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But if we return not from our adventure," ended Sir Mortimer, "if the sea claims us, and upon his sandy floor, amid his Armida gardens, the silver-singing mermaiden marvel at that wreckage which was once a tall ship and at those bone which once were animate,--if strange islands know our resting-place, sunk for evermore in huge and most unkindly forests,--if, being but pawns in a mighty game, we are lost or changed, happy, however, in that the white hand of our Queen hath touched us, giving thereby consecration to our else unworthiness,--if we find no gold, nor take one ship of Spain, nor any city treasure-stored,--if we suffer a myriad sort of sorrows and at the last we perish miserably--" - Mary Johnston, Sir Mortimer [1904] (ch. 1) On this wintry day, cold and sunny, the small town breathed hard in its excitement. It might have climbed rapidly from a lower land, so heightened now were its pulses, so light and rare the air it drank, so raised its mood, so wide, so very wide the opening prospect. Old red-brick houses, old box-planted gardens, old high, leafless trees, out it looked from its place between the mountain ranges. Its point of view, its position in space, had each its value--whether a lesser value or a greater value than other points and positions only the Judge of all can determine. The little town tried to see clearly and to act rightly. If, in this time so troubled, so obscured by mounting clouds, so tossed by winds of passion and of prejudice, it felt the proudest assurance that it was doing both, at least that self-infatuation was shared all around the compass. - Mary Johnston, The Long Roll [1911] (ch. 1) The work of the day being over, I say down upon my doorstep, pipe in hand, to rest awhile in the cool of the evening. - Mary Johnston, To Have and to Hold [1900] Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo. . . . - James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man [1916] riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodious vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. - James Joyce, Finnegans Wake [1939] Lily, the caretaker's daughter, was literally run off her feet. Hardly had she brought one gentleman into the little pantry behind the office on the ground floor and helped him off with his overcoat, than the wheezy hall-door bell clanged again and she had to scamper along the bare hallway to let in another guest. It was well for her she had not to attend to the ladies also. - James Joyce, The Dead [1914], a short story from The Dubliners Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: ----Introibo ad altare Dei. - James Joyce, Ulysses [1922] "It's a remarkable piece of apparatus," said the officer to the explorer and surveyed with a certain air of admiration the apparatus which was after all quite familiar to him. The explorer seemed to have accepted merely out of politeness the Commandant's invitation to witness the execution of a soldier condemned to death for disobedience and insulting behavior to a superior. - Franz Kafka, In the Penal Colony [1919], a short story, (Willa and Edwin Muir translation) It was late in the evening when K. arrived. The village was deep in snow. The Castle hill has hidden, veiled in mist and darkness, nor was there even a glimmer of light to show that a castle was there. On the wooden bridge leading from the main road to the village, K. stood for a long time gazing into the illusory emptiness above him. - Franz Kafka, The Castle [1926] (ch. 1), (Willa and Edwin Muir translation) As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. - Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis [1915] (ch. I), a short story Someone must have traduced Joseph K., for without having done anything wrong he was arrested one fine morning. - Franz Kafka, The Trial [1925] Somebody must have been telling lies about Joseph K., for without having done anything wrong he was arrested one fine morning. - Franz Kafka, The Trial [1925] (ch. 1) London lay as if washed with water-colour that Sunday morning, light blue sky and pale dancing sunlight wooing the begrimed stones of Westminster like a young girl with an old lover. - Robert Keable, Simon Called Peter [1921] (pt. 1, ch. 1) A thing of beauty is a joy forever; Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. - John Keats (1), Endymion (bk. I, l. 1) Oh, what can all thee knight at arms Alone and palely loitering? - John Keats (1), La belle dame sane merci [1820] Thou still unravished bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time. - John Keats (1), Ode on a Grecian Urn [1820] My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense. - John Keats (1), Ode to a Nightingale [1820] Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer rules as his demesne, Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold; Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific,--and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise,-- Silent, upon a peak in Darien. - John Keats (1), On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer [1817], (Cortez confused with Balboa) St. Agnes's Eve--Ah, bitter chill is was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold. - John Keats (1), The Eve of St. Agnes [1820] Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core. - John Keats (1), To Autumn [1820] At the time of his death the name of Albert Sanger was barely known to the musical public of Great Britain. Among the very few who had heard of him there were even some who called him Sanje, in the French manner, being disinclined to suppose that great men are occasionally born in Hammersmith. - Margaret Kennedy, The Constant Nymph [1925] Custer felt it his greatest privilege to sit of a Sunday morning in his mother's clean and burnished kitchen and, while she washed the breakfast dishes, listen to such reflections as his father might care to indulge in. - Vaughan Kester, The Just and the Unjust [1912] (ch. 1) The Quintards had not prospered on the barren lands of the pine woods whither they had emigrated to escape the malaria of the low coast, but this no longer mattered, for the last of his name and race, old General Quintard, was dead in the great house his father had built almost a century before and the thin acres of the Barony, where he had made his last stand against age and poverty, were to claim him, now that he had given up the struggle in their midst. - Vaughan Kester, The Prodigal Judge [1911] (ch. I) Although I have a handsome face and colour. Cheek like the tulips, form like the cypress, It is not clear why the Eternal Painter Thus tricked me out for the dusty show-booth of earth. - Omar Khayyam ("The Tent-Maker"), The Rubaiyat (st. 1), (Avery and Heath Stubbs translation) As a matter of fact, Davenant was under no illusions concerning the quality of the welcome his hostess was according him, though he found a certain pleasure in being once more in her company. - Basil King, The Street Called Straight [1912] (ch. 1) Displaying page 22 of 98 for this topic: << Prev Next >> 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 [22] 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98
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