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It is a good thing I learned German in my youth, for even if it is so rusty at present that I can only say things like Nicht wahr, I can understand everything, and I'm sure I'll get along very nicely for at least a week on the few words that somehow have stuck in my memory. I've discovered they are: Nicht wahr, Wundervoll, Naturlich, Herrlich, Ich gratuliere, and Doch.
No one was with him but Christian Hennemann, who sang in a loud voice, "Spinn doch, spinn doch, mihn lutt lewes Dochting!" Napoleon passed seven days of indescribable mental anguish at Fontainebleau. Adversity had befallen him, but he bore it with the semblance of calmness, uttering no complaint.
Parting notes were written from on board to all the most beloved; to little Paulina, of bright hopes, to Miss Neill of her cross; to Arthur the German greeting, 'Lebe wohl, doch nicht auf Ewigkeit, to Mr. Justice Coleridge: 'March 28, 1855. 'My dear Uncle, One line more to thank you for all your love and to pray for the blessing of God upon you and yours now and for ever. 'We sail to-day.
Please to write! 'Und sterb'ich doch, no sterb'ich denn Durch sie durch sie! "That's German from Schiller. 'And if I die, at least I die for thee for thee! Here it is clear that you are apostrophizing the cause of your disaster, the chicken. Write! He has committed an ignoratio elenchi that is to say, he has understood the words of your proposition, but not the idea. The man was a fool, you see.
"Zum Heil den Sundigen zu fuhren, Die Gottgesandte nahte mir: Doch ach! sie frevelnd zu beruhren Hob ich den Lasterblick zu ihr! O! du, hoch uber diesen Erdengrunden, Die mir den Engel meines Heil's gesandt: Erbarm' dich mein, der ach! so tief in Sunden Schmachvoll des Himmels Mittlerin verkannt!"
Do not isolate yourself. Be among men, and among things, and among troubles, and difficulties, and obstacles. You remember Goethe's words: Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille, Doch ein Character in dem Strom der Welt. "Talent develops itself in solitude; character in the stream of life."
And athirst for love, something of a grievance to Fricka. "Ehr ich die Frauen doch mehr als dich freut," "I honour women more than pleases you," he retorts to her reproach of contempt for woman's love and worth, evidenced in his light ceding of Freia. He calls himself and all call him a god, adding "eternal" even when the gods' end is glaringly at hand.
He indicates a whole sad history in a single quatrain; there is not an image in it, not a thought; but it is beautiful, simple, and perfect as a “big round tear”—it is pure feeling, breathed in pure music: “Anfangs wollt’ ich fast verzagen Und ich glaubt’ ich trug es nie, Und ich hab’ es doch getragen— Aber fragt mich nur nicht, wie.”
The marriage service still reads: "He shall be your ruler, and you shall be his vassal." The women are not only patient with all that requires patience of the men, but they are patient with the men besides, a heavy additional burden from the American point of view. Beethoven writes: "Resignation! Welch' elendes Hülfsmittel! Und doch bleibt es mir das einzige übrige."
"Devilish serious, I assure you, and so they found it; for the Chevalier and I " "Then I don't like it at all," said Bucklaw; "so fill a brimmer of my auld auntie's claret, rest her heart! And, as the Hielandman says, Skioch doch na skiall." "That was what tough old Sir Even Dhu used to say to me when I was out with the metall'd lads in 1689.
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