Pastels in Prose

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Stuart Merrill
Harper & Brothers, 1890 - Authors, French - 268 pages
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Page 53 - The Queen tries to answer. Sobs prevent her from speaking. " Do not weep, Madame la reine; you forget that I am the Dauphin, and that Dauphins cannot die in this way.
Page 224 - Raising the book, she read with much emphasis : " Thou pursuest after wisdom, O Melampus ! which is the science of the will of the gods ; and thou roamest from people to people, like a mortal driven by the destinies. In the times when I kept my night-watches before the caverns, I have sometimes believed that I was about to surprise the...
Page 158 - Cease from tempting my desires and my pride ! The study of the beautiful is a duel in which the artist cries out with terror before he is vanquished.
Page 55 - Monsieur 1'Abbe; but one thing consoles me, and that is that up there, in the Paradise of the stars, I shall still be the Dauphin. I know that the good God is my cousin, and cannot fail to treat me according to my rank.
Page 81 - The young girl who works all day in her solitary chamber is moved to tenderness if she hears of a sudden the sound of a jade flute. And she imagines that she hears the voice of a young boy. Through the paper of the windows the shadow of the orangeleaves enters and sits on her knees; And she imagines that somebody has torn her silken dress.
Page i - ... of verse had put them on their honor, as it were, and bound them to brevity, to simplicity; as if they felt the responsibility they were under to be even more laconic, more delicate, more refined than they might have been in openly confessing the laws of prosody.
Page 59 - Monsieur the sous-Prefet, delighted with the silence and the coolness of the wood, lifts his coat-tails, deposits his cocked hat on the grass, and sits in the moss at the foot of a young oak. Then he opens on his knees his great portfolio of embossed shagreen, and takes from it a large sheet of official foolscap. " He is an artist," says a warbler. "No," says a bullfinch, "he is not an artist, since he wears silver breeches ; he is rather a prince.
Page 181 - By alone, I mean without a material being, and my cat is a mystical companion, a spirit. I...
Page 195 - Wine; there is no gold, pale gold or dusky gold, that gives out the tawny fulguration of the word Gold; there is no perfume that our deceived nostrils find equal to the word Perfume; no blue, no red that figures the tints with which our imaginations are colored; all is too little for the word All; and no nothingness is an empty enough vacuity as to be that arch-terrorist word Nothing.

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