Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: April 30, 2025
We know now that true beauty lies deeper than in the emission of "perfect tone." Beauty is truth and expressiveness. The new art of the singer should develop to the highest degree the significance of the text. Calvé once said that she did not become a real artist until she forgot that she had a beautiful voice and thought only of the proper expression the music demanded.
A young man by the name of Calve, was found dead, his skull split open, and a tomahawk, on the blade of which was written the word Calve, sticking in his brain. He was supposed to have fallen by the hand of his uncle.
When the cows calve, they hide their calves for a week or ten days in some retired situation, and go and suckle them two or three times a day. If any persons come near the calves they clap their heads close to the ground to hide themselves a proof of their native wildness. The dams allow no one to touch their young without attacking with impetuous ferocity.
Widely known are "Sans Toi," "Mignon," "Vos Yeux," "Say Yes," "Chanson de Ma Vie," "La Fermière," "Valse des Libellules," and many others. Her favourite poets are Victor Hugo and Ella Wheeler Wilcox, a rather strange mixture. Her only attempt in larger form is the operetta "Elle et Lui." She is a great friend of Mme. Calvé, who is especially fond of her songs.
We hire them on account of their dress clothes’! Think of the disillusion,” added Calvé, laughing, “and my disgust, when I thought of myself naïvely throwing kisses and flowers to a group of Swiss garçons at fifteen francs a head. There was nothing to do, however, but pay the bill and swallow my chagrin!” How many pretty women do you suppose would tell such a joke upon themselves?
Emma Calvé, a Spaniard, possessed of all a Spaniard's fire, thrills, bewilders, her hearers, though the more thoughtful among them wonder if they were not moved rather by her tremendous passionate force and powerful magnetism than by her vocal and histrionic art.
At eleven o’clock the clatter of hoofs in the court warned us that the pleasant evening had come to an end. A journalist en route for Paris was soon installed with me in the little omnibus that was to take us to the station, Calvé herself lighting our cigars and providing the wraps that were to keep out the cool night air.
Upton, one cold January morning, a great light of possibilities dawning upon her troubled soul, "don't you want to take me to the opera next Saturday? Calvé is to sing in 'Cavalleria, and I am very anxious to hear her again." "I am sorry, but I can't," Upton answered. "I have an engagement with Bliss at the club on Saturday. We're going to take lunch and finish up our billiard tournament.
Whether the curative and fertilizing virtues ascribed to the ashes of the Yule log, which are supposed to heal cattle as well as men, to enable cows to calve, and to promote the fruitfulness of the earth, may not be derived from the same ancient source, is a question which deserves to be considered.
"'She's just gone down to the big house for a pitcher of buttermilk; our cow won't calve these three weeks to come, and she gets a sup of kitchen for the childher till then; won't you take a sate, Art? but you had better have a care of yourself, for that stool wants a leg. "'I didn't care she was within, for I brought a sup of my own stuff in my pocket, said Art.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking