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There has not been one but many a Petrarch, who, failing to have his love requited, has been obliged to drag through life as if his feet were either fettered or carried a leaden weight, and give vent to his sighs in a lonely forest; nevertheless there was only one Petrarch who possessed the true poetic instinct, so that Goethe's beautiful lines are true of him: "Und wenn der Mensch in seiner Quaal verstummt, Gab mir ein Gott, zu sagen, wie ich leide."
Art, gentlemen, is nourished upon inequalities and injustices!" "Wie kann man so etwas sagen!" It may be well that justice should be established, even though art perish. I simply state a fact!" See what plutocracy already makes of art!" Here one of the Germans insisted on a hearing; a fine fellow, with Samsonic locks and a ringing voice.
The second morning the waiter who took his order recognized him and asked, "Wie gestern?" and from this he argued an affectionate constancy in the Berliners, and a hospitable observance of the tastes of strangers.
But Marston has rendered the song into music of the richest harmony and fullest pathos. He is right, also, because he has interpreted the undercurrent of the story. Bodenstedt's ubiquitous lyric, "Wenn der Frühling auf die Berge steigt," which rivals "Du bist wie eine Blume" in the favor of composers, has gathered Marston also into its net.
Es will sich ernahren Kinder zeugen, und die nahren so gut es vermag. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Weiter bringt es kein Mensch, stell' er sich wie er auch will." In physiological language this means, that all the multifarious and complicated activities of man are comprehensible under three categories.
Magnificent Lilli Lehmann might make a certain effect in Götterdämmerung so long as she had a leg to stand on or a note to croak, but an adequate delivery of Der Nussbaum or Wie Melodien demands a vocal control which a singer past middle age is not always sure of possessing.... After a long retirement, Mme. Sembrich gave a concert at Carnegie Hall, November 21, 1915.
There was nothing about the place or its occupants to remind one of America. This dim, smoky, cake-scented cafe was Germany. "Time!" said Blackie. "Here comes Rosie to take our order. You can take your choice of coffee or chocolate. That's as fancy as they get here." An expansive blond girl paused at our table smiling a broad welcome at Blackie. "Wie geht's, Roschen?" he greeted her.
No. 532 gives a quotation from Sterne, “Ich habe mein Elend nicht wie ein weiser Mann benutzt,” which Loeper says he has been unable to find in any of Sterne’s works. It is, however, in a letter to John Hall Stevenson, written probably in August, 1761. The translation here is inexact.
Ye see, wie the murrder it's been impossible tae get ony work done; apairt fay that we've been busy wie the fruit and ether things." "I didn't notice any weeds," said Gimblet. "But I won't keep you any longer, now. Perhaps to-morrow afternoon I may see you in the garden, and if so I shall get you to tell me the name of that rose."
When they bring the bill they ask, Wie viel brodchen? that is, how many rolls have you devoured? And you have to pay for every little roll. The women are beautiful and elegant. Indeed, everything is diabolically elegant. I have not quite forgotten German. I understand, and am understood. When we crossed the frontier it was snowing. In Vienna there is no snow, but it is cold all the same.
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