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What then was wanting? Unfortunately everything was wanting. He cared not for music, or animals, or, in recent years, for the chase. He himself divulged the secret, in words uttered to Gallois in the days of his power: "Je n'aime pas beaucoup les femmes, ni le jeu enfin rien: je suis tout
The turbaned one, whose name was Sheykh Huseyn, was called on to refresh his chieftain's memory with regard to various details of the house and property and all the feudal rights and privileges appertaining thereunto. He did so, as in duty bound, but in a very mournful tone. His son explained: Tu fiens habiter, nous defons quitter. Mon bère n'aime bas quitter.
It's a darling room, though that horrid creature, Captain Strong, did arrange it. Are you eprise of him? He says you are, but I know better; it is the beau cousin. Yes il a de beaux yeux. Je n'aime pas les blonds, ordinairement.
"Your strangers can be much kinder to you than I have been." "Never! I wish they did not exist! What do I care for them? What do they care for me? They do not know me; I shall shock them. I miss you, I hate them, already. Non! Personne ne m'aime, et je n'aime personne!" she exclaimed, with low-toned vehemence. "Rite," began Mr. Raleigh. "Rite! No one but my mother ever called me that.
The Duc came out as the pure Legitimist, though he said his own party had not a shadow of a chance; that the Emperor had been going down ever since the fatal Italian campaign; that there were no Orleanists in France, and that the Duc d'Aumale was conspiring against the Comte de Paris, &c. &c. a tissue of absurdity. 'Tres conservative dans mes principes, je n'aime pas les princes.
Ne regarde pas la figure, Jeune fille, regarde le coeur. Le coeur d'un beau jeune homme est souvent difforme. Il y a des coeurs ou l'amour ne se conserve pas. Jeune fille, le sapin n'est pas beau, N'est pas beau comme le peuplier, Mais il garde son feuillage l'hiver. Helas! a quoi bon dire cela? Ce qui n'est pas beau a tort d'etre; La beaute n'aime que la beaute, Avril tourne le dos a Janvier.
and the hero of the tale, a young French poet, who is in London, is truly unhappy in that village. Arthur desseche et meurt. Dans la ville de Sterne, Rien qu'en voyant le peuple il a le mal de mer Il n'aime ni le Parc, gai comme une citerne, Ni le tir au pigeon, ni le soda-water. Liston ne le fait plus sourciller!
It is the secondary and indirect character of the love of seclusion to which Chamfort alludes in the following passage, couched in his sarcastic vein: On dit quelquefois d'un homme qui vit seul, il n'aime pas la société. You will find a similar sentiment expressed by the Persian poet Sadi, in his Garden of Roses.
To Goethe he now said that in art, as in politics, there should be rule and ordered beauty; apropos of the drama imitated from Shakspere, which mingles tragedy and comedy, the terrible with the burlesque, he expressed surprise that a great mind like Goethe's did not like clean-cut models "N'aime pas les genres tranchés."
Monsieur Tagliabue, who sat on the other side of Mrs T, found that the turkey was in request it was some time before he could help himself. "C'est superbe?" said Monsieur, thrusting a truffle into his mouth. "Apparemment, madame, n'aime pas la cuisine Anglaise?" "Ve," replied Mrs Turnbull. "Madame, what will you be hassisted to?" continued Mrs T. "Tout de bon, madame."
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