California, Romantic and Beautiful: The History of Its Old Missions and of Its Indians; a Survey of Its Climate, Topography, Deserts, Mountains, Rivers, Valleys, Islands and Coast Line; a Description of Its Recreations and Festivals; a Review of Its Industries; an Account of Its Influence Upon Prophets, Poets, Artists and Architects; and Some Reference to what it Offers of Delight to the Automobilist, Traveller, Sportsman, Pleasure and Health Seeker

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Page, 1914 - California - 433 pages
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Page 114 - Day by day on wall and bastion beat the hollow, empty breeze, — Day by day the sunlight glittered on the vacant, smiling seas; Week by week the near hills whitened in their dusty leather cloaks, — Week by week the far hills darkened from the fringing plain of oaks ; Till the rains came, and...
Page 370 - Great are the symbols of being, but that which is symboled is greater; Vast the create and beheld, but vaster the inward creator; Back of the sound broods the silence, back of the gift stands the giving; Back of the hand that receives thrill the sensitive nerves of receiving.
Page 373 - ... the most tremendous, the most stupefying of alL is the passive phase of the White Silence. All movement ceases, the sky clears, the heavens are as brass; the slightest whisper seems sacrilege, and man becomes timid, affrighted at the sound of his own voice. Sole speck of life journeying across the ghostly wastes of a dead world, he trembles at his audacity, realizes that his is a maggot's life, nothing more. Strange thoughts arise unsummoned, and the mystery of all things strives for utterance....
Page 224 - Three months of camp life on Lake Tahoe would restore an Egyptian mummy to his pristine vigor, and give him an appetite like an alligator. I do not mean the oldest and driest mummies, of course, but the fresher ones. The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be? — it is the same the angels breathe.
Page 82 - ... gullies down which stones and snow are avalanched seemed hopelessly steep, besides being interrupted by vertical cliffs ; while the whole front was rendered still more terribly forbidding by the chill shadow and the gloomy blackness of the rocks. Descending the divide in a hesitating mood, I picked my way across the yawning chasm at the foot, and climbed out upon the glacier,, There were no meadows now to cheer with their brave colors, nor could I hear the dun-headed sparrows, whose cheery notes...
Page 373 - ... other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness — a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility.
Page 161 - This is the entrance to the great bay, and is the only water communication from the coast to the interior country. Approaching from the sea, the coast presents a bold outline. On the south, the bordering mountains come down in a narrow ridge of broken hills, terminating in a precipitous point, against which the sea breaks heavily. On the northern side, the mountain presents a bold promontory, rising in a few miles to two or three thousand feet.
Page 370 - FAIR are the flowers and the children, but their subtle suggestion is fairer; Rare is the roseburst of dawn, but the secret that clasps it is rarer; Sweet the exultance of song, but the strain that precedes it is sweeter; And never was poem yet writ, but the meaning outmastered the meter.
Page 60 - As sang the holy men of old, Of rock-built cities yet to be Along these shining shores of gold, Crowding athirst into the sea, What wondrous marvels might be told ! Enough, to know that empire here Shall burn her loftiest, brightest star ; Here art and eloquence shall reign, As o'er the...
Page 2 - That the lips of the blossom, more pure and meek. May offer it up to Him. Then sing in the hedgerow green, O thrush, O skylark, sing in the blue; Sing loud, sing clear, that the King may hear, And my soul shall sing with you ! — From "Songs of the Golden Cate.

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