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It is to be observed, however, that in the ordering of our thoughts and images we must always look to those qualities which in each thing are good, so that we may be determined to action always by an emotion of joy.
There is only one more thing I must ask you. 'What is it? 'Why did you not die with the others? And living, how have you not grown old? Is your flesh so different from mine? 'No, Kalus. It's very much the same. She felt weak and tearful, but also a strange determination to see it through. An unusual emotion for her: direct rebellion against despair.
And, after she had heard the scene, she observed that there is no proof more certain of the truth of poetic description, than its recurring to us at the time we strongly feel. "Those who tell us," continued she, "that it is unnatural to recollect poetry or eloquence at times of powerful emotion, are much mistaken; they have not strong feelings or strong imaginations.
Out of this field of personal life, with all of its emotions, processes, and experiences, fiction arbitrarily selects one emotion, one process, one experience, mainly of one sex. The "love" of our stories is man's love of woman. If any dare dispute this, and say it treats equally of woman's love for man, I answer, "Then why do the stories stop at marriage?"
How long, how long!" he murmured, smothering his emotion, but looking now at her, now at the little German doll clutched tightly in his hand. After a while a feeling of great peace came upon him. His mission was ended; he had found her at last. His longing heart had reached its haven. "That's the doll my mother loved best," said Hélène, without pausing in her playing.
Not a sign nor an accent of emotion, nothing, while she was describing the suicide of her first husband she did not even seem to imagine that she had a crime on her conscience. She remained pitiless, and yet, a moment ago, when she was commiserating him because of his fictitious parenthood, he had thought she was trembling. "After all, perhaps she is acting a part like myself."
"My friend, Damat Zade, expressed the warmest gratitude to me. 'You formerly saved my fortune; you have now saved my life, and a life yet dearer than my own: that of my daughter Fatima. "At the sound of that name I could not, I believe, avoid showing some emotion.
The mob in Edinburgh which raged against her was checked in its fierceness and subdued to pity at sight of the wretched lady in her despair, at that awful moment when she appeared at the window of the Provost's lodging in the High Street, and made her wild appeal, in all the force of impassioned and terrible emotion, to the overawed and excited crowd.
Moreover, the deep voice of the narrator was much gentler than one would have expected, after looking at the broad-shouldered, heavy figure, and there lay in his suppressed, and often whispered tones a secret charm, which the children were not the only ones to feel; besides which his eyes produced their share of the profound impression, for every emotion that disturbed his easily-excited soul found a reflection therein.
Every sentence did but increase the fever of my mind. Enoch himself perceived it, though he could not discover the cause. The orator indeed produced no emotion in him, but that was not wonderful. The effect was quite as good as he expected! He had never, I believe, been entertained at a sermon in his life; not even at his own.
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