Nineteenth Century Letters

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Byron Johnson Rees
C. Scribners Sons, 1919 - American letters - 543 pages

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Page 188 - Every man has his speculations, but every man does not brood and peacock over them till he makes a false coinage and deceives himself.
Page 185 - ON THE SEA It keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand Caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound. Often 'tis in such gentle temper found, That scarcely will the very smallest shell Be moved for days from where it sometime fell, When last the winds of Heaven were unbound.
Page 507 - I won the toss, sir, and Hades went off once more discomfited. This is not the first time, nor will it be the last, that I have a friendly game with that gentleman.
Page 189 - Its touches of beauty should never be half-way, thereby making the reader breathless, instead of content. The rise, the progress, the setting of Imagery should, like the sun, come natural to him, shine over him, and set soberly, although in magnificence, leaving him in the luxury of twilight. But it is easier to think what poetry should be, than to write it. And this leads me to Another axiom — That if poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree, it had better not come at all.
Page 197 - Is it not extraordinary? When among Men I have no evil thoughts, no malice, no spleen — I feel free to speak or to be silent — I can listen and from every one I can learn — my hands are in my pockets I am free from all suspicion and comfortable. When I am among Women I have evil thoughts, malice spleen — I cannot speak or be silent — I am full of Suspicions and therefore listen to nothing — I am in a hurry to be gone — You must be charitable and put all this perversity to my being disappointed...
Page 83 - Town, the watchmen, drunken scenes, rattles, — life awake, if you awake, at all hours of the night, the impossibility of being dull in Fleet Street, the crowds, the very dirt and mud, the sun shining upon houses and pavements, the...
Page 83 - I was born, the furniture which has been before my eyes all my life, a bookcase which has followed me about, like a faithful dog (only exceeding him in knowledge), wherever I have moved ; old chairs, old tables, streets, squares, where I have sunned myself, my old school— these are my mistresses — have I not enough without your mountains 7 I do not envy you.
Page 198 - I could say a good deal about this, but I will leave it, in hopes of better and more worthy dispositions — and also content that I am wronging no one, for after all I do think better of Womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.
Page 423 - Twas one of the charmed days When the genius of God doth flow, The wind may alter twenty ways, A tempest cannot blow: It may blow north, it still is warm; Or south, it still is clear; Or east, it smells like a clover farm; Or west, no thunder fear.
Page 22 - I saw Tennyson, when I was in London, several times. He is decidedly the first of our living poets, and I hope will live to give the world still better things. You will be pleased to hear that he expressed in the strongest terms his gratitude to my writings. To this I was far from indifferent, though persuaded that he is not much in sympathy with what I should myself most value in my attempts, viz., the spirituality with which I have endeavoured to invest the material universe, and the moral relations...

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