The Novels and Tales of Robert Louis Stevenson, 15 tomasC. Scribner's sons, 1895 |
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
The Novels and Tales of Robert Louis Stevenson, 15 tomas Robert Louis Stevenson,Lloyd Osbourne,William Ernest Henley Visos knygos peržiūra - 1895 |
The Novels and Tales of Robert Louis Stevenson ... Robert Louis Stevenson Visos knygos peržiūra - 1895 |
The Novels and Tales of Robert Louis Stevenson ... Robert Louis Stevenson Visos knygos peržiūra - 1897 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Alick AMATEUR EMIGRANT American Anstruther Wester Arethusa artist began CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Calistoga cañon Cellardyke Châtillon-sur-Loire colour Commissary companion dark Devonian door emigrant English face Fair Isle fancy fellow forest gentleman gone green hand Hanson heard heart heaven hills hour human Indian Joe Strong Kelmar Lake County land lantern least live look Mexican mind Monterey morning Mount Saint Helena mountain Napa Valley nature neighbour never night once passed passengers perhaps pines plain platform pleasant pleasure poor road round Rufe scarce scene Schramberger second cabin seemed seen ship side Silverado SILVERADO SQUATTERS stand steerage stood story strange street suppose talk taste thing thought tion Toano told Toll House town train trees turn UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA valley voice whole wind woods word young
Populiarios ištraukos
298 psl. - To be honest, to be kind to earn a little and to spend a little less/ to make upon the whole a family happier for his presence,' to renounce when that shall be necessary and not be embittered, to keep a few friends but these without capitulation above all, on the same grim condition, to keep friends with himself here is a task for all that a man has of fortitude and delicacy.
305 psl. - The smoke ascends In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires Shine, and are changed. In the valley Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun, Closing his benediction, Sinks, and the darkening air Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night Night with her train of stars And her great gift of sleep. So be my passing! My task accomplished and the long day done, My wages taken, and in my heart Some late lark singing, Let me be gathered to the quiet west, The sundown splendid and serene, Death.
244 psl. - In each we miss the personal poetry, the enchanted atmosphere, that rainbow work of fancy that clothes what is naked and seems to ennoble what is base...
237 psl. - It is said that a poet has died young in the breast of the most stolid. It may be contended, rather, that this (somewhat minor) bard in almost every case survives, and is the spice of life to his possessor. Justice is not done to the versatility and the unplumbed childishness of man's imagination. His life from without may seem but a rude mound of mud ; there will be some golden chamber at the heart of it, in which he dwells delighted...
286 psl. - ... for a virtue and none where it is not branded for a vice; and we look in our experience, and find no vital congruity in the wisest rules, but at the best a municipal fitness. It is not strange if we are tempted to despair of good. We ask too much. Our religions and moralities have been trimmed...
289 psl. - What a monstrous spectre is this man, the disease of the agglutinated dust, lifting alternate feet or lying drugged with slumber; killing, feeding, growing, bringing forth small copies of himself; grown upon with hair like grass, fitted with eyes that move and glitter in his face; a thing to set children screaming; and yet, looked at nearlier, known as his fellows know him, how surprising are his attributes!
287 psl. - This stuff, when not purified by the lustration of fire, rots uncleanly into something we call life ; seized through all its atoms with a pediculous malady ; swelling in tumours that become independent, sometimes even (by an abhorrent prodigy) locomotory ; one splitting into millions, millions cohering into one, as the malady proceeds through varying stages. This vital putrescence of the dust, used as we are to it, yet strikes us with occasional disgust, and the profusion of worms in a piece of ancient...
287 psl. - Consideration dares not dwell upon this view; that way madness lies; science carries us into zones of speculation, where there is no habitable city for the mind of man. But take the Kosmos with a grosser faith, as our senses give it us. We behold space sown with rotatory islands, suns and worlds and the shards and wrecks of systems: some, like the sun, still blazing; some rotting, like the earth; others, like the moon, stable in desolation. All of these we take to be made of something we call matter...
304 psl. - A late lark twitters from the quiet skies; And from the west, Where the sun, his day's work ended, Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, grey city An influence luminous and serene, A shining peace. " The smoke ascends In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires Shine, and are changed. In the valley Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun, Closing his benediction, Sinks, and the darkening air Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night...
289 psl. - Poor soul, here for so little, cast among so many hardships, filled with desires so incommensurate and so inconsistent, savagely surrounded, savagely descended, irremediably condemned to prey upon his fellow lives: who should have blamed him had he been of a piece with his destiny and a being merely barbarous?