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'Tis far from flying evil and pain, what the sages say, that of actions equally good, a man should most covet to perform that wherein there is greater labour and pain. "Non est enim hilaritate, nec lascivia, nec risu, aut joco comite levitatis, sed saepe etiam tristes firmitate et constantia sunt beati."
You know tristes twang, twang, twang, aouh, hoo! Chroo, yah!" Schomberg uplifted his hands in distress. This tribute seemed to flatter Ricardo. His mouth twitched grimly. "Like that enough to give colic to an ostrich, eh? Awful. Well, there was a cook there who loved me an old fat, Negro woman with spectacles.
"Mind you have a man from the farm to sleep in the house every night. It would be well for him to have the gun loaded, only take care the children don't get at it. My health is still tolerably good, sufficiently so for me to get easily through what I have to do." But the next news was far from being so satisfactory. "J'ai des nouvelles de West Lodge qui sont vraiment tristes.
There was another, "Dans les ombres des fôrets tristes", which I thought quite as beautiful. They were fine songs; very individual, and each had that spontaneity which makes a song seem inevitable and, once for all, "done." The accompaniments were difficult, but not unnecessarily so; they were free from fatuous ingenuity and fine writing.
Early in the morning of the second day after the coming of Victoria's letter, the two men started in Nevill's yellow car, the merry-eyed chauffeur charmed at the prospect of a journey worth doing. He was tired, he remarked to Stephen, "de tous ces petits voyages d'une demi-heure, comme les tristes promenades des enfants, sans une seule aventure."
"Les journées sont exquises, tristes et pâles, également différentes des crudités de nos idées et des ténèbres de l'hiver. L'imagination a vite fait de s'envoler,
The man who shaped not only the deliberately infantine "Ma Mère l'Oye," but also things as quiveringly simple and expressive and songful as "Oiseaux tristes," as "Sainte," as "Le Gibet," or the "Sonatine," as the passacaglia of the Trio or the vocal interlude in "Daphnis et Chloé," has a pureness of feeling that we have lost.
On sait que la tristesse annonce le genie; Nous avons deja fait des progres etonnans, Que de tristes ecrits que de tristes romans! Des plus noires horreurs nous sommes idolatres, Et la melancolie a gagne nos theatres." "What!" cried I, "are you so well acquainted with my favourite book?" "Your's!" exclaimed Vincent.
In the garden of earthly existence, some are ordained to bloom as human plantae tristes, shedding their delicate aroma like the "Pretty-by-nights", only when the glory of the day is done, and twilight shadows coax open their pure hearts.
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