De QuinceyG. Bell and Sons, Limited, 1911 - 352 psl. |
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De Quincey– On Murder, Considered as One of the Fine Arts. the English Mail ... Thomas De Quincey Peržiūra negalima - 2014 |
De Quincey– On Murder, Considered as One of the Fine Arts. the English Mail ... Thomas De Quincey Peržiūra negalima - 2015 |
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admiration amongst Augustan History beauty Bishop of Beauvais Caesar called century character Charles Lamb child Coleridge Confessions criticism Cuzco darkness daughter death Domrémy dreadful dreams earth Edinburgh effect eloquence English essays expression eyes face fact fancy feelings genius gentlemen girl Grasmere grave heard heart heavens honour horse human intellectual interest Jeremy Taylor Kate lady Lamb laudanum Lebanon literary literature lived London look Lucretius ment mighty Mignonette Milton mind murder mysterious nature never night once opium opium-eater Oxford Oxford Street Paradise Lost passed passion perhaps period person philosopher pleasure poem poet poetry Quincey's reader rhetoric Roman Rome seemed sense Shakspere sister sleep solitude sorrow Street style sublime suddenly suffering suppose sympathy thee thing Thomas De Quincey thou thought tion Toad-in-the-hole truth vision whilst whole William Wordsworth word Wordsworth writing young
Populiarios ištraukos
29 psl. - That my pains had vanished, was now a trifle in my eyes : — this negative effect was swallowed up in the immensity of those positive effects which had opened before me — in the abyss of divine enjoyment thus suddenly revealed. Here was a panacea — a ^UMO-/ nviyStt for all human woes: here was the secret of happiness, about which philosophers had disputed for so many ages...
267 psl. - Vaucouleurs which celebrated in rapture the redemption of France. No! for her voice was then silent; no! for her feet were dust. Pure, innocent, noble-hearted girl! whom, from earliest youth, ever I believed in as full of truth and self-sacrifice, this was amongst the strongest pledges for thy...
82 psl. - I know not whether others share in my feelings on this point ; but I have often thought that if I were compelled to forego England, and to live in China, and among Chinese manners and modes of life and scenery, I should go mad.
35 psl. - Ideas ! my dear friend ! there is no occasion for them ; all that class of ideas which can be available in such a case has a language of representative feelings. But this is a subject foreign to my present purposes; it is sufficient to say that a chorus, etc., of elaborate harmony displayed before me, as in a piece of arras-work, the whole of my past life — not as if recalled by an act of memory, but as if present and incarnated in the music ; no longer painful to dwell upon, but the detail of...
80 psl. - The appearance, instantaneously disclosed, Was of a mighty City — boldly say A wilderness of building, sinking far And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth, Far sinking into splendour — without end ! Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold, With alabaster domes, and silver spires, And blazing terrace upon terrace, high Uplifted...
104 psl. - ... the reach of sight. She droops not; and her eyes, rising so high, might be hidden by distance. But, being what they are, they cannot be hidden ; through the treble veil of crape which she wears, the fierce light of a blazing misery, that rests not for matins or for vespers — for noon of day or for noon of night — for ebbing or for flowing tide — may be read from the very ground.
75 psl. - I seemed every night to descend, not metaphorically, but literally to descend, into chasms and sunless abysses, depths below depths, from which it seemed hopeless that I could ever reascend. Nor did I, by waking, feel that I had reascended.
72 psl. - Mr. Ricardo had deduced a priori from the understanding itself laws which first gave a ray of light into the unwieldy chaos of materials, and had constructed what had been but a collection of tentative discussions into a science of regular proportions, now first standing on an eternal basis.
184 psl. - O mighty poet! Thy works are not as those of other men, simply and merely great works of art, but are also like the phenomena of nature, like the sun and the sea, the stars and the flowers, like frost and snow, rain and dew, hail-storm and thunder, which are to be studied with entire submission of our own faculties, and in the perfect faith that in them there can be no too much or too little, nothing useless or inert, but that, the farther we press in our discoveries, the more we shall see proofs...
181 psl. - But this is wrong; for it is unreasonable to expect all men to be great artists, and born with the genius of Mr. Williams. Now it will be remembered that in the first of these murders (that of the Marrs), the same incident (of a knocking at the door, soon after the work of extermination was complete) did actually occur, which the genius of...