The Marble Faun: Or, The Romance of Monte BeniHoughton, Mifflin, 1884 - 527 sider |
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Andre udgaver - Se alle
The Marble Faun or the Romance of Monte Beni Nathaniel Hawthorne,Julian Hawthorne,George Parsons Lathrop Begrænset visning - 2024 |
The Marble Faun or the Romance of Monte Beni Nathaniel Hawthorne,Julian Hawthorne,George Parsons Lathrop Begrænset visning - 2024 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
ancholy answered Miriam antique Apennines Appian arches artist asked bas-reliefs Beatrice Cenci beautiful beheld beneath blessed breath Capitoline Hill catacomb church Count creature cried crime dark dear delicate delightful Dona Donatello dream earth earthly evil exclaimed eyes face fancied Faun feel figure fling forever fountain gazed girl glance gloom hand happy haunts heart Hilda human idea imagination innocent Italian Italy knew light look machicolated maiden marble Marble Faun mediæval ment mind mirth Monte Monte Beni Montefiascone moral mystery nature never nymph once palace passion perhaps Perugia piazza picture Pincian Hill poor Praxiteles Roman Rome scene sculp sculptor seemed shadow shrine Signore signorina smile sorrow soul spirit statue stone stood strange sunshine sweet sympathy tell tello tender things thought Tiber tion Tomaso tower Trajan truth ture Virgin voice walls wild wine woman wonder wrought young
Populære passager
Side 15 - 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.
Side 276 - ... drearier region than we were born in. It insists upon everybody's adding somewhat — a mite, perhaps, but earned by incessant effort — to an accumulated pile of usefulness, of which the only use will be, to burden our posterity with even heavier thoughts and more inordinate labor than our own. No life now wanders like an unfettered stream ; there is a mill-wheel for the tiniest rivulet to turn. We go all wrong, by too strenuous a resolution to go all right.
Side 138 - but, as with dreamers when they shout, her voice would perish inaudibly in the remoteness that seemed such a little way. This perception of an infinite, shivering solitude, amid which we cannot come close enough to human beings to be warmed by them, and where they turn to cold, chilly shapes of mist, is one of the most forlorn results of any accident, misfortune, crime, or peculiarity of character, that puts an individual ajar with the world.
Side 149 - Not a nude figure, I hope!" observed Miriam. "Every young sculptor seems to think that he must give the world some specimen of indecorous womanhood, and call it Eve, Venus, a Nymph, or any name that may apologize for a lack of decent clothing. I am weary, even more than I am ashamed, of seeing such things. Now-a-days, people are as good as born in their clothes, and there is practically not a nude human being in existence. An artist, therefore,— as you must candidly confess,— cannot sculpture...
Side 243 - If I were one of God's angels, with a nature incapable of stain, and garments that never could be spotted, I would keep ever at your side, and try to lead you upward. But I am a poor, lonely girl, whom God has set here in an evil world, and given her only a white robe, and bid her wear it back to Him, as white as when she put it on.
Side 21 - It is a vague sense of ponderous remembrances; a perception of such weight and density in a by-gone life, of which this spot was the centre, that the present moment is pressed down or crowded out, and our individual affairs and interests are but half as real, here, as elsewhere.
Side 431 - Nobody, I think, ought to read poetry, or look at pictures or statues, who cannot find a great deal more in them than the poet or artist has actually expressed. Their highest merit is suggestiveness.
Side 181 - It is politic, however, to make few allusions to such a past ; nor, if we would create an interest in the characters of our story, is it wise to suggest how Cicero's foot may have stepped on yonder stone, or how Horace was wont to stroll near by, making his footsteps chime with the measure of the ode that was ringing in his mind. The very ghosts of that massive and stately epoch have so much density that the actual people of to-day seem the thinner of the two, and stand more ghostlike by the arches...
Side 65 - She was very youthful, and had what was usually thought to be a Jewish aspect; a complexion in which there was no roseate bloom, yet neither was it pale; dark eyes, into which you might look as deeply as your glance would go, and still be conscious of a depth that you had not sounded, though it lay open to the day. She had black, abundant hair, with none of the vulgar glossiness of other women's sable locks; if she were really of Jewish blood, then this was Jewish hair, and a dark glory such as crowns...
Side 16 - And, again, while reproducing the book, on the broad and dreary sands of Redcar, with the gray German Ocean tumbling in upon me, and the northern blast always howling in my ears...