Prue and ICosimo, Inc., 11. 8. 2005. - 248 страница I have read in some books of travels that certain tribes of Arabs have no name for the ocean, and that when they came to the shore for the first time, they asked with eager sadness, as if penetrated by the conviction of a superior beauty, "what is that desert of water more beautiful than the land?"-from the story "Sea From Shore" in Prue and ICity society and country bloom, the rambunctiousness of children and the loveliness of women, the elegant pleasure of dining out and the rustic charm of ancient ruins... George William Curtis's philosophical reveries on the simple delights of being alive have inspired readers to appreciate every moment to the fullest since they first appeared in book form in 1856. Each of these short stories, tender portraits of everyday life, is a wonderfully romantic trifle, a tiny treasure to be savored.American writer GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS (1824-1892), briefly a follower of the Transcendental movement, traveled extensively in Europe and the Middle East before alighting in New York, where he became one of the liveliest figures on the city's literary scene in the mid-18th century. His work appeared in numerous publications including Harper's Monthly and Harper's Weekly, and he served as editor at the New York Tribune and Putnam's Monthly, positions in which he was an influential shaper of public opinion. Other works still highly regarded today include his From the Easy Chair and Literary and Social Essays. |
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| 3 | |
| 31 | |
SEA FROM SHORE | 63 |
TITBOTTOMS SPECTACLES | 99 |
A CRUISE IN THE FLYING DUTCHMAN | 143 |
FAMILY PORTRAITS | 183 |
OUR COUSIN THE CURATE | 201 |
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asked beautiful Aurelia Bourne Bourne's calm castles in Spain cousin the curate cravat Crimea dear deck dine dinner dream dress East Indiaman Eldorado eyes face faded fair family portraits fancy feel flash Flora flowers FLYING DUTCHMAN gazed gentle girl glance glasses going gonfalon grace grandfather Titbottom grandmother hair hand happy hear heard heart hope Iliad Italy knew Kubla Khan Lady landscape large aunt leaning lived lost lover magic mist morning neighbor never odor passed pensive Persia Philip Sidney Preciosa Prue's quaint remember replied sails Sculpin seemed seen ship shore silence sitting slowly smile soft Spanish Spanish Armada specta spectacles Staten Island stood story strange stroll summer suppose sure sweet tacles tears tell thing thought tropical trowsers turned twilight voice waistcoat walk warm watched wife window woman wonder young friend youth
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Страница 222 - Farewell, dear flowers, sweetly your time ye spent, Fit, while ye lived, for smell or ornament, And after death for cures. I follow straight without complaints or grief, Since, if my scent be good, I care not if It be as short as yours.
Страница 64 - For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be; Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails, Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales ; Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'da ghastly dew From the nations...
Страница 222 - LIFE. I MADE a posy, while the day ran by : Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band.
Страница 222 - But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they By noon most cunningly did steal away, And withered in my hand. My hand was next to them, and then my heart: I took, without more thinking, in good part Time's gentle admonition: Who did so sweetly death's sad taste convey, Making my mind to smell my fatal day; Yet sugaring the suspicion.
Страница 33 - Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies ? Thought would destroy their paradise! No more; — where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Страница 39 - Enna — all in my Spanish domains. From the windows of those castles look the beautiful women whom I have never seen, whose portraits the poets have painted. They wait for me there, and chiefly the fair-haired child, lost to my eyes so long ago, now bloomed into an impossible beauty. The lights that never shone, glance at evening in the vaulted halls, upon banquets that were never spread. The bands I have never collected, play all night long, and enchant the brilliant company, that was never assembled,...
Страница 127 - My grandmother sent me to school, but I looked at the master, and saw that he was a smooth round ferule, or an improper noun, or a vulgar fraction, and refused to obey him. Or he was a piece of string, a rag, a willow-wand, and I had a contemptuous pity. But one was a well of cool, deep water, and looking suddenly in, one day, I saw the stars.
Страница 112 - To a stranger, life upon those little islands is uniform even to weariness. But the old native dons, like my grandfather, ripen in the prolonged sunshine, like the turtle upon the Bahama banks, nor know of existence more desirable. Life in the tropics, I take to be a placid torpidity. "During the long, warm mornings of nearly half a century, my grandfather Titbottom had sat in his dressing-gown, and gazed at the sea. But one calm June day, as he slowly paced the piazza after breakfast, his dreamy...
Страница 120 - My parents were both dead, and my grandmother had entire charge of me. But from the moment that I received the gift of the spectacles, I could not resist their fascination, and I withdrew into myself, and became a solitary boy. There were not many companions for me of my own age, and they gradually left me, or, at least, had not a hearty sympathy with me ; for, if they teased me, I pulled out my spectacles and surveyed them so seriously that they acquired a kind of awe of me, and evidently regarded...