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Updated: June 4, 2025
Their costume and language are strictly Quaker, which was most becoming to Mrs. Gurney's sweet, placid face. . . . Louis Napoleon's election seems fixed, and is to me one of the most astounding things of the age. When we passed several days with him at Mr. Bates's, I would not have given two straws for his chance of a future career.
A person of more character and determination might have succeeded, in spite of the long years of mental self-indulgence, so might a person more ready to take advice. But at forty, as I have said, she felt she was beyond advice, so she would not notice Miss Gurney's hints. She chose to despise her numberings and brackets, though she was half-envious of them.
Hanslick has but shown what music is not; Edmund Gurney's eloquent book, "The Power of Sound," is completely agnostic in its conclusion that music is a unique, indefinable, indescribable phenomenon, which possesses, indeed, certain analogues with other physical and psychical facts, but is coextensive with none.
"My views, Miss Hartley," said I, "are in all essentials identical with your own and Gurney's and, if you think fit, you may tell him so." "Oh, thank you, Mr Troubridge!" exclaimed my companion. "I will certainly do so, for I am sure that he will be glad to hear it. Of course you understand that this conversation of ours was intended to be private? You will not mention to others what ?"
<1> F. Weinmann, Zeitschr. f. Psychol., Bd. 35, p. 360. It is from this point of view that we can see the cogency of Gurney's remark, that when music seems to be yearning for unutterable things, it is really yearning only for the next note.
Come, explain yourself!" "I will, Mr Troubridge, in half a jiffy, as soon as I've got the feel of Gurney's grip out of my throat," answered the man. "It's like this, sir. I've been on this here island long enough to see that Wilde's ideas won't work.
On April 29 the roar of cannon was heard once more at Gurney's Station, salvo after salvo following in quick succession, until the house shook and the windows rattled with the reverberations. The crash of musketry succeeded, rapid and continuous, and before the sun was high wounded men were brought in to the shelter of Mr. Yerby's outhouses.
In the same way, having read Gurney's "Phantasms of the Living," I am not ready to ridicule the claim of the Yogi adepts, that they are able to project some kind of astral body, and to communicate with one another from distant places. But granting such occult powers in a world of economic strife, what follows?
This, omitting many technical details, and much that is matter of more dispute than common, is a statement, rough, and as popular as possible, of the ideas expressed in Mr. Gurney's remarkable essay on hallucinations. Here, then, we have a rude working notion of various ways in which hallucinations may be produced.
She looked tired and a little dispirited and for she was of that rare type in which weariness does not dim, but rather qualifies and differentiates its beauty quite as lovely as he had ever seen her. The query which gave him his clue to her special and immediate interest was: "Why is Haslett leaving The Patriot?" Haslett was the Chicago critic transplanted to take Gurney's place. "Is he?
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