A Sentimental Journey through France and ItalyXist Publishing, 16.09.2015 - 167 Seiten The Birth of Travel Writing “Dear sensibility! Source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! Eternal fountain of our feelings! 'tis here I trace thee and this is thy divinity which stirs within me...All comes from thee, great-great SENSORIUM of the world!” - Laurence Sterne, A Sentimental Journey Parson Yorick is an English traveler who doesn’t know much about plots and how to write proper novels. He knows many things however about human character. So he decides to write his impressions and adventures during his travels in France and Italy. No plot, just his encounters with many different men and women. Xist Publishing is a digital-first publisher. Xist Publishing creates books for the touchscreen generation and is dedicated to helping everyone develop a lifetime love of reading, no matter what form it takes |
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... spirits, and make so many kind-hearted brethren of us fall out so cruelly as we do by the way? When man is at peace with man, how much lighter than a feather is the heaviest of metals in his hand! he pulls out his purse, and holding it ...
... conversation as he can find, it requires no great spirit of divination to guess at his party— This brings me to my point; and naturally leads me (if the see-saw of this désobligeant will but let me get on) P RE FA C E . ...
... spirits:—You suffer, Mons. Dessein, as much as the machine— I have always observed, when there is as much sour as sweet in a compliment, that an Englishman is eternally at a loss within himself, whether to take it, or let it alone: a ...
... spirits— —Good God! how a man might lead such a creature as this round the world with him!— I had not yet seen her face—'twas not material: for the drawing was instantly set about, and long before we had got to the door of the Remise ...
... spirit as well as moral of this, that I had been mistaken in her character; but upon turning her face towards me, the spirit which had animated the reply was fled,—the muscles relaxed, and I beheld the same unprotected look of distress ...