The Atlantic Monthly, Volum 26 |
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American answered appearance asked beautiful become believe better brought called character close comes course Dickens door doubt English eyes face fact father Fechter feel feet felt followed gave give half hand head hear heard heart hope human hundred interest Italy Joseph keep kind lady least leave less light live look Lucy mean ment miles mind morning nature nearly never night once passed perhaps person Philip poor present question reached rest round seemed seen sense ship side sort speak story sure tell things thought tion told took turned walked whole woman young
Passatges populars
Pāgina 243 - Biron they call him ; but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal : His eye begets occasion for his wit ; For every object that the one doth catch, The other turns to a mirth-moving jest...
Pāgina 566 - Horatio ; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy ; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.
Pāgina 135 - Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence.
Pāgina 560 - Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
Pāgina 259 - Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss Though winning near the goal— yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Pāgina 227 - Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho...
Pāgina 113 - THE blessed damozel leaned out From the gold bar of Heaven; Her eyes were deeper than the depth Of waters stilled at even; She had three lilies in her hand, And the stars in her hair were seven. Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, No wrought flowers did adorn, But a white rose of Mary's gift, For service meetly worn; Her hair that lay along her back Was yellow like ripe corn.
Pāgina 559 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.
Pāgina 542 - Can that which is unsavoury be eaten without salt? or is there any taste in the white of an egg?
Pāgina 559 - Doubt thou the stars are fire ; Doubt that the sun doth move ; Doubt truth to be a liar ; But never doubt I love.
Informaciķ bibliogrāfica
| Títol | The Atlantic Monthly, Volum 26 The Atlantic Monthly |
| Colˇlaborador | John Davis Batchelder Collection (Library of Congress) |
| Editor | Atlantic Monthly Company, 1870 |
| Original de | Universitat de Harvard |
| Digitalitzat el | 14 Marį 2007 |
| Exporta citacions | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |