The English Novel: A Study in the Development of PersonalityC. Scribner's sons, 1908 - 302 pages |
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Adam Bede Æschylus Amos Barton appears artistic aunt Aurora Leigh beauty beginning Blackwood's Magazine century Charlotte Brontë Chorus conception curious Daniel Deronda death democracy democratic Deukalion Deukalion and Pyrrha Dickens Dinah Morris earth Epimetheus experiment eyes fact fire George Eliot Greek growth Gwendolen Gwendolen Harleth hand heaven Hephæstus human idea imagination Jove King Arthur last lecture light literary living look Maggie man's Marian Evans matter mind modern mystery nature never novelist observe Pamela personality physical picture Plato poem poet poetic poetry present Prince Deukalion Prometheus Prometheus Unbound prose Pullet purely Pyrrha relation remember repentance republic Scenes of Clerical scientific seems Shakspere Shelley small-pox Socrates soul spirit story Tennyson Thackeray thee things Thomas Carlyle thou thought tion true Tulliver verse voice Whitman whole woman words writing Zola Zola's
Popular passages
Page 95 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Page 67 - Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly long'd for death. " Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not death, for which we pant ; More life, and fuller, that I want.
Page 79 - Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways 10 Made for our searching : yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits.
Page 102 - Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, And the bellowing of the savage sea Greeted their safe escape to me. I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.
Page 125 - I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.
Page 46 - If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, Compare them with the bettering of the time, And though they be outstripp'd by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, Exceeded by the height of happier men.
Page 61 - And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly doctor-like controlling skill, And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill.
Page 49 - Demons? fiery-hot to burst All barriers in her onward race For power. Let her know her place; She is the second, not the first. A higher hand must make her mild. If all be not in vain ; and guide Her footsteps, moving side by side With wisdom, like the younger child : For she is earthly of the mind, But Wisdom heavenly of the soul.
Page 287 - EACH AND ALL. LITTLE thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown Of thee from the hill-top looking down; The heifer that lows in the upland farm, Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, Deems not that great Napoleon Stops his horse, and lists with delight, Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height...
Page 104 - O'er mine own misery and thy vain revenge. Three thousand years of sleep-unsheltered hours, And moments aye divided by keen pangs Till they seemed years, torture and solitude, Scorn and despair, — these are mine empire: — More glorious far than that which thou surveyest From thine unenvied throne, O Mighty God!