The Diversions of a Book-wormG.J. Coombes, 1887 - 258 oldal |
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admirable Artemus Ward beauty Ben Jonson Bishop book-lover bookseller BOOKWORM busy Carlyle Charles Lamb charm Coleridge comfort Concord copy corner delight door dreams duodecimo Emerson eyes favourite Ferrar folio Friar Jerome garden garret genius gentle George hand happy Hawthorne heart humour Izaak kind Leigh Hunt letters light literary Little Britain little volume live look Lord Madame ment Montaigne morning never Nicholas Ferrar night nook Old Manse passed picture plain Plain Dealer pleasant pleasure Plutarch poem poet poetry possess prints published quarto quiet recollection Rees rest Richard Sibbes romance round sent Shakespeare shelf shelves Skiddaw soul Southey spirit story Summer days sweet taste Thomas à Kempis Thoreau thought tion Tom Jones treasures truth Vincent Walden Walden Pond Washington Irving Whidbourne wife window words worthy write written wrote
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58. oldal - went to the woods because he wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if he could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when he came to die, discover that he had not lived.
121. oldal - Of heaven and hell I have no power to sing ; I cannot ease the burden of your fears, Or make quick-coming death a little thing, Or bring again the pleasure of past years, Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears,
172. oldal - the thousand thumbs that have turned over their pages with delight; of the lone sempstress, whom they may have cheered (milliner, or harder-working mantuamaker), after her long day's needletoil, running far into midnight, when she has snatched an hour, ill-spared from sleep, to steep her cares, as in some Lethean cup, in spelling out their enchanting contents.
103. oldal - It was a beautiful day—so warm that every window was wide open—and so perfectly still that the sound of all others most delicious to the ear, the gentle ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles, was distinctly audible as we knelt
236. oldal - but not finding the author much to her taste she got up and went away. Gentle casuist, I leave it to thee to conjecture, whether the blush (for there was one between us) was the property of the nymph or the swain in this dilemma. From me you shall never get the
163. oldal - while hers was in stupor. She went on from one brown mark to another, where the quiet hand seemed to point, hardly conscious that she was reading—seeming rather to listen while a low voice said, ' Why dost thou here gaze about, since this is not the place of thy rest
235. oldal - nothing in the book to make a man seriously ashamed at the exposure; but as she seated herself down by me, and seemed determined to read in company, I could have wished it had been any other book. We read on very sociably for a few pages
234. oldal - It breathes the very spirit of innocence, purity, and simplicity of heart. There are many choice old verses interspersed in it. It would sweeten a man's temper at any time to read it; it would Christianize every discordant angry passion.
175. oldal - I have not thanked you in Sophia's name for the kind attention which furnished her with the American volumes, I am not quite sure I can add my own, since you have made her acquainted with much more of papa's folly than she would ever otherwise have learned; for I