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I'm surprised that you are even wet. There, there, breathe naturally, child. The play-acting is unnecessary. I remember, when I was a young girl, traveling in India, there was a school of fakirs who leaped into deep wells and stayed down much longer than you, child, much longer indeed." "You knew!" Paula charged. "But you didn't know I did," her Aunt retorted.
Something that may be in Thoreau or Wordsworth, or in another poet whose songs "breathe of a new morning of a higher life though a definite beauty in Nature" or something that will show the birth of his ideal and hold out a background of revealed religion, as a perspective to his transcendent religion a counterpoise in his rebellion which we feel Channing or Dr.
The notes of the turtle-dove were deeper here than any where else; the hard oak, and the chaste laurel, and the whole exuberant family of trees, the earth, the water, every element of creation, seemed to have been compounded but for one object, and to breathe forth the fulness of its bliss.
A soulless sound, or a direful knell, to recall the remembrance of all he had lost. Such were his thoughts when the words of Thusa ha measg rung from Lady Mar's voice. Those were the strains which Halbert used to breathe from his heart to call Marion to her nightly slumbers-those were the strains with which that faithful servant had announced that she slept to wake no more!
"Sometimes, when he picks me up in his arms, I feel that he is going to squeeze the life out of me!" Her words were like a sharp thrust into his heart. For an instant they painted a vision for him, a picture of that slim and adorable creature crushed close in the great arms of St. Pierre, so close that she could not breathe.
Osborne put his fingers under his collar and pulled as though to breathe more freely; then he motioned another attendant to take the remaining prisoners away. "I see," said he. "He was too foxy to buy the thing himself. He sent someone else." Then he fixed his eye on the prisoner and continued: "We've got the bayonet on you; so you might as well tell us all about it."
And he remembered how Browning, the poet, had loved a woman who lay always in a shrouded room, too ill to look on the sunshine or breathe the wide airs of the world; and how he carried her away and took her to the peaks of the Apennines. The mere thought of such a change in a life was like a cry of joy. "What is it?" said Mrs.
As he peered forward, scarcely daring to breathe, he was conscious of the fact that the light had suddenly withered. It vanished from the refracting tunnel sides, as though wiped away by an obliterating black sponge. Even before the truth of the thing had come home to him, he heard the sound of a quietly closed door. Heeney had gone.
We breathe in the presence of embodied consciences, submitting, like our own, to an unseen inevitable will. It would be doing Signorelli injustice at Orvieto to study only these great panels. The details with which he has filled all the vacant spaces above the chapel stalls and round the doorway, throw new light upon his power.
"The foundation is there," was his verdict. "You have a good body, good muscles, but flabby a lady's muscles, not an opera singer's. And you are stiff not so stiff as when you first came here, but stiff for a professional. Ah, we must go at this scientifically, thoroughly." "You will teach me to breathe and how to produce my voice naturally?" "I will teach you nothing," replied he.
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