De Foe's novels. Richardson's novels. Pope as a moralist. Sir Walter Scott. Nathaniel Hawthorne. Balzac's novels. De QuinceyPutnam, 1904 |
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Сторінка v
... virtue , and that without delusion or imposture , are preserved and reposed . - BACON , Advance- ment of Learning . We visit at the shrine , drink in some measure of the in- spiration , and cannot easily breathe in the other air less ...
... virtue , and that without delusion or imposture , are preserved and reposed . - BACON , Advance- ment of Learning . We visit at the shrine , drink in some measure of the in- spiration , and cannot easily breathe in the other air less ...
Сторінка ix
... virtue by vi whatever . All that he does and b of a book . - CARLYLE , Hero Worsing Yet it That here in memory of at yo Their sure foundations in the s L 2 That I should here assert their rights , assert Their Opinions of Authors ix.
... virtue by vi whatever . All that he does and b of a book . - CARLYLE , Hero Worsing Yet it That here in memory of at yo Their sure foundations in the s L 2 That I should here assert their rights , assert Their Opinions of Authors ix.
Сторінка 20
... is all that can be desired . She discourses about the im- portance of keeping to the paths of virtue with the most exemplary punctuality , though she does use . not find them convenient for her own personal 20 Hours in a Library.
... is all that can be desired . She discourses about the im- portance of keeping to the paths of virtue with the most exemplary punctuality , though she does use . not find them convenient for her own personal 20 Hours in a Library.
Сторінка 67
... virtues . Perhaps our grandchildren may have the same difficulty about the race which wears crinolines and chimney - pot hats . It is a fact , however , that our grandfathers , in spite of their belief in pigtails , and in Pope's ...
... virtues . Perhaps our grandchildren may have the same difficulty about the race which wears crinolines and chimney - pot hats . It is a fact , however , that our grandfathers , in spite of their belief in pigtails , and in Pope's ...
Сторінка 72
... virtue . But of Richardson's ends was e Coller Ciober . Mrs. Pilkington , Adventuress , faintly remembered Swift , descrices Ciccer's recep- mublished Cur sour eman it most cave . When I told SSI must be , he said G sasaud and that he ...
... virtue . But of Richardson's ends was e Coller Ciober . Mrs. Pilkington , Adventuress , faintly remembered Swift , descrices Ciccer's recep- mublished Cur sour eman it most cave . When I told SSI must be , he said G sasaud and that he ...
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De Foe's novels. Richardson's novels. Pope as a moralist. Sir Walter Scott ... Leslie Stephen Перегляд фрагмента - 1904 |
De Foe's novels. Richardson's novels. Pope as a moralist. Sir Walter Scott ... Leslie Stephen Перегляд фрагмента - 1904 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
actors admirable admit amusing artist Balzac Bargrave become Bradshaigh Bride of Lammermoor Carlyle century character charm Clarissa Colley Cibber commonplace confess critic death delicate described devil Dunciad effect elaborate English Englishman Eugénie Grandet example fact fancy fault feel fiction Foe's friends genius gentleman genuine give Goriot Hawthorne Hawthorne's hero human imagination interest John Bull kind King Lear lady less literary living Lovelace marvellous merits mind Miss Byron modern Moll Flanders moral narrative nature never novelist novels old Goriot Paris passion peculiar perhaps person poet poetical poetry Pope Pope's prose Quincey Quincey's readers reason recognise remark Richardson Robinson Crusoe romance Roxana says Scott seems sense sentiment Shakespeare Sir Charles Grandison society soul speak story strange sympathy tells things thought tion true truth villains virtue Waverley Novels whilst whole words writers
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 184 - 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 146 - Oh let me live my own, and die so too ! (To live and die is all I have to do) Maintain a poet's dignity and ease, And see what friends, and read what books I please: Above a patron, though I condescend Sometimes to call a minister my friend.
Сторінка 177 - 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 230 - 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 46 - 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 163 - 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 253 - 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 153 - 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.
Сторінка 256 - Where Angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.