Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 10, 2025
The leaf slept on the old trees that are scattered about that little valley; and amidst the soft and rich turf the wanderer's step disturbed the lizard, basking its brilliant hues in the noontide, and glancing rapidly through the herbage as it retreated. The scene, rife with its beautiful associations, recalled Godolphin from his reverie.
The first confession is singularly ingenuous and modest; the second, affecting. The passage about Cain is one of the sublimest in Dante. Truly wonderful and characteristic is the way in which he has made physical noise and violence express the anguish of the wanderer's mind. We are not to suppose, I conceive, that we see Cain. We know he has passed us, by his thunderous and headlong words.
For five years that faithfully-trimmed lamp told the whole countryside that Widow Stott was not forgetful of her own; and when once or twice rebuked by some of the Rehoboth deacons at the premium which she seemed to put on sin by thus inviting a wanderer's return, she always replied: 'Blame Him as mak's a woman so as hoo cornd forget her child.
Blinking into the stranger's eyes, he lost for a flash the first impression of youth, and received one of incredible age or sadness. But the wanderer's eyes were only quiet, very quiet, like the little pools in the wood where the wild does went to drink. As he turned within the door, smiling at Hyacinthe and shaking some snow from his cap, he did not seem to be more than sixteen or so.
She knew the Wanderer's footstep, but she neither moved her body nor turned her head. She felt that she grew paler than before, and she could hear her heart beating strongly. "I come from Israel Kafka," said the Wanderer, standing still before her. She knew from his tone how hard his face must be, and she would not look up. "What of him?" she asked in a voice without expression. "Is he well?"
Like a vision of glory, which, in the first hour of some poor wanderer's sleep, serves but to mock awhile his awakened mind with recollections of a happy past, so had the Indian summer shone on Nature's tired heart, and mocked, and passed away. The last red roseleaf had fluttered silently down; the last purple sloe had fallen from its sapless stem.
The most methodical of men, he has made a study of this important branch of a wanderer's service, and when he sets out on his journeys he carries with him everything that is essential both for himself and his horse, and packed in such a way as would be the despair of the deftest valet.
In that charge it is true that I, Olaf, fighting madly, as was my wont when roused, killed three of the Lesso folk with the Wanderer's sword. Still I see them falling one by one. Followed by six of my people, I sprang on to the raised prow of Steinar's ship. Just then the grapnels parted, and there we were left, defending ourselves as best we could.
I knew that mine was to be the wanderer's life, and that it is fatal for the wanderer to make ties and get attached to places or things or people; but in spite of this presentiment, I greedily drank in whilst I could all the truths which the desert breathes, and set my hands to do all the good work they could find, until they were full to overflowing.
"None, perhaps though pity might." "I want no pity, least of all from you. What I have done, I have done for you, and for you only." The Wanderer's face showed only a cold disgust. He said nothing. "You do not seem surprised," said Unorna. "You know that I love you?" "I know it."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking