With great difficulty he got up, wandered into the nearest entrance, and tried to calm the blood with a handkerchief. Where there, I felt that I was holding on in a state of shock, the pain was rolling in more and more and I needed to do something quickly. And I can’t speak - my mouth is broken.
I decided to turn back home.
I walked down the street, I think without staggering. I remember this path well, about four hundred meters. There were a lot of people on the street. A woman and a girl, some couple, walked towards them, elderly woman, a man, young guys, they all looked at me with curiosity at first, and then averted their eyes, turned away. If only someone along this path would come up to me and ask what was wrong with me, if I needed help. I remembered the faces of many people, apparently with unconscious attention, heightened expectation of help...
The pain confused my consciousness, but I understood that if I lay down on the sidewalk now, they would calmly step over me and walk around me. We need to get home. So no one helped me.
Later I thought about this story. Could people mistake me for being drunk? It seems that no, it is unlikely that he made such an impression. But even if they took me for a drunk - they saw that I was covered in blood, something happened - I fell, they hit me - why didn’t they help, didn’t they at least ask what was the matter? So, “pass by, don’t get involved, don’t waste time, effort, it doesn’t concern me” has become a familiar feeling?
Remembering these people with bitterness, at first I was angry, accused, perplexed, then I began to remember myself. Something similar - a desire to step away, evade, not get involved - and her? I was. Incriminating himself, I realized how familiar this feeling had become in naked life, how it had warmed up and imperceptibly taken root.
I am not going to publicize yet another complaint about the deterioration of morals. The level of decline in our responsiveness, however, made us think twice. There is no one personally to blame. Who's to blame? I looked around and couldn’t find any visible reasons.
Thinking, I recalled the time at the front, when in the hungry trenches of life it was impossible to walk past him at the sight of a wounded man. From your part, from another - it was impossible for someone to turn away, pretend not to notice. They helped, carried, bandaged, gave a lift... Some people may have disturbed this life of front-line life, but there were deserters and crossbows. But we are not talking about them, we are now talking about the main clear rules of that time.
I don’t know the recipes for showing the mutual understanding we all need, but I am sure that only from our general understanding of the problem can some specific solutions emerge. One person - me, for example - can only ring this alarm bell and ask everyone to imbue it and think about what to do to make mercy warm our lives. (439 words) (According to D. A. Granin. From the essay “On Mercy”)
Retell the phext in detail.
Answer HQ, question: “What do you see as the reasons for the “decrease in Our responsiveness”?”
Retell the text concisely.
How would you answer the question asked by D. Granin: “What can we do to make mercy warm?”
(1) Last year something bad happened to me. (2) I was walking down the street, slipped and fell... (3) I fell unsuccessfully, it couldn’t have been worse: I broke the bridge of my nose, smashed my whole face, my arm popped out at my shoulder. (4) It was about seven o'clock in the evening. (5) In the city center, not far from the house where I live.
(b) With great difficulty he got up... (7) His face was covered in blood, his hand hung like a whip. (8) I wandered into the nearest entrance and tried to calm the blood with a handkerchief. (9) Where there - it continued to whip, and I felt that I was holding on in a state of shock, the pain was rolling in more and more and I had to do something quickly. (10) And I can’t speak - my mouth is broken.
(11) I decided to turn back home.
(12) I walked down the street, I think, without staggering. (13) He walked holding a bloody handkerchief to his face, his coat was already glistening with blood. (14) I remember this path well - about three hundred meters. (15) There were a lot of people on the street. (16) A woman and a girl, some couple, an elderly woman, a man, and young guys walked towards them. (17) At first they all looked at me with curiosity, and then averted their eyes and turned away. (18) If only someone along this path would come up to me and ask what was wrong with me, if I needed help. (19) I remembered the faces of many people - apparently with unconscious attention, heightened expectation of help...
(20) The pain confused my consciousness, but I understood that if I lay down on the sidewalk now, they would calmly step over me and walk around me. (21) We need to get home.
(22) Later I thought about this story. (23) Could people take me for a drunk? (24) Apparently not, it’s unlikely that I made such an impression. (25) But even if they took me for a drunk... (25) They saw that I was covered in blood, something happened: I fell, hit myself. (26) Why didn’t they help, didn’t they at least ask what was the matter? (27) So, the desire to pass by, not to get involved, not to waste time or effort has become commonplace, and “this doesn’t concern me” has become a belief?
(28) Thinking, I remembered these people with bitterness; At first I was angry, accused, perplexed, indignant, but then I began to remember myself. (29) And I looked for something similar in my behavior. (ZO) It’s easy to reproach others when you are in a difficult situation, but you must remember yourself. (31) I can’t say that I had exactly such a case, but I discovered something similar in my own behavior: the desire to step away, evade, not get involved... (32) And, having exposed myself, I began to understand how habitual this desire had become As it warmed up, it quietly took root.
(33) While thinking, I remembered something else. (34) I remembered the time at the front, when in the hungry trenches of our lives it was impossible to pass by him at the sight of a wounded man. (35) From your part, from the other - it was impossible for someone to turn away and pretend not to notice. (3b) They helped, carried, bandaged, gave a lift... (37) Some people may have violated this law of front-line life, because there were deserters and crossbows. (38) But we are not talking about them, we are now talking about the main life rules of that time.
(39) And after the war, this feeling of mutual assistance and mutual responsibility remained among us for a long time. (40) But gradually it disappeared. (41) It has become so lost that a person considers it possible to walk past someone who has fallen, who is injured, or who is lying on the ground. (42) We are used to making reservations that not all people are like that, not everyone acts like this, but I don’t want to make a reservation now. (43) Novgorod librarians once complained to me: “You write in the “Siege Book” how Leningraders raised those who had fallen from hunger, but the other day our employee twisted her ankle, fell in the middle of the square - and everyone walked past, no one stopped, didn't pick it up. (44) How is this so?” (45) Resentment and even reproach to me sounded in their words.
(46) And really, what is happening to us? (47) How did we get to this? (48) How did you go from normal responsiveness to indifference, to callousness? (49) How did this become common, normal?
(50) I am sure that a person is born with the ability to respond to the pain of others. (51) I think that this is innate, given to us along with our instincts, with our soul. (52) But if this feeling is not used, is not exercised, it weakens and atrophies.
(bZ) I remembered how in childhood my father, when we passed by beggars - and there were a lot of beggars in my childhood - always gave me a copper and said: go give me. (54) And I, overcoming fear - begging often looked scary - gave. (55) Sometimes I overcame my greed - I wanted to save the money for myself, we lived quite poorly. (56) Father never reasoned whether these petitioners were pretending or not, whether they were really crippled or not. (57) He did not delve into this: since he is a beggar, he must give money.
(58) And, as I now understand, this was the practice of mercy, that necessary exercise in mercy, without which this feeling cannot live. (59) Is mercy practiced in our lives today?.. (60) Is there a constant compulsion for this feeling? (61) A push, a call to him?
(62) There have always been and will continue to exist different opportunities for the manifestation of human mercy that need to be used. (63) Not only in emergency cases is it necessary to show mercy; it must find its recipients in everyday life. (64) Let the light of mercy not fade away in the hearts of people!
(According to D. Granin*)
* Daniil Aleksandrovich Granin (1919-2017) - Soviet and Russian writer, film scriptwriter, public figure.
Show full text
In the above text, D.A. Granin raises the problem of the need to show mercy to people.
Revealing this problem, the author turns to his memories. The writer describes a real-life situation: one day, due to an unsuccessful fall, he injured his face and arm. He was struck by the indifference of passersby, because no one inquired about his condition or offered help. Granin also recalls his childhood. His father always taught him to help the poor and never discussed whether they were faking it or not. He said: “If you are a beggar, you have to give.”
It is impossible not to agree with the writer's opinion. I believe that it is necessary to show indifference to the grief of others not only in any emergency situations, but also in everyday life in relation to all the people around us.
To confirm the validity of this statement, I will give examples from the literature. F.M. Dostoevsky in his novel “Crime and Punishment” touched upon many
Criteria
- 1 of 1 K1 Formulation of source text problems
- 3 of 3 K2
WRITE A CONCRETE SUMMARY URGENTLY
Last year, something bad happened to me. I was walking down the street, slipped and fell. I fell badly, it couldn’t have been worse: my face hit the curb, I broke my nose, my whole face was broken, my arm jumped out of my shoulder. It was about seven o’clock in the evening. In the center of the city, on Kirovsky Avenue, not far from the house where I live
With great difficulty I got up - my face was covered in blood, my hand hung like a whip. I wandered into the nearest entrance, tried to calm the blood with a handkerchief. Where there, it continued to gush, I felt that I was holding on in a state of shock, the pain was rolling in more and more intensely and I had to quickly do something And say - I can’t - my mouth is broken
I decided to turn back home
I walked down the street, I think, without staggering; I walked, holding a bloody handkerchief to my face, my coat was already shining with blood. I often remember this path - about three hundred meters. There were a lot of people on the street.
A woman and a girl walked towards me, some couple, an elderly woman, a man, young guys, all of them at first looked at me with curiosity, and then averted their eyes, turned away. If only someone along this path came up to me and asked what was wrong with me, don't you need some help?
I remembered the faces of many people, apparently with unconscious attention, heightened expectation of help
The pain confused my mind, but I understood that if I lay down on the sidewalk now, they would calmly step over me and walk around me. We need to get home
Later I thought about this story. Could people have mistaken me for a drunk? It seems that no, it’s unlikely that I made such an impression. But even if they had mistaken me for a drunk, they saw that I was covered in blood, something happened - I fell, hit myself - Why didn’t they help, didn’t they at least ask what was the matter? So, passing by, not getting involved, not wasting time, effort, “this doesn’t concern me” has become a familiar feeling
Thinking, I remembered these people with bitterness, at first I was angry, accused, perplexed, indignant, but then I began to remember myself
And I looked for something similar in my behavior. It’s easy to reproach others when you are in a difficult situation, but you must remember yourself. I can’t say that I had exactly such a case, but I found something similar in my own behavior - the desire to move away, evade, not get involved And, having exposed himself, he began to understand how habitual this feeling had become, how it had warmed up and taken root. Unfortunately, our abundant conversations about morality are often too general in nature. And morality consists of specific things - of certain feelings, properties, concepts
One of these feelings is
sense of mercy The term is somewhat outdated, unpopular today and
even as if rejected by our life Something characteristic only of the former
sometimes “Sister of mercy”, “brother of mercy” - even the dictionary will give them
as “outdated”, that is, outdated concepts
Withdraw mercy -
means depriving a person of one of the most important effective manifestations
morality How did it happen that this feeling has become overgrown with us,
stalled, turned out to be neglected. I have to object, citing a lot
examples of touching responsiveness, condolences, true mercy. There are examples, and yet we feel, and have been for a long time, the decline of mercy in our
life If it were possible to make a sociological measurement of this
feelings
I'm sure the man
born with the ability to respond to someone else's pain I think it's
innate, given to us, along with instincts, with soul But if this feeling
not used, not exercised, it weakens and atrophies
- One day, one day, something bad happened to me. I was walking down the street, and accidentally slipped and fell, severely injuring myself. It was somewhere in the evening, in the city center, not far from my house.
He ran to the nearest entrance and tried to stop the bleeding with a handkerchief. But it was all to no avail. And the blood flowed out of my body faster and faster. And I couldn't say anything. My mouth was broken.
I decided to go home, along a familiar road. I was already covered in blood, which glistened on me. There were a lot of people on the street.
Many of them looked at me with contempt. I waited for help, but no one came.
Looking at them, I remember many of them.
The pain bothered me, but I walked, realizing that no one would help me.
Thinking about their behavior, I was angry and perplexed for a long time. But then, he began to remember himself.
And then I realized that I was no better than them: after all, just like them, I avoided and avoided such cases, trying not to get involved in different stories. It also became clear to me that people lack such a feeling as mercy. But, unfortunately, in our time this is not given to everyone. Even in science this word has been recognized as obsolete.
Why are people deprived of this feeling? After all, if he does not exist, then who will be called “Man”?
It seems that this feeling is deprived in childhood, without finding a worthy use for it.
Send
Cool
Link
Stammer
WRITE A CONCRETE SUMMARY URGENT Last year, something bad happened to me. I was walking down the street, slipped and fell. I fell badly, it couldn’t have been worse: my face hit the curb, I broke my nose, my whole face was broken, my arm jumped out of my shoulder. It happened at about seven o’clock in the evening. In the center. city, on Kirovsky Prospekt, not far from the house where I live. With great difficulty I got up - my face was covered in blood, my hand hung like a whip. I wandered into the nearest entrance, tried to calm the blood with a handkerchief. Where there, it continued to gush, I felt that I was holding on in a state of shock, the pain was rolling in It’s getting stronger and I need to do something quickly. And I can’t speak - my mouth is broken. I decided to turn back, home. I walked along the street, I think, without staggering; I walked holding a bloody handkerchief to my face, my coat was already shining with blood. I often remember this path - about three hundred meters. There were a lot of people on the street. A woman and a girl, some couple, an elderly woman, a man, young guys walked towards me, all of them at first with curiosity looked at me, and then averted their eyes, turned away. If only someone along this path would come up to me, ask what was wrong with me, if I needed help. I remembered the faces of many people, apparently with unaccountable attention, heightened expectation of help. The pain confused my consciousness, but I I understood that if I lay down on the sidewalk now, they would calmly step over me, walk around me. I need to get home. Later, I thought about this story. Could people take me for a drunk? It seems not, it’s unlikely that I made such an impression. But even if they did for being drunk They saw that I was covered in blood, something happened - I fell, hit myself - why didn’t they help, didn’t at least ask what was wrong? So, pass by, don’t get involved, don’t waste time, effort, “me this doesn’t concern” became a habitual feeling. Thinking, I remembered these people with bitterness, at first I was angry, accused, perplexed, indignant, but then I began to remember myself. And I looked for something similar in my behavior. It’s easy to reproach others when you are in a difficult situation, but I definitely need to remember myself. I can’t say that I had exactly such a case, but I discovered something similar in my own behavior - the desire to step away, evade, not get involved. And, having incriminated myself, I began to understand how habitual this feeling had become, how it has warmed up, taken root. Unfortunately, our abundant conversations about morality are often too general. And morality consists of specific things - of certain feelings, properties, concepts. One of these feelings is the feeling of mercy. The term is somewhat outdated, unpopular today and even seemingly rejected our life Something characteristic only of former times “Sister of mercy”, “brother of mercy” - even the dictionary will give them as “outdated”, that is, outdated concepts To take away mercy means to deprive a person of one of the most important effective manifestations of morality. How did it happen that this feeling we have overgrown, died out, turned out to be neglected. I should object, citing many examples of touching responsiveness, condolences, true mercy. There are examples, and yet we feel, and have been for a long time, the decline of mercy in our lives. If it were possible to make a sociological measurement of this feeling, I am sure that a person is born with the ability to respond to the pain of others. I think that this is innate, given to us, along with instincts, with the soul. But if this feeling is not used, not exercised, it weakens and atrophies
-Last year something bad happened to me: I fell, I fell badly. I broke my nose, my arm jumped out of my shoulder and hung like a whip. It happened at about seven in the evening in the center of Moscow, on Kirovsky Prospekt, not far from the house where I live.
With great difficulty I got up and made my way to the nearest entrance. I felt like I was holding on because I was in a state of shock and something urgently needed to be done. I tried to stop the bleeding with a handkerchief; The pain was getting stronger and stronger. And I couldn’t speak - my mouth was broken. "I decided to turn home. I walked, as it seems to me, without staggering. I remember this path about four hundred meters well. There were a lot of people. A couple passed by me, a woman with a girl, young guys. If only someone could help me They all looked at me with interest at first, but then looked away. I remembered the faces of many people, apparently with unaccountable attention, heightened expectation of help.
The pain confused my mind, but I understood that if I lay down on the sidewalk now, people would simply step over me. I understood that I had to get home. No one ever helped me.
Later I thought about this story. Could people mistake me for being drunk? Apparently not. But even if they accepted me, they saw that I was covered in blood, that something had happened to me - I fell, they hit me. Why didn't they ask if I needed help? This means that passing by, not getting involved, “this doesn’t concern me” has become a common feeling.
I remembered these people with bitterness, I was angry with them, but then I remembered about myself. I also had the desire to dodge and leave. Having caught myself in this, I realized how familiar this feeling has become in our lives.
I am not going to make public a complaint about the corruption of morals. But, however, the level of decline in our responsiveness gave me pause. No one is personally to blame. Apparent reasons Have not found.
Thinking, I remembered the hungry time at the front. Then there would be no one I failed past the wounded man. Whether from your unit or another, everyone helped, carried, bandaged. No one pretended that he didn't notice anything. Of course, someone violated this unspoken law, but there were deserters and crossbows. But we are not talking about individual people, but about the morals of that time.
I don’t know what needs to be done to achieve the necessary mutual understanding, but I am sure that only from a general understanding of the problem can some concrete solutions emerge. One person can only ring the alarm bell and ask everyone to think about what to do to make mercy warm our lives.
What do you see as the reasons for the “decrease in our responsiveness”?
It seems to me that the reason for the “decrease in our responsiveness” is that people think first of all about themselves, and only then about others. On the one hand, this is understandable. After all, life in our country has always been difficult, and recently it has become a real test for many, so people only think about how to benefit for themselves. But on the other hand, such a position is, of course, wrong, but it is impossible to quickly change what has been strengthened in people’s minds. Responsiveness must be taught from an early age, and then, if everyone treats passers-by kindly, everyone will help each other, and everyone will be happy.
nowhere: he broke his nose, his hand jumped out of his shoulder, and hung like a whip. It was about seven o'clock in the evening. In the city center, on Kirovsky Prospekt, not far from the house where I live.
With great difficulty he got up, wandered into the nearest entrance, and tried to calm the blood with a handkerchief. Where there, I felt that I was holding on in a state of shock, the pain was rolling in more and more and I needed to do something quickly. And I can’t speak - my mouth is broken.
I decided to turn back home.
I walked down the street, I think without staggering. I remember this path well, about four hundred meters. There were a lot of people on the street. A woman and a girl, some couple, an elderly woman, a man, young guys walked towards me, all of them at first looked at me with curiosity, and then averted their eyes, turned away. If only someone along this path would come up to me and ask what was wrong with me, if I needed help. I remembered the faces of many people, apparently with unconscious attention, heightened expectation of help...
The pain confused my consciousness, but I understood that if I lay down on the sidewalk now, they would calmly step over me and walk around me. We need to get home. So no one helped me.
Later I thought about this story. Could people mistake me for being drunk? It seems that no, it is unlikely that he made such an impression. But even if they took me for a drunk - they saw that I was covered in blood, something happened - I fell, they hit me - why didn’t they help, didn’t they at least ask what was the matter? So, “pass by, don’t get involved, don’t waste time, effort, it doesn’t concern me” has become a familiar feeling?
Remembering these people with bitterness, at first I was angry, accused, perplexed, then I began to remember myself. Something similar - a desire to step away, evade, not get involved - and her? I was. Incriminating himself, I realized how familiar this feeling had become in naked life, how it had warmed up and imperceptibly taken root.
I am not going to publicize yet another complaint about the deterioration of morals. The level of decline in our responsiveness, however, made us think twice. There is no one personally to blame. Who's to blame? I looked around and couldn’t find any visible reasons.
Thinking, I recalled the time at the front, when in the hungry trenches of life it was impossible to walk past him at the sight of a wounded man. From your part, from another - it was impossible for someone to turn away, pretend not to notice. They helped, carried, bandaged, gave a lift... Some people may have disturbed this life of front-line life, but there were deserters and crossbows. But we are not talking about them, we are now talking about the main clear rules of that time.
I don’t know the recipes for showing the mutual understanding we all need, but I am sure that only from our general understanding of the problem can some specific solutions emerge. One person - me, for example - can only ring this alarm bell and ask everyone to imbue it and think about what to do to make mercy warm our lives. (439 words) (According to D. A. Granin. From the essay “On Mercy”)
One day, one day, something bad happened to me. I was walking down the street, and accidentally slipped and fell, severely injuring myself. It was somewhere in the evening, in the city center, not far from my house.
He ran to the nearest entrance and tried to stop the bleeding with a handkerchief. But it was all to no avail. And the blood flowed out of my body faster and faster. And I couldn't say anything. My mouth was broken.
I decided to go home, along a familiar road. I was already covered in blood, which glistened on me. There were a lot of people on the street.
Many of them looked at me with contempt. I waited for help, but no one came.
Looking at them, I remember many of them.
The pain bothered me, but I walked, realizing that no one would help me.
Thinking about their behavior, I was angry and perplexed for a long time. But then, he began to remember himself.
And then I realized that I was no better than them: after all, just like them, I avoided and avoided such cases, trying not to get involved in different stories. Also, it became clear to me that people lack such a feeling as mercy. But, unfortunately, in our time this is not given to everyone. Even in science this word has been recognized as obsolete.
Why are people deprived of this feeling? After all, if he does not exist, then who will be called “Man”?
It seems that this feeling is deprived in childhood, without finding a worthy use for it.