Reminiscences of William Wetmore Story: The American Sculptor and Author; Being Incidents and Anecdotes Chronologically Arranged, Together with an Account of His Association with Famous People and His Principal Works in Literature and Sculpture
Rand McNally, 1897 - 305 páginas
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admiration American artist beautiful Boston Browning called Cambridge character charming dear death delight dream expression eyes face father feel figure genius give given half hand happy head heart honor hope human ideal interest Italian Italy James Judge Story labor leave letter light lines live London look marble memory mind Miss modeled nature never once original passed perhaps picture play poem poet present reading remember rest Roman Rome Salem says sculptor seems shadows soul speak spirit stands statue Story's strong studio success talk tells things thought tion took turn volume W. W. Story Waldo Washington wife writes written York young
Página 274 - Be innocent of the knowledge , dearest chuck , Till thou applaud the deed. — Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale!
Página 255 - Speak, History! Who are Life's victors? Unroll thy long annals and say, Are they those whom the world called the victors, who won the success of a day? The martyrs, or Nero? The Spartans, who fell at Thermopylae's tryst, Or the Persians and Xerxes? His judges or Socrates? Pilate or Christ?
Página 234 - HERE, Charmian, take my bracelets; They bar with a purple stain My arms; turn over my pillows — They are hot where I have lain: Open the lattice wider, A gauze o'er my bosom throw, And let me inhale the odors That over the garden blow. I dreamed I was with my Antony And in his arms I lay; Ah me! the vision has vanished — The music has died away. The flame and the perfume have perishedAs this spiced aromatic pastille That wound the blue smoke of its odor, Is now but an ashy hill.
Página 135 - ... life-history is yet to be. A few days after, he told me that he had conceived the idea of a statue which he should call the Libyan Sibyl. Two years subsequently, I revisited Rome, and found the gorgeous Cleopatra finished, a thing to marvel at, as the creation of a new style of beauty, a new manner of art. Mr. Story requested me to come and repeat to him the history of Sojourner Truth, saying that the conception had never left him. I did so ; and a day or two after, he showed me the clay model...
Página 66 - If rout, to ruin following, close the day ? What worth a hundred posts maintained with skill, If these all held, the foe is victor still ! He who would win his cause, with power must frame...
Página 226 - T was so many a year ago ; Or you may not choose to remember it, Time may have changed you so. The world so chills us and kills us, Perhaps you may scorn to recall That night, with its innocent impulse, — Perhaps you '11 deny it all.
Página 235 - I wandered where never a track Of a human creature had rustled The silence of mighty woods, And, fierce in a tyrannous freedom, I knew but the law of my moods. The elephant, trumpeting, started When he heard my footsteps near, And the spotted giraffes fled wildly In a yellow cloud of fear.
Página 66 - Strike but few blows, but strike them to the heart; All scattered fires but end in smoke and noise, The scorn of men, the idle play of boys. Keep, then, this first great precept ever near, Short be your speech, your matter strong and clear, Earnest your manner, warm and rich your style, Severe in taste, yet full of grace the while; So may you reach the loftiest heights of fame, And leave, when life is past, a deathless name.
Página 296 - Reports of Cases Argued and Determined in the Circuit Court of the United States for the First Circuit.
Página 121 - ... mother insisted on going when she and I went out in the carriage together. I am horribly weak about such things ; I can't look on the earthside of death ; I flinch from corpses and graves, and never meet a common funeral without a sort of horror. When I look deathwards I look over death, and upwards, or I can't look that way at all. So that it was a struggle with me to sit upright in that carriage in which the poor stricken mother sat so calmly — not to drop from the seat.