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Conceive a dell, deep-hollowed in forest secresy; it lies in dimness and mist: its turf is dank, its herbage pale and humid. A storm or an axe makes a wide gap amongst the oak-trees; the breeze sweeps in; the sun looks down; the sad, cold dell becomes a deep cup of lustre; high summer pours her blue glory and her golden light out of that beauteous sky, which till now the starved hollow never saw.
the long windows were frosted over; a crystal sparkle of starlight, here and there spangling this blanched winter veil, and breaking with scattered brilliance the paleness of its embroidery,
a great and new planet she was: but in what shape? I waited her rising.
never anything which astonished Hope and hushed Desire; which outstripped Impulse and paled Conception;
to bright, soft, sweet influences his eyes and lips gave bright, soft, sweet welcome, beautiful to see as dyes of rose and silver, pearl and purple, imbuing summer clouds;
vaporous with curtainings and veilings of muslin;
bed seemed to me like snow-drift and mist—spotless, soft, and gauzy.
refinement, delicacy, and perfect personal cultivation;
inward winter.
perhaps, one day his snow-sepulchre will open, spring's softness will return,
I muffled my head in my apron, and stopped my ears in terror of the torturing clang, sure to be followed by such blank silence, such barren vacuum for me.
our eyes and ears and their use remain with us, though the prospect of what pleases be wholly withdrawn, and the sound of what consoles be quite silenced.
my day rises when other people's
night sets in.
summer-day in her own person.
her kind kiss and cordial clasp
a clear and crimson splendour which quite dazzled me.
followed with his eye the gilded glance of Paulina's thimble; as if it had been some bright moth on the wing, or the golden head of some darting little yellow serpent.
respect improved into distinction.
Madame, in all things worldly, was in nothing weak;
calm and considerateness in her closest c...
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such associates as must cultivate and elevate, rather than those who might deteriorate and depress.
the few kind words scattered here and there—not thickly, as the diamonds were scattered in the valley of Sindbad, but sparely, as those gems lie in unfabled beds?
That goodly river on whose banks I had sojourned, of whose waves a few reviving drops had trickled to my lips, was bending to another course:
wept one sultry shower, heavy and brief.
oppugnant
She had different moods for different people.
may be sheer waste of time, and fruitless torture of feeling.
"Wondering at marvels of your own manufacture.
it quite sufficed to my mental tranquillity that I was known where it imported that known I should be; the rest sat on me easily: pedigree, social position, and recondite intellectual acquisition, occupied about the same space and place in my interests and thoughts; they were my third-class lodgers—to whom could be assigned only the small sitting-room and the little back bedroom: even if the dining and drawing-rooms stood empty, I never confessed it to them, as thinking minor accommodations better suited to their circumstances. The world, I soon learned, held a different estimate: and I make
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I would have praised him: I had plenty of praise in my heart; but, alas! no words on my lips. Who has words at the right moment?
For a little while, the blooming semblance of beauty may flourish round weakness; but it cannot bear a blast: it soon fades, even in serenest sunshine.
it was now about three months since Dr. John had spoken to me—a lapse of which he was not even conscious.
He wanted always to give me a role not mine. Nature and I opposed him.
Not that it behoved or beseemed me to say anything: but one can occasionally look the opinion it is forbidden to embody in words.
he gleaned up every stray look; I don't think he lost one:
I look on them as things rootless and perishable; their likeness to life makes me sad.
The morning light playing amongst our plants and laughing on our walls, caught an added lustre from M. Paul's all-benignant salute.
Silence is of different kinds, and breathes different meanings;
he was naturally a little man of unreasonable moods.
his mind was indeed my library, and whenever it was opened to me, I entered bliss.
my own last appeal, the guide to which I looked, and the teacher which I owned, must always be the Bible itself, rather than any sect, of whatever name or nation.
For man's good was little done; for God's glory, less.
God is not with Rome, and, were human sorrows still for the Son of God, would he not mourn over her cruelties and ambitions, as once he mourned over the crimes and woes of doomed Jerusalem!
