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Updated: June 24, 2025
The Amadis class, the late Renaissance pastorals, the immediately preceding or accompanying French romances of the Scudéry type, were, in increasing degree, hybrid, artificial, and dead-alive. Impotence and sterility in every sense could but be its portion.
But now the lodgers began to look at each other, and then all eyes were turned at once on Mlle. Michonneau, a thin, shriveled, dead-alive, mummy-like figure, crouching by the stove; her eyes were downcast, as if she feared that the green eye-shade could not shut out the expression of those faces from her. This figure and the feeling of repulsion she had so long excited were explained all at once.
"I wonder if I dare go there to see him? What a dead-alive hole!" Not until then did Dorise recollect that the girl had not given her Hugh's address. She had, perhaps, purposely withheld it. This fact she told Hugh's friend, who replied over the wire: "Well, it is highly satisfactory news, in any case. We can only wait, Miss Ranscomb. But this must relieve your mind, I feel sure."
It's a symbol? I call it a tomfoolery for the dead-alive to wear it, that's a widow and not a widow, and haven't got a name for what she is in any Dixonary, I've looked, my dear, and" she spread out her arms "Johnson haven't got a name for me!" At this impressive woe Mrs. Berry's voice quavered into sobs. Lucy spoke gentle words to the poor outcast from Johnson.
I believe she's the daughter of an old broken-down Catholic marquise one of the weedy sort who lives at Troyes, or some such dead-alive hole as that. Her mother tried to make her take the veil, and hasn't succeeded." "She prefers the motor-veil, it appears," I laughed. "But that isn't the story she's told me."
"I'm not even his representative. Do try to make him understand that." "It doesn't in the least matter who you are," said Dr. O'Grady. "Listen to the speech." "When I first set eyes on this town a month ago I thought I had bumped up against a most dead-alive, god-forsaken, one-horse settlement that Europe could boast."
To rank its creator with the abounding masters of the past is an absurdity. In their efforts to escape from the dead-alive art of the salon picture, Monet and the Impressionists took an entirely different course. The gallery painter's perfunctory treatment of subject bored them, and they abandoned subject almost as entirely as Whistler had done.
Omer. There you indeed appreciate the dead-alive city 'in all its quiddity. But a few days in a 'dead-alive' city, were it the most picturesque in the world, would be intolerable. By noon, when the sun has grown oppressively hot, I find myself set down at a sort of rural town, once flourishing, and of some importance Bethune.
Extreme BUSYNESS, whether at school or college, kirk or market, is a symptom of deficient vitality; and a faculty for idleness implies a catholic appetite and a strong sense of personal identity. There is a sort of dead-alive, hackneyed people about, who are scarcely conscious of living except in the exercise of some conventional occupation.
When I first peeped in at the gate of the lifeless quadrangle, and started from the mouldering statue becoming visible to me like its guardian ghost; when I stole round by the back of the farm-house, and got in among the ancient rooms, many of them with their floors and ceilings falling, the beams and rafters hanging dangerously down, the plaster dropping as I trod, the oaken panels stripped away, the windows half walled up, half broken; when I discovered a gallery commanding the old kitchen, and looked down between balustrades upon a massive old table and benches, fearing to see I know not what dead-alive creatures come in and seat themselves, and look up with I know not what dreadful eyes, or lack of eyes, at me; when all over the house I was awed by gaps and chinks where the sky stared sorrowfully at me, where the birds passed, and the ivy rustled, and the stains of winter weather blotched the rotten floors; when down at the bottom of dark pits of staircase, into which the stairs had sunk, green leaves trembled, butterflies fluttered, and bees hummed in and out through the broken door-ways; when encircling the whole ruin were sweet scents, and sights of fresh green growth, and ever-renewing life, that I had never dreamed of, I say, when I passed into such clouded perception of these things as my dark soul could compass, what did I know then of Hoghton Towers?
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