United States or Switzerland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


To Gracchus and myself essaying to divert her from thoughts that seemed to prey upon her very life, she said, 'Leave me to wrestle alone with my grief; it is the way to strength. I do not doubt that I shall find it. 'She is right, said Gracchus; 'to overcome she must fight her own battle. Our aid but ministers to her weakness.

"It is a moderately good portrait of an existing original," he said. "A woman's face then, I suppose? How very beautiful she must be!" "Actual beauty is sexless," he replied, and was silent. The expression of his face had become abstracted and dreamy, and he turned over the sketches for Mrs. Everard with an air which showed his thoughts to be far away from his occupation. "And the Death Angel?"

They raced along Aspenwell Common to the ford; shallow, to the chagrin of young Crossjay, between whom and themselves they left a fitting space for his rapture in leading his pony to splash up and down, lord of the stream. Swiftness of motion so strikes the blood on the brain that our thoughts are lightnings, the heart is master of them.

"Well, have it all to yourself, then," he said; and he rose and went indoors, and lighted the lamp, and she saw him get out the manuscript of his play, while she sat still, recalling the time when she had tried to dismiss him from her thoughts upon a theory of his unworthiness.

And yet, somehow, a flutter went through the company when we stood up together, as if everybody knew our thoughts. We had stood side by side on Sabbath mornings and had sung from the same book since childhood, with never a thought of embarrassment. It dawned on Springvale that day as a revelation what Marjie meant to me.

That's rank impertinence, I know; but after all, we are unbosoming our thoughts to each other to-day, and may as well speak openly. You said just now that it was his decision not to go on with the Parsons house. Did you disapprove of it?" "Yes, I disapproved of it," answered Selma with flashing eyes. "And what if I did?"

"These syllables that Nature spoke, And the thoughts that in him woke Can adequately utter none Save to his ear the wind-harp lone. Therein I hear the Parcae reel The threads of man at their humming wheel, The threads of life and power and pain, So sweet and mournful falls the strain.

Madam, that grief the better is sustain'd, That's for a loss that never yet was gain'd; You only lose a man that does not know How great the honour is which you bestow; Who dares not hope you love, or if he did, Your Greatness would his just return forbid; His humble thoughts durst ne'er to you aspire, At most he would presume but to admire; Or if it chanc'd he durst more daring prove, You still must languish and conceal your Love.

He raised his head and stared about him. The glaring lamp showed all the details of the room, and made it seem so real, so much more real than mere thoughts, let alone that of which one cannot think.

With the mention of his ancestral saint, the cavaliere's thoughts ran on to the Trenta chapel in the church of San Frediano, where they had all stood so lately together, Enrica blooming in health and beauty at his side. His sobs choked his voice. "Shall I send to Lucca for a doctor?" Trenta asked, as soon as he could compose himself. "As you please.