The Writings of Mrs. Humphry Ward: The history of David GrieveHoughton Mifflin, 1909 |
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The Writings of Mrs. Humphry Ward ...: The history of David Grieve Mrs. Humphry Ward Vista completa - 1911 |
The Writings of Mrs. Humphry Ward ...: The history of David Grieve Mrs. Humphry Ward Vista completa - 1911 |
The Writings of Mrs. Humphry Ward ...: The history of David Grieve Mrs. Humphry Ward Vista de fragmentos - 1911 |
Términos y frases comunes
Ancrum asked Aunt Hannah Barbier began child church Clough End coom cried Daddy Daddy's dark David Grieve Davy Derbyshire doan't door Dora Dora's Driffield Edale excitement eyes face farm father fell foak friends Frimley gell George Sand gien girl Grieve's hand head instinct Kinder knew Lancashire laugh Lias Lomax looked Louie Lucy Manchester Manchester New College Margaret Meanwhile mind Miss moor moorland neet never night nobory nowt Parlour passion poor Purcell Purcell's Red Brook Reuben Grieve Robert Elsmere round Sandy Scout Secularist seemed side silence sister smithy soom stared stood Street suddenly talk tell Theer's there's things thought took turned Uncle Reuben voice Voltaire walked wife Wigson woman words yo'll yo're young
Pasajes populares
Página 206 - tis Love! Thou diedst for me! I hear Thy whisper in my heart! The morning breaks, the shadows flee; Pure universal Love Thou art ! To me, to all, Thy bowels move; Thy nature, and Thy name, is Love!
Página 254 - Vast Superstition ! Glorious style of weakness ! Sprung from the deep disquiet of man's passion, To dissolution and despair of Nature : Thy texts bring princes' titles into question : Thy prophets set on work the sword of tyrants : They manacle sweet Truth with their distinctions : Let Virtue blood : teach Cruelty for God's sake ; Fashioning one God ; yet Him of many fashions, Like many-headed Error, in their passions. Mankind...
Página xxii - For every artist of whatever type there is one inexorable law. Your ' criticism of life ' must be fashioned under the conditions of imaginative truth and imaginative beauty. If you, being a novelist, make a dull story, not all the religious argument in the world will or should save you. For your business is to make a novel, not a pamphlet, a reflection of human life, and not merely a record of intellectual conception. But under these conditions everything is open— try what you will — and the...
Página 366 - ... cold-blooded cubs — go to the devil, I tell you, and read your Byron!' And, striking an attitude which was a boisterous reminiscence of Macready, the old wanderer flung out the lines: 'Alas! when mingling souls forget to blend, Death hath but little left him to destroy. Ah! happy years! Once more, who would not be a boy?' David laughed out. Daddy turned petulantly away, and looked out of window. The night was dreary, dark, and wet. 'Dora!
Página 189 - If I live to be a hundred I shall never forget that little glimpse you've just given me of yourself.
Página xxvii - Some distance away in front of him, beyond the undulating heather ground at his feet, rose a magnificent curving front of moor, the steep sides of it crowned with black edges and cliffs of grit, the outline of the south-western end sweeping finely up on the right to a purple peak, the king of all the moorland round.
Página xxii - ... of the Quarterlies, may I still be proud to count myself — however feeble, however weak — among that company? I am so made that I cannot picture a human being's development without wanting to know the whole, his religion as well as his business, his thoughts as well as his actions. I cannot try to reflect my time without taking account of forces which are at least as real and living as any other forces, and have at least as much to do with the drama of human existence about me.
Página 5 - edge' behind 'edge,' till the central rocky mass sank and faded towards the north into milder forms of green and undulating hills. In the very centre of the great curve a white and surging mass of water cleft the mountain from top to bottom, falling straight over the edge, here some two thousand feet above the sea, and roaring downward along an almost precipitous bed into the stream — the Kinder — which swept round the hill on which the boy was standing, and through the valley behind him. In...
Página 367 - ... triumph sat on him ! How crisply and handsomely his black hair curled above his open brow ! ' More secrets,' growled Daddy. ' Nothing of any interest, Daddy. Miss Dora can tell you all about it, if she cares. Now go along ! Start 'em on the Bishop of Peterborough and the Secularists. I've got a lot to say about that.' He pushed Daddy laughingly to the door, and came back again to where Dora was once more grappling with her silks. Her expression had changed again. Oh ! she had so many things to...