The American Journal of Psychology, 31. kötet

Első borító
Granville Stanley Hall, Edward Bradford Titchener, Karl M. Dallenbach, Madison Bentley, Edwin Garrigues Boring, Margaret Floy Washburn
University of Illinois Press, 1919
 

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377. oldal - Yes, Heaven is thine; but this Is a world of sweets and sours; Our flowers are merely — flowers, And the shadow of thy perfect bliss Is the sunshine of ours. If I could dwell Where Israfel Hath dwelt, and he where I, He might not sing so wildly well A mortal melody, While a bolder note than this might swell From my lyre within the sky.
379. oldal - For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling— my darling— my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.
379. oldal - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we ; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
377. oldal - No swellings tell that winds may be Upon some far-off happier sea; No heavings hint that winds have been On seas less hideously serene.
381. oldal - ... wrought upon the cloth in patterns of the most jetty black. But these figures partook of the true character of the arabesque only when regarded from a single point of view. By a contrivance now common, and indeed traceable to a very remote period of antiquity, they were made changeable in aspect. To one entering the room...
380. oldal - ... enemies referred the insanity to the drink, rather than the drink to the insanity. I had, indeed, nearly abandoned all hope of a permanent cure, when I found one in the death of my wife. This I can and do endure as becomes a man. It was the horrible, never-ending oscillation between hope and despair which I could not longer have endured without total loss of reason. In the death of what was my life, then, I received a new but — Oh God! — how melancholy an existence.
377. oldal - So blend the turrets and shadows there That all seem pendulous in air, While from a proud tower in the town Death looks gigantically down. There open fanes and gaping graves Yawn level with the luminous waves...
382. oldal - ... moved his station in the chamber, he saw himself surrounded by an endless succession of the ghastly forms which belong to the superstition of the Norman, or arise in the guilty slumbers of the monk. The phantasmagoric effect was vastly heightened by the artificial introduction of a strong continual current of wind behind the draperies, giving a hideous and uneasy animation to the whole.
379. oldal - Of all melancholy topics, what, according to the universal understanding of mankind, is the most melancholy ? " Death — was the obvious reply.
379. oldal - Laughingly through the lattice drop— The bodiless airs, a wizard rout, Flit through thy chamber in and out, And wave the curtain canopy So fitfully— so fearfully— Above the closed and fringed lid 'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid, That, o'er the floor and down the wall, Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!

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