inquisition. Neons are flashing in pace with my heart. I hear the siren deeply in my bones and I know a ship is coming. If it is not something we should fear I will not hear that siren again.

And I don't. Maybe is the ship with the food. I forgot if it comes today. When I finally arrive at the "chamber of secrets" the man had already died.

The poor body is standing inert on a chair. Another man stands beside him with a smile on his face. You didn't have to kill him if he told you all you wanted to know.

You would have done the same. But not with that smile.

My colleague puts on his jacket and leaves, wiping his face in the same time. Some young boys are cleaning the walls with hot water. Steam rises in the cold room and it warms my face a little. The drops of blood looks like red flowers on a green plain.

Arta Razboiului

The boy's hand goes up and down and the flowers are slowly disappearing. I feel like an important piece of art is removed with brutality. The last mark a man had left is destroyed. But it does not matter anymore. He is dead now and so will we. After I look hipnotized at the wall for some time I go in my way and let the poor guy in the hands of fate. I know what will happen. Everyone will forget about him, but not me. He was a good man. He saved me when I was just a young lad.

We were attaked and I was seriously injured. I remember when I stood stood helpless with my head on his lap, crying, praying not to die. I was young and scared and the last images I can remember are the beach, all those seagulls in the air and on the ground, the sound of the ocean, that magnificent sound that calmed me somehow. I remember the lullaby song of the waves, and my comrade, my friend who was crying over me.

He was imprisoned because he stoled weapons and sold them to the enemy. It wasn't much, but his daughter was sick. He did everything for her. I told him not to do it, but of course he didn't listened. All I could do was to take care of him after he was arrested.

My superiors considered he was a traitor and he deserved to die, but not after he tells everything he knows about the enemy. Obvious, he knew nothing, but he invented something and hopeed that he will be released.

My superiors hadn't left me to interrogate him, or at least to be near him. They thought I would help him to escape, and they were right. I even tried that once, but it did not work.

Now he is dead, I am alive and I am jealous of him. He will not fight the guilt of letting your comarade die like that, and not to be beside him. I know he wasn't mad at me. I hate him because of that, and I hate me for hating him. It's a vicious circle where you can not escape. I patrol for one or two hours and a priest comes and tells me he has been sent with a ship from a foreign country to keep the devil away from us and to take the evil out of some prisoner.

Even I don't expect the laugh that comes out of my mouth. I wish him luck and I go on the roof to calm down to admire the landscape that I kneow so well. The wind is blowing soft and I think maybe, just maybe, a place with absolute peace is possible. And if it is, then is right here, right now, on the top of all the suffering, and the hate and fear.

Here where you can see the ocean in all its magnificence and feel the silence while it fills you.

Principele machiavelli epub files

Without this silence, I think I would be dead by now. I walk down the stairs and I see the priest coming disappointed from a cell.

He tells me he will not give up until he takes the devil out of that man. I wish him luck again and walk away, decided to keep an eye on him for some time, to see what will happen. The days are passing and he is trying harder and harder to do what he was sent here for.

He seems young, thirty, maybe thirty-five years old. He is fasting, praying endlessly and trying every day to exorcise a man that probably is just insane. Three weeks have passed and the young priest has finally came to me and tells me I was right to laugh, it is insane to try to heal a mad person with prayers.

I don't think he is right, maybe that man is really possessed and you can help him, but not here.

Machiavelli considera ca un om politic trebuie sa posede competente si sa- si asume responsabilitati militare. Enjoy two classics o.

The Art of War - Niccolo Machiavelli.

Read 3 reviews from the world' s largest community for readers. EMBED for wordpress. Niccolo Machiavelli. This video is unavailable. Un model de conduita pentru un conducator. Sun tzu arta razboiului pdf. His father, Bernardo Machiavelli, was a lawyer, although not a very prosperous one, with much of his income derived from family property rather than his law practice.

He has often been called the father of modern political science. You may find them useful if you need ideas, but don' t plagiarize, because your instructor probably knows how to detect that. This site is like a library, you could find million book here by using search box in the widget. In The Essential Writings of Machiavelli, Peter Constantine has assembled a comprehensive collection that shows the true depth and breadth of a great Renaissance thinker.

Com hosted blogs and archive. All books are in clear copy here, and all files are secure so don' t worry about it. The format of ' The Art of War' was in socratic dialogue.

Pasquale Stoppelli Rome: Bulzoni, , with. Both parents were members of the old Florentine nobility. Niccolo Machiavelli - Arta Razboiului. Principele Machiavelli: pin. Voltaire said, " Machiavelli taught Europe the art of war; it had long been practiced, without being known. Ln Arta razboiului, limitele perspectivei sale, deseori unilaterala, provin din faptul ca interesul sau central nu este problema tehnicii si.

They are freely distributable with no payment required. His life falls naturally into three periods, each of which.

Five centuries later, after serving as a guide to Frederick the Great, Napoleon, and countless other military leaders, it remains an authoritative treatise on the fundamentals of warfare.I forgot if it comes today.

I even tried that once, but it did not work. The format of ' The Art of War' was in socratic dialogue.

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Sun tzu arta razboiului files, folders, and apps, audio will be ready for. A modest claim is. Obviously, I took them secretly. Both parents were members of the old Florentine nobility. Maybe is the ship with the food.