Books and Their Writers

Priekinis viršelis
G. Richards Limited, 1920 - 343 psl.
 

Ką žmonės sako - Rašyti recenziją

Neradome recenzijų įprastose vietose.

Pasirinkti puslapiai

Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską

Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės

Populiarios ištraukos

61 psl. - It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
85 psl. - HARK! hark, my soul; angelic songs are swelling O'er earth's green fields, and ocean's wavebeat shore : How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling Of that new life when sin shall be no more. Angels of Jesus, angels of light, Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night. 2 Onward we go, for still we hear them singing, 'Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come...
207 psl. - The expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action...
210 psl. - The streets were mine, the temple was mine, the people were mine, their clothes and gold and silver were mine as much as their sparkling eyes, fair skins and ruddy faces. The skies were mine, and so were the sun and moon and stars, and all the World was mine and I the only spectator and enjoyer of it.
246 psl. - Ah! no; a shepherd of a different stock, And far unlike him, feeds this little flock: A jovial youth, who thinks his Sunday's task As much as God or man can fairly ask; The rest he gives to loves and labours light. To fields the morning, and to feasts the night; None better...
141 psl. - Was there love once? I have forgotten her. Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine. O loved, living, dying, heroic soldier, All, all my joy, my grief, my love, are thine.
216 psl. - You will see Coleridge — he who sits obscure In the exceeding lustre and the pure Intense irradiation of a mind, Which, with its own internal lightning blind, Flags wearily through darkness and despair — A cloud-encircled meteor of the air, A hooded eagle among blinking owls.
296 psl. - Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the swallow, Swift as the swallow along the river's light Circleting the surface to meet his mirror'd winglets, Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight.
52 psl. - Oh! it is only a novel!" replies the young lady; while she lays down her book with affected indifference, or momentary shame. - "It is only Cecilia, or Camilla, or Belinda;" or, in short, only some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour are conveyed to the world in the best chosen language.
53 psl. - I could no more write a romance than an epic poem. I could not sit seriously down to write a serious romance under any other motive than to save my life...

Bibliografinė informacija