It’s beyond everything. Nothing at all that I know touches it.
His absence from her for so many weeks had had such an effect upon him that his demands, his desires had grown; and only the night before, as his ship steamed, beneath summer stars, in sight of the Irish coast, he had felt all the force of his particular necessity.
But he didn’t, it happened, know the Munsters well enough to give the case much of a lift; so that they were left together as if over the mere laid table of conversation.
Is to bring about for them such a complexity of relations – unless indeed we call it a simplicity! – that the situation has to wind itself up. They want to go back.
Her real offense was having a mind of her own.
The misery of Venice stands there for all the world to see; it is part of the spectacle – a thoroughgoing devotee of local colour might consistently say it is part of the pleasure. The.
His full parenthesis was closed, and he was once more but a sentence, of a sort, in the general text, the text that, from his momentary street-corner, showed as a great grey page of print that somehow managed to be crowded without being ‘fine’.
But I was to be later on so much more overwhelmed that this mere dawn of alarm was a comparatively human chill.
But these fancies were not marked enough not not to be thrown off, and it is only in the light, or the gloom, I should rather say, of other and subsequent matters that they now come back to me.
The superiority you discern in me,” she concurred, “announces my futility. If you knew,” she sighed, “the dreams of my youth!” But our realities are what has brought us together. We’re beaten brothers in arms.
Susie had an intense thought and then an effusion. ‘My dear child, we move in a labyrinth.’ ‘Of course we do. That’s just the fun of it!’ said Milly with a strange gaiety. Then she added: ‘Don’t tell me that – in this for instance – there are not abysses. I want abysses.
It was the first time, in a manner, that I had known space and air and freedom, all the music of summer and all the mystery of nature.
I was dazzled by their loveliness.
What young man had ever paraded about that way, without a reason, a maiden in her flower? And.
What was at all events not permanently hidden from him was a truth much less invidious about his years of darkness. It was the strange scheme of things again: the years of darkness had been needed to render possible the years of light.
It all left her, as she wandered off, with the strangest of impressions – the sense, forced upon her as never yet, of an appeal, a positive confidence, from the four pairs of eyes, that was deeper than any negation and that seemed to speak on the part of each for some relation to be contrived by her, a relation with herself, which would spare the individual the danger, the actual present strain, of the relation with the others. They.
But it was as if I had been looking at him for years and had known him always.
They might in short have represented any mystery they would; the point being predominantly that the key to the mystery, the key that could wind and unwind it without a snap of the spring, was there in her pocket – or rather, no doubt, clasped at this crisis in her hand and pressed, as she walked back and forth, to her breast. She.
All these people – the people of the English mother’s side – had been of condition more or less eminent; yet with oddities and disparities that had often since made Maria, thinking them over, wonder what they really quite rhymed to.
What’s a man,’ she pursued, ’especially an ambitious one, without a variety of ideas?