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able Affectionately American BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN beautiful become believe Buddhist charm child course Dear Chamberlain Dear Hendrick Dear McDonald Dear Nishida delightful dream dress emotional English everything evolution eyes fact faithfully fear feel foreign French geisha give glad gods hakama HALL CHAMBERLAIN Kobe happy hear Herbert Spencer hibachi hope idea imagine Izumo Japan Japanese Jesuit kakemono kamidana kind kiseru Kizuki Koizumi Kompira Kyoto Lafcadio Hearn least lectures letter literary literature live look Matsue matter means Mionoseki MITCHELL McDONALD Tokyo moral never perhaps pleasure poetry pretty queer race riences seems sensation SENTARO NISHIDA Setsu Shinto society sorry soul Spencer story strong suppose sure talk teach tell temple thanks things thought tion to-day told understand Western Wetmore wife wish woman wonderful words write Yabase Yokohama
Page 529 - THE night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done.
Page 527 - AIRLY BEACON. Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ; O the pleasant sight to see Shires and towns from Airly Beacon, While my love climbed up to me ! Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ; O the happy hours we lay Deep in fern on Airly Beacon, Courting through the summer's day ! Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ; O the weary haunt for me, All alone on Airly Beacon With his baby on my knee ! A BOAT-SONG.
Page 527 - Beacon, Airly Beacon ; Oh the pleasant sight to see Shires and towns from Airly Beacon, While my love climbed up to me ! Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ; Oh the happy hours we lay Deep in fern on Airly Beacon, Courting through the summer's day ! Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ; Oh the weary haunt for me, All alone on Airly Beacon, With his baby on my knee ! A FAREWELL.
Page 444 - One man, when he has done a service to another, is ready to set it down to his account as a favor conferred. Another is not ready to do this, but still in his own mind he thinks of the man as his debtor, and he knows what he has done. A third in a manner does not even know what he has done, but he is like a vine which has produced grapes, and seeks for nothing more after it has once produced its proper fruit.
Page 226 - It is even more at fault in respect to the emotions than in respect to the cognitions. The doctrine that all the desires, all the sentiments, are generated by the experiences of the individual, is so glaringly at variance with facts that I wonder how anyone should ever have entertained it.
Page 410 - My friends are much more dangerous than my enemies. These latter — with infinite subtlety — spin webs to keep me out of places where I hate to go, — and...
Page 406 - Day's Work" already. It is great — very great. Don't mistake him, even if he seems too colloquial at times. He is the greatest living English poet and English story-teller. Never in this world will I be able to write one page to compare with a page of his. He makes me feel so small, that after reading him I wonder why I am such an ass as to write at all. Love to you, all the same, for thinking of me in that connection. Term's over — all but a beastly "dinner.
Page 113 - HE stood on his head on the wild sea-shore, and joy was the cause of the act, for he felt as he never had felt before — insanely glad, in fact. And why ? In that vessel that left the bay, his mother-in-law had sailed to a tropical country, far away, where tigers and snakes prevailed.
Page 474 - Please do not think that I would dream of giving you any hurry-scurry trouble. But, perhaps in a year's time, something might offer itself. I am afraid of New York City for my boy's sake. I should not like to let him risk one New York winter. Besides, what exercise can a boy have in New York — no trees, fields, streams. Awful place — New York. If anything were to happen to him, the sun would go out. I can't take risks — must be sure what I am doing. . . . Oh, if I were by myself — yes: twenty...
Page 63 - Pretty to talk of my 'pen of fire.' I've lost it. Well, the fact is, it is no use here. There is n't any fire here. It is all soft, dreamy, quiet, pale, faint, gentle, hazy, vapory, visionary — a land where lotus is a common article of diet — and where there is scarcely any real summer. Even the seasons are feeble, ghostly things. Don't please imagine there are any tropics here. Ah! the tropics — they still pull at my heart-strings. Goodness! my real field was there...