Ioläus: An Anthology of FriendshipEdward Carpenter Swan, Sonnenschein, 1906 - 234 стор. |
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Загальні терміни та фрази
Achilles affection Amile Amile's Amis and Amile arms attachment Augustine battle Beaumont beloved blood body Calmar Cesarion Cleomachus companions comrades comradeship custom dead dear dearer death desire devotion died Don Hast Don Karlos EDWARD CARPENTER Epaminondas eyes fair faithful feeling Fletcher flow my tears Frederick friendship Ganymede Greece Greek grief Harmodius Harmodius and Aristogeiton hath heart hero Hipparchus honour Ibid Iliad inspired Ioläus J. A. Symonds Jonathan Katte King kisses letter live love thee lover Ludwig mind miserable mortal nature never night noble Orestes and Pylades Orla passion Patroclus Pausanias Pelopidas Phædrus Plato pleasure Plutarch poems poets Pylades recognised Roderick Rodiya romantic sentiment Seytres sight Socrates sonnets soul speak spirit story sweet Symonds Symposium tender Thebans Theocritus thine things thou art thou hast thou shalt thought thy love trans true weep young youth
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Сторінка 111 - A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion ; A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women's fashion ; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth ; A man in hue, all ' hues ' in his controlling, Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.
Сторінка 112 - Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all "hues" in his controlling, Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth. And for a woman wert thou first created, Till Nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting And by addition me of thee defeated, By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure, Mine be thy love, and thy love's use their treasure.
Сторінка 109 - The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true : Cor ne edito, "Eat not the heart." Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase, those that want friends to open themselves unto are cannibals of their own hearts.
Сторінка 152 - Many will say it is a dream, and will not follow my inferences: but I confidently expect a time when there will be seen, running like a half-hid warp through all the myriad audible and visible worldly interests of America, threads of manly friendship, fond and loving, pure and sweet, strong and life-long, carried to degrees hitherto unknown...
Сторінка 111 - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day ? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd...
Сторінка 155 - I HEAR it was charged against me that I sought to destroy institutions, But really I am neither for nor against institutions, • (What indeed have I in common with them ? or what with the destruction of them ?) Only I will establish in the Mannahatta and in every city of these States inland and seaboard, And in the fields and woods, and above every keel little or large that dents the water, 563 Without edifices or rules or trustees or any argument, The institution of the dear love of comrades.
Сторінка 111 - But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest ; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade. When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see. So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Сторінка 143 - tis something; we may stand Where he in English earth is laid, And from his ashes may be made The violet of his native land.
Сторінка 116 - He that can love his friend with this noble ardour will in a competent degree affect all. Now if we can bring our affections to look beyond the body, and cast an eye upon the soul, we have found out the true object, not only of friendship, but charity : and the greatest...
Сторінка 153 - Publish my name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest lover, The friend, the lover's portrait, of whom his friend, his lover, was fondest, Who was not proud of his songs, but of the measureless ocean of love within him — and freely poured it forth...