What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
American answered appearance asked beautiful become believe better brought called character close comes course Dickens door doubt English eyes face fact father Fechter feel feet felt followed gave give half hand head hear heard heart hope human hundred interest Italy Joseph keep kind lady least leave less light live look Lucy mean ment miles mind morning nature nearly never night once passed perhaps person Philip poor present question reached rest round seemed seen sense ship side sort speak story sure tell things thought tion told took turned walked whole woman young
Page 243 - Biron they call him ; but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal : His eye begets occasion for his wit ; For every object that the one doth catch, The other turns to a mirth-moving jest...
Page 135 - Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence.
Page 560 - Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
Page 259 - Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss Though winning near the goal— yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Page 227 - Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho...
Page 113 - THE blessed damozel leaned out From the gold bar of Heaven; Her eyes were deeper than the depth Of waters stilled at even; She had three lilies in her hand, And the stars in her hair were seven. Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, No wrought flowers did adorn, But a white rose of Mary's gift, For service meetly worn; Her hair that lay along her back Was yellow like ripe corn.
Page 559 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.
Page 542 - Can that which is unsavoury be eaten without salt? or is there any taste in the white of an egg?