Memories and PortraitsC. Scribner's Sons, 1898 - 299 lappuses |
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admiration adventure Allan Water artist Author of Beltraffio beautiful blood character charm child colour d'Artagnan David Hume delight Dhu Heartach Dumas Earraid Edinburgh English face fancy fear Fleeming Jenkin garden gentleman Guy Mannering hand hear heart human humour incident interest isle John John Todd kind knew least light lived look man's manner matter memory mind moral nature never night novel once painful passion perhaps play pleasure R. L. STEVENSON reader Robert ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON romance scene Scotch Scotland seems sense shadow Shakespeare shine Skelt Skerryvore smiling spirit story strange student surprise tale talk talkers tell theatre thing Thomas Stevenson thought tion touch true vanity Vicomte Vicomte de Bragelonne virtues volumes walked Water of Leith whole wonder words young youth
Populāri fragmenti
110. lappuse - Thy foot he'll not let slide, nor will He slumber that thee keeps. -Behold, he that keeps Israel, He slumbers not, nor sleeps.
57. lappuse - I was known and pointed out for the pattern of an idler; and yet I was always busy on my own private end, which was to learn to write.
61. lappuse - That, like it or not, is the way to learn to write: whether I have profited or not, that is the way. It was so Keats learned, and there was never a finer temperament for literature than Keats...
267. lappuse - Now < in character-studies the pleasure that we take is critical ; we watch, we approve, we smile at incongruities, we are moved to sudden heats of sympathy with courage, suffering or virtue. But the characters are still themselves, they are not us ; the more clearly they are depicted, the more widely do they stand away from us, the more imperiously do they thrust us back into our place as a spectator. I cannot identify myself with Rawdon Crawley or with Eugene de Rastignac, for I have scarce a hope...
251. lappuse - There is a vast deal in life and letters both which is not immoral, but simply a-moral; which either does not regard the human will at all, or deals with it in obvious and healthy relations ; where the interest turns, not upon what a man shall choose to do, but on how he manages to do it ; not on the passionate slips and hesitations of the conscience, but on the problems of the body and of the practical intelligence, in clean, open-air adventure, the shock of arms or the diplomacy of life.
62. lappuse - Before he can tell what cadences he truly prefers, the student should have tried all that are possible ; before he can choose and preserve a fitting key of words, he should long have practiced the literary scales.
289. lappuse - Here is, indeed a wilful paradox; for if he has never been on a quest for buried treasure, it can be demonstrated that he has never been a child. There never was a child (unless Master James) but has hunted gold, and been a pirate, and a military commander, and a bandit of the mountains ; but has fought, and suffered shipwreck and prison, and imbrued its little hands in gore, and gallantly retrieved the lost battle and triumphantly protected innocence and beauty. Elsewhere in his essay Mr. James...
252. lappuse - One place suggests work, another idleness, a third early rising and long rambles in the dew. The effect of night, of any flowing water, of lighted cities, of the peep of day, of ships, of the open ocean, calls up in the mind an army of anonymous desires and pleasures. Something, we feel, should happen ; we know not what, yet we proceed in quest of it.
268. lappuse - It is not character but incident that woos us out of our reserve. Something happens as we desire to have it happen to ourselves; some situation, that we have long dallied with in fancy, is realized in the story with enticing and appropriate details. Then we forget the characters ; then we push the hero aside ; then we plunge into the tale in our own person and bathe in fresh experience; and then, and then only, do we say we have been reading a romance.
232. lappuse - I carried the thread of that epic into my slumbers, I woke with it unbroken, I rejoiced to plunge into the book again at breakfast, it was with a pang that I must lay it down and turn to my own labours; for no part of the world has ever seemed to me so charming as these pages, and not even my friends are quite so real, perhaps quite so dear, as d'Artagnan.