Hours in a Library: De Foe's novels. Richardson's novels. Pope as a moralist. Mr. Elwin's edition of Pope. Some words about Sir Walter Scott. Nathaniel Hawthorne. Balzac's novels. De QuinceySmith, Elder, & Company, 1874 |
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admirable admit amongst amusing argument artistic Balzac become believe better Bolingbroke Carlyle character charm Clarissa commonplace confess critic delicate described devil doctrine Dunciad elaborate Elwin English epigram Essay Eugénie Grandet example expressed fact fancy fault feel fiction Foe's French friends genius genuine give Goriot Hawthorne hero human imagination interest Ivanhoe John Bull kind ladies language less literary living Lovelace merits mind Miss Byron modern Moll Flanders moral mysterious narrative nature never novelist novels old Goriot opium pantheistic passage passion peculiar perhaps poem poet poetical poetry poor Pope Pope's prosaic prose Puritan Quincey Quincey's quote racter readers reason recognise remark Richardson Robinson Crusoe romance Roxana says Scott seems sense sentiment Shakspeare Sir Charles Grandison soul speak story strange style sympathy taste tells things thought tion true truth uncon verse villains virtue virtuous Voltaire whilst whole words writers
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 167 - FATHER of all ! in every age, In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! Thou great First Cause, least understood, Who all my sense confined To know but this, that Thou art good, And that myself am blind...
Seite 184 - Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
Seite 199 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent: Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns: To him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Seite 160 - Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher, Death; and God adore. What future bliss, He gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never Is, but always To Be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Seite 183 - When the proud steed shall know why man restrains His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains: When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod, Is now a victim, and now Egypt's god: Then shall man's pride and dulness comprehend His actions', passions', being's, use and end; Why doing, suffering, checked, impelled; and why This hour a slave, the next a deity.
Seite 262 - No author, without a trial, can conceive of the difficulty of writing a romance about a country where there is no shadow, no antiquity, no mystery, no picturesque and gloomy wrong, nor anything but a commonplace prosperity, in broad and simple daylight, as is happily the case with my dear native land.
Seite 178 - A perfect judge will read each work of wit With the same spirit that its author writ ; Survey the whole, nor seek slight faults to find Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind ; Nor lose, for that malignant dull delight, The generous pleasure to be charm'd with wit.
Seite 48 - I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress : My God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, And from the noisome pestilence.
Seite 147 - On painted ceilings you devoutly stare, Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre, On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie, And bring all Paradise before your eye. To rest, the cushion and soft Dean invite, Who never mentions hell to ears polite.
Seite 287 - The book, if you would see anything in it, requires to be read in the clear, brown, twilight atmosphere in which it was written; if opened in the sunshine, it is apt to look exceedingly like a volume of blank pages.