Nineteenth Century LettersByron Johnson Rees C. Scribners Sons, 1919 - 543 頁 |
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affectionate beautiful believe bless BOULGE breakfast called Carlyle Charles CHARLES DICKENS Coleridge COMBE FLOREY dear Sir dearest delightful DICKENS dine dinner Edward Lear England English eyes fancy feel GEORGE MEREDITH give glad gone half hand happy head hear heard heart hope hour John JOHN KEATS Keats kind lady Lamb lecture letter live London look Lord Lord Byron mean mind Miss months morning mother never night perhaps pleasure poems poet poor Pray pretty remember ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON S. T. COLERIDGE seems seen sincere Skiddaw sort speak spirits suppose sure SYDNEY SMITH talk tell Thackeray thank things THOMAS CARLYLE thought tion to-day to-morrow told W. E. HENLEY walk week whole wife WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wish word Wordsworth write written wrote yesterday
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第 185 頁 - 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.
第 193 頁 - I have been hovering for some time between an exquisite sense of the luxurious and a love for Philosophy — were I calculated for the former I should be glad — but as I am not I shall turn all my soul to the latter.
第 201 頁 - ... not lose all interest in human affairs — that the solitary indifference I feel for applause even from the finest spirits, will not blunt any acuteness of vision I may have. I do not think it will. I feel assured I should write from the mere yearning and fondness I have for the Beautiful even if my night's labours should be burnt every morning, and no eye ever shine upon them.
第 507 頁 - 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.
第 189 頁 - 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.
第 197 頁 - 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 since Boyhood.
第 83 頁 - 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...
第 423 頁 - 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.
第 22 頁 - 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...
第 296 頁 - The Church, like the Ark of Noah, is worth saving: not for the sake of the unclean beasts that almost filled it, and probably made most noise and clamour in it, but for the little corner of rationality, that was as much distressed by the stink within, as by the tempest without.