Without PrejudiceCentury Company, 1899 - 384 pages |
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Expressions et termes fréquents
æsthetic artist Barry Pain beautiful better Bohemia born Broadstairs Charles Lamb civilisation colour comic Consciousness cried critic dead English ethics feel French friends gambling genius George Eliot ghosts give happy hero House human humour Hungary idea imagine inspiration instinct Jack of Diamonds jokes ladies less literary literature live London look marriage ment mind modern moral nation nature ness never night novelist novels once Ouida paint papers perhaps person Planchette play poem poet poetry politics poor prose publisher Ramsgate round Sarah Grand seems sense Shakespeare Society soul spirit steal jokes story street Sub-Consciousness sure table-turning theatre things thou thought tion to-day town trees true truth turn unborn universe Venice Ventnor Verlaine verse voice W. S. Gilbert wonderful write Young Fogey
Fréquemment cités
Page 17 - A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness — Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Page 166 - Her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, That one might almost say her body thought.
Page 212 - ... or work of the artist's hands, or the face of one's friend. Not to discriminate every moment some passionate attitude in those about us, and in the very brilliancy of their gifts some tragic dividing of forces on their ways, is, on this short day of frost and sun, to sleep before evening.
Page 57 - How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said, Curse on all laws but those which love has made! Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies...
Page 44 - True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance. 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, The sound must seem an echo to the sense...
Page 45 - There is no dew on the dry grass to-night, Nor damp within the shadow of the trees ; The wind is intermitting, dry, and light; And in the inconstant motion of the breeze The dust and straws are driven up and down, And whirled about the pavement of the town Within the surface of the fleeting river The wrinkled image of the city lay, Immovably unquiet, and for ever It trembles, but it never fades away ; Go to the [ ] You, being changed, will find it then as now.
Page 250 - I had nothing else to tell; unless, indeed, I were to confess (which might be of less moment still), that no one can ever believe this Narrative, in the reading, more than I believed it in the writing.
Page 305 - And one, an English home— gray twilight pour'd On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleep — all things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.
Page 180 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.
Page 212 - It is on the quality of the matter it informs or controls, its compass, its variety, its alliance to great ends, or the depth of the note of revolt, or the largeness of hope in it, that the greatness of literary art depends, as The Divine Comedy, Paradise Lost, Les Miserable*, The English Bible, are great art.