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Updated: May 27, 2025
"We might manage it by giving the leader a lift, if we got so far," Batley suggested, pointing to the sharp slab. "That pike should help us; I think it would go." "You think it would go?" queried Nasmyth meaningly. "Aren't you mixing idioms? Pike's what we'd say round Wasdale, and your other expression's not uncommon in Switzerland." Batley laughed.
I looked a little farther on in the fiery group. Other forms of coal took the human face. I saw two. Whose were they? One was like unto my mother. How little I remember of her! and yet this was like my memory, sweetly gentle, loving past expression's power, no taint of earth therein. Another came up. I did not know it. Something whispered, "It is of you."
Fairest things know least despising; Foot and earth meet tenderly: 'Tis the woman, resting, rising Upward to sublimity, Rise the limbs, sedately sloping, Strong and gentle, full and free; Soft and slow, like certain hoping, Drawing nigh the broad firm knee. Up to speech! As up to roses Pants the life from leaf to flower, So each blending change discloses, Nearer still, expression's power.
I read aright The utterance that sealed thy sacred bond, 'T was listening to those accents of delight She hid upon his breast those eyes, beyond Expression's power to paint, all languishingly fond. "And you will positively leave us for London," said Lady Flora, tenderly, "and to-morrow too!"
I read aright The utterance that sealed thy sacred bond, 'T was listening to those accents of delight She hid upon his breast those eyes, beyond Expression's power to paint, all languishingly fond. "And you will positively leave us for London," said Lady Flora, tenderly, "and to-morrow too!"
Expression for expression's sake is a necessity of man's spiritual nature, in solitude no less than in society. To speak, to give utterance to the truth that he sees, and to the strong emotions that stir within his heart, is that highest energizing in which man finds his natural perfection and his rest.
"Here are idyls, epics, dramas of human life, written in words that thrill and burn.... Each is a poem that has an immortal flavor. They are fragments of the author's early dreams, too bright, too gorgeous, too full of the blood of rubies and the life of diamonds to be caught and held palpitating in expression's grasp." Boston Courier.
But it is far more fearful than even this, to look on one, who is bound to us by the nearest and most cherished ties with cheek yet glowing expression's flush mantling still and yet to doubt whether the intellect, which adorned that frame the jewel in the casket hath not for ever left its earthly tenement. The Vetturini. "Far other scene is Thrasymene now."
It was not such as masters of earth toil to paint. It was a living group that I saw. Four figures stood there. The first one was the face that I had just asked Chloe the semblance of. Loving past expression's power.
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