Pen and Ink: Papers on Subjects of More Or Less ImportanceLongmans, Green, 1888 - 229 psl. |
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Pen and Ink– Papers on Subjects of More Or Less Importance Brander Matthews Visos knygos peržiūra - 1888 |
Pen and Ink– Papers on Subjects of More Or Less Importance Brander Matthews Visos knygos peržiūra - 1894 |
Pen and Ink– Papers on Subjects of More Or Less Importance Brander Matthews Visos knygos peržiūra - 1888 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Ambitious Guest Ameri American anecdote artist Austin Dobson Autonoë ballade Battle better Bonnie Blue Flag borrowed called cards century chance charming chips comic compression confess critic declare doubt drama dramatist Draw Poker Écarté England English essay Euchre exact fact fiction Four Aces France French Gleek hand Hawthorne heart humor ingenuity invention jack-pot Jest-Book John Brown's Body joke ladies laughing literature Locker London Lyrics Lord Lowell luck magazines Marching through Georgia Maryland merry ness never New-York Novel novelist once original Pen and Ink perhaps phrase plagiarism playing Poker Poe's poems poet Poker player Post-and-pair Praed Preface Proctor prose reader Shakspere Sing song spirit Star-spangled Banner story sung tale tell Théodore de Banville Théophile Gautier thing tion told tune vers de société verse Whist wholly words writer of Short-stories written wrote
Populiarios ištraukos
38 psl. - Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light: But, oh ! she dances such a way— No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.
220 psl. - I behold like a Spanish great galleon and an English man-of-war. Master Coleridge, like the former, was built far higher in learning, solid, but slow in his performances. CVL, with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.
121 psl. - There is place and enough for the pains of prose; — But whenever a soft glance softer grows, And the light hours dance to the trysting-time, And the secret is told "that no one knows,
101 psl. - What colour were the eyes when bright and waking ? And were your ringlets fair, or brown, or black, Poor little Head ! that long has done with aching ? It may have held (to shoot some random shots) Thy brains, Eliza Fry! or Baron Byron's; The wits of Nelly Gwynne, or Doctor Watts,— Two quoted bards.
81 psl. - He combines in a very remarkable manner two faculties which are seldom found united; a power of influencing the mind of the reader by the impalpable shadows of mystery, and a minuteness of detail which does not leave a pin or a button unnoticed.
24 psl. - But there is, I fear, a prosaic set growing up among us, editors of booklets, book-worms, index-hunters, or men of great memories and no imagination, who impute themselves to the poet, and so believe that he, too, has no imagination, but is for ever poking his nose between the pages of some old volume in order to see what he can appropriate. They will not allow one to say ' Ring the bell ' without finding that we have taken it from Sir P. Sidney, or even to use such a simple .expression as the ocean...
160 psl. - We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more, From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore; We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear, With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear; We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before: We are coming; Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!
113 psl. - SEASONS. When Spring comes laughing By vale and hill, By wind-flower walking And daffodil,— Sing stars of morning, Sing morning skies, Sing blue of speedwell, And my Love's eyes. When comes the Summer, Full-leaved and strong, And gay birds gossip The orchard long,— Sing hid, sweet honey That no bee sips; Sing red, red roses, And my Love's lips.
100 psl. - PICCADILLY ! Shops, palaces, bustle, and breeze; The whirring of wheels, and the murmur of trees ; By night or by day, whether noisy or stilly, Whatever my mood is, I love Piccadilly. Wet nights, when the gas on the pavement is streaming, And young Love is watching, and old Love is dreaming, And Beauty is whirling to conquest, where shrilly Cremona makes nimble thy toes, Piccadilly! Bright days, when...