Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 23, 2025
A baby's a baby, and music's music the one can't take the place of the other." Roger looked a trifle taken aback. He held old-fashioned views and rather thought that all women regarded motherhood as a duty and privilege of existence.
"But the music's lovely," gasped little Miss Plummer, as if the fact made his claim ridiculous. "I've been humming it ever since." "I can't help that. I still stick to it that I wrote it." "You aren't George Bevan!" "I am!" "But " Miss Plummer's voice almost failed here "But I've been dancing to your music for years! I've got about fifty of your records on the Victrola at home." George blushed.
Burrow amain; Dig like a mole; Fill every vein With half-burned coal; Puff the keen dust about, And all to choke me out. Fill music's ways With creaking cries, That no loud praise May climb the skies; And on my laboring chest Lay mountains of unrest. My slumber steep In dreams of haste, That only sleep, No rest I taste With stiflings, rimes of rote, And fingers on the throat.
Munt, and tap surreptitiously when the tunes come of course, not so as to disturb the others or like Helen, who can see heroes and shipwrecks in the music's flood; or like Margaret, who can only see the music; or like Tibby, who is profoundly versed in counterpoint, and holds the full score open on his knee; or like their cousin, Fraulein Mosebach, who remembers all the time that Beethoven is echt Deutsch; or like Fraulein Mosebach's young man, who can remember nothing but Fraulein Mosebach: in any case, the passion of your life becomes more vivid, and you are bound to admit that such a noise is cheap at two shillings.
He only wanted to be let alone, so that he could listen to those strange, beautiful sounds that made a shiver of joy go down his back. Art had had her day; it was Music's turn. When the last number had been played, he turned to the queer lady: "Do they do it every night?" She smiled at his enthusiasm: "Wednesdays and Saturdays."
It was on the stereotyped memories of such communication that she depended, on the half hypnotic possession by the past; filling in vacancies with temperamental caprice or an emotion no longer the music's but her own.
Now they were passing along the first terrace; still the divisions were incessant down by the gate still the chanting continued, a dismal dissonance in the distance, a horrible discord near by. If it be true that the human voice is music's aptest instrument, it is also true that nothing vocalized in nature can excel it in the expression of diabolism.
It's clever, there's no denying that, and I hope the fact won't be allowed to tell against it: but the music's bright and lively; the songs are quaint and catching; the dialogue's brisk and not too witty; and there's plenty of business plenty of business in it.
"Where did you learn it?" he asked, for he had had two surprises that night. "Of my mother at St. Malo," she replied. "She was half English of Jersey. You are a naughty boy," she added, with a little gurgle of laughter in her throat. "You are not a good soldier to go a-chase of the French girls 'cross of the river." "Shure I am not a good soldier thin. Music's me game.
Hermas had often been carried on those "Tides of music's golden sea Setting toward eternity." But to-day his heart was a rock that stood motionless. The flood passed by and left him unmoved. Looking out from his place at the foot of the pillar, he saw a man standing far off in the lofty bema.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking