Відгуки відвідувачів - Написати рецензію
Не знайдено жодних рецензій.
Інші видання - Показати все
able admirable admit appearance artist Balzac become believe called cause century certain character characteristic charm Clarissa comes course critic death described doubt effect elaborate English equal example expressed fact fancy feel Foe's force friends genuine give given hand Hawthorne heart hero human imagination interest kind lady language least leave less letters literary living look means merits mind Miss moral nature never novelist novels object once pass passion perhaps person poetical poetry poor Pope Pope's position present probably produced question Quincey readers reason remark respect Richardson says Scott seems sense sentiment short simply Sir Charles society soul speak spirit story strange sufferings tells things thought tion true truth turn virtue whole women writers
Сторінка 182 - FATHER of all ! in every age, In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! Thou great First Cause, least understood, Who all my sense confined To know but this, that Thou art good, And that myself am blind...
Сторінка 175 - Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher, Death; and God adore. What future bliss, He gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never Is, but always To Be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Сторінка viii - Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book ; he hath not eat paper, as it were ; he hath not drunk ink : his intellect is not replenished ; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts...
Сторінка 228 - No author, without a trial, can conceive of the difficulty of writing a romance about a country where there is no shadow, no antiquity, no mystery, no picturesque and gloomy wrong, nor anything but a commonplace prosperity, in broad and simple daylight, as is happily the case with my dear native land.
Сторінка 44 - I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress : My God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, And from the noisome pestilence.
Сторінка 161 - On painted ceilings you devoutly stare, Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre, On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie, And bring all Paradise before your eye. To rest, the cushion and soft Dean invite, Who never mentions hell to ears polite.
Сторінка 251 - The book, if you would see anything in it, requires to be read in the clear, brown, twilight atmosphere in which it was written; if opened in the sunshine, it is apt to look exceedingly like a volume of blank pages.
Сторінка 151 - Heaven descends, and dance on earth : Gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage, and mirth, A fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball, Till one wide conflagration swallows all.