United States or Tanzania ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
With strange sincerity and directness the poet tells us how his spirit grew and learned the burden of its melancholy, yet scintillating song: From childhood's hour I have not been As others were, I have not seen As others saw, I could not bring My passions from a common spring.
We could see quite plainly into the room, and its occupant could see into ours. This was a small young man with a pale face. So much I remember of him; and the fact that the sight of prominent dark eyes and a runaway chin always recalls to me this episode in my childhood's career, inclines me to believe that that conformation of features was his.
Some familiar kind not in favor with the fruit critics, an old variety that has become a dear memory of boyhood, may be the best one of all for him perhaps for the reason that it recalls the loved faces that gathered about the wide, quaint fireplace of his childhood's home. It is also a well-recognized fact that certain varieties of fruit appear to be peculiarly adapted to certain localities.
They must love one another more. Disinterested good will make the world as it should be." His last visit to his native valley was in the autumn of 1845. In a familiar letter to a friend, he thus describes his farewell view of the mountain glories of his childhood's home:
It could only be compared to those imaginary edifices of which we have all read in childhood's happy days in taking text, under an attractive picture: "The castle of M. de Valmont was agreeably situated at the summit of a pretty hill."
For his London mind, guided by reason, acted in a logical plane of two dimensions, while imagination, captained by childhood's fairy longings, cantered loose in all directions at once impossibly. The first was the world; the second was the universe. As yet, he was unable to co-ordinate them. Minks, he was certain, could and did, sailing therefore upon an even keel.
Whatever threatened in the immediate future, she determined to meet it with as much composure as she could summon. Nobody but Sheila Macklin knew wholly what she had endured since leaving her childhood's home. When Tunis Latham had come so dramatically into her life she had been almost at the limit of her endurance. To him, even, she had not confessed all her miseries.
We must believe that he was always true to himself, and that the subjection which he rendered to Joseph and Mary sprang from a real sense of childhood's dependence, and was not a show of obedience for any edifying end however high. That question "Did not you know?" is the only hint we possess of Jesus' inner life before John's call to repentance rang through the land.
Marie saw the softened expression of the Queen's face; the ineffectual effort to resist her child's caresses, and retain her sternness: and, with a sudden impulse, she threw herself at her feet. "Oh! do not turn from me, my Sovereign!" she implored, wildly clasping Isabella's knees. "I ask nothing nothing, but to return to my childhood's home, and die there!
"So happy are we in our childhood's first years, Neither sorrow nor sin is our mead; We play, and there's nought in our path to raise fears That it straight into prison doth lead. Right many there are that with voice sorrowful Must oft for lost happiness long. To make the time pass in this prison so dull, I now will write down all my song.
Word Of The Day