Tales of My Native Town |
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Africana Anna appeared arms arose asked beast beautiful began beneath Binchi-Banche blood body breath Brevetta camel Candia Carletto Chieti church Ciavola colour covered cried crowd Don Antonio Brattella Don Giovanni Ussorio Don Pasquale Donna Cristina door Duke ears eyes face fell filled flames forehead Gabriele D'Annunzio gave gestures Giacobbe Giovanni Peruzzini grew hair hands head heard JOSEPH HERGESHEIMER L'Ummalido laughed leaning legs light lips listened little by little loggia looked Mansueto Mastro Peppe Mazzagrogna mouth Mungia native neck Ofena Ortona Passacantando passed Pelagia Pescara Pescarese province of Teramo remained Ristabilito river Rosa rose Saint Apollinare Saint Pantaleone Schiavona seemed seized shone shook shouting Sicoli silence silver skin smile soul street stretched suddenly tion took trees trembled Turlendana turned turtle Vallelonga Verdura Violetta Kutufa voice walked wind wine woman women wounded Zacchiele
Popular passages
Page 67 - ... himself, described with prolixity all the clandestine operations, helping on the account with gestures and lively interjections. His little leathery figure contracted and extended in the action. " At last Ferrante's son died of a shot in the back from Joachim Murat's soldiers, at night on the shore. " The third husband was Titino Passacantando, who died in his bed of the bad disease. The fourth's alive. It's Verdura, a good man that don't water his wine. You'll see, sir.
Page 178 - They are millions to my one! But oh what have they done to you, white-faced millions mewed and mangled in the mills of man? What have they done to you, what have they done to you, what is this awful aspect of man?
Page 131 - Don Consolo, terrified by the din, had taken refuge in a stall behind the altar. A handful of fanatics, led by Giacobbe, made their way into the principal chapel, forced the bronze grille, and went into the underground chamber where the bust of the saint was kept. Three lamps, fed with olive oil, burned softly in the damp air of the sacristy, where in a glass case the Christian idol glittered, with its white head surrounded by a broad gilt halo; and the walls were hidden under the wealth of native...
Page viii - Gabriele D'Annunzio is the special and peculiar product of modern Italy. No other country, no other history, would have given birth to a genius made up of such contending and utterly opposed qualities: it is exactly as if all the small principalities that were Italy before the...
Page xv - Tales and stories exist as a source of pleasure, but men take their pleasures with a difference; and for any who are moved by the heroic spectacle of humanity pinned by fatality to earth but forever struggling for release "Tales of My Native Town" must have a deep significance.
Page 279 - All of her positions, all of her words, all of her glances were observed and commented upon with superstition. And the legend of her sanctity began to flower.
Page 64 - Three, as you see, Donna Rosa — a monkey, an ass, and a camel.
Page xvi - Yet, in him, it is troubled by modern apprehensions, a social conscience unavoidable now to any fineness of perception.
Page xvi - American as they are Italian; the crimes and beggars and misery of Pescara, the problems and hopes of one, belong to the other; the bonds of need and sympathy are complete.
Page 138 - And the calm odour of incense arose above the conflict. The silver idol had not yet reached the glory of the altar, because the hostile forces, encircling the altar, had prevented it.