The Wings of the Dove, Volume 19

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Scribner's, 1909
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Page 222 - ... dressed; a face almost livid in hue, yet handsome in sadness and crowned with a mass of hair, rolled back and high, that must, before fading with time, have had a family resemblance to her own. The lady in question, at all events, with her slightly Michael-angelesque squareness, her eyes of other days, her full lips, her long neck, her recorded jewels, her brocaded and wasted reds, was a very great personage — only unaccompanied by a joy. And she was dead, dead, dead. Milly recognised her exactly...
Page 126 - For she now saw that the great thing she had brought away was precisely a conviction that the future wasn't to exist for her princess in the form of any sharp or simple release from the human predicament. It wouldn't be for her a question of a flying leap and thereby of a quick escape. It would be a question of taking full in the face the whole assault of life...
Page xvii - There is no economy of treatment without an adopted, a related point of view, and though I understand, under certain degrees of pressure, a represented community of vision between several parties to the action when it makes for concentration, I understand no breaking-up of the register, no sacrifice of the recording consistency, that doesn't rather scatter and weaken. In this truth resides the secret of the discriminated occasion — that aspect of the subject which we have our noted choice of treating...
Page vi - The idea, reduced to its essence, is that a of young person conscious of a great capacity for life, but early stricken and doomed, condemned to die under short respite, while also enamoured of the world ; aware moreover of the condemnation and passionately desiring to
Page xxi - s notable that immediately after, at the first possible moment, we surrender again to our major convenience, as it happens to be at the time, that of our drawing breath through the young woman's lungs. Once more, in other words, before we know it, Densher's direct vision of the scene at Lancaster Gate is replaced by her apprehension, her contributive assimilation, of his experience : it melts back into that accumulation, which we have been, as it were, saving up. Does my apparent deviation here count...
Page vii - This circumstance, true enough, might disqualify it for many activities — even though we should have imputed to it the unsurpassable activity of passionate, of inspired resistance. This last fact was the real issue, for the way grew straight from the moment one recognised that the poet essentially can't be concerned with the act of dying. Let him deal with the sickest of the sick, it is still by the act of living that they appeal to him, and appeal the more as the conditions plot against them and...
Page ix - She was the last fine flower— blooming alone for the fullest attestation of her freedom— of an old New York stem, the happy congruities thus preserved being matters that I may not now go into, although the fine association . . . shall yet elsewhere await me I do not know anywhere words more touching And I do not think that, in spite of the later obscuration, the image of the Milly Theale of that book was ever very far away from his thoughts.
Page 237 - ... simply by his genius — and found out, she meant, literally everything. Now she knew not only that she did n't dislike this — the state of being found out about; but that on the contrary it was truly what she had come for, and that for the time at least it would give her something firm to stand on. She struck herself as aware, aware as she had never been, of really not having had from the beginning anything firm. It would be strange for the firmness to come, after all, from her learning in...
Page 29 - She saw as she had never seen before how material things spoke to her. She saw, and she blushed to see, that if in contrast with some of its old aspects life now affected her as a dress successfully "done up," this was exactly by reason of the trimmings and lace, was a matter of ribbons and silk and velvet.
Page 49 - Commons, he was loose for the army. He was refined, as might have been said, for the city, and quite apart from the cut of his cloth, he was sceptical, it might have been felt, for the church. On the other hand he was credulous for diplomacy, or perhaps even for science, while he was perhaps at the same time too much in his mere senses for poetry, and yet too little in them for art. You would have got fairly near him by making out in his eyes the potential recognition of ideas; but you would have...

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