Hector Berlioz; Selections from His Letters, and Aesthetic, Humorous, and Satirical Writings

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Holt, 1879 - Počet stran: 427
 

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Strana 60 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.
Strana 401 - That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
Strana 401 - Ay, truly ; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness : this was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof.
Strana 401 - As made the things more rich; their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
Strana 400 - tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them ? To die to sleep No more and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep...
Strana 46 - Berlioz], to crown my happiness, after the audience had gone out, a man with a long mane of hair, with piercing eyes, with a strange and haggard face, one possessed by genius, a colossus among giants, whom I had never seen and whose appearance moved me profoundly, was alone and waiting for me in the hall, stopped me to press my hand, overwhelmed me with burning praise, which set fire to my heart and head: it was Paganini! . . . Some weeks after this vindicatory concert of which I have spoken, Paganini...
Strana 28 - Shakspere, coming upon me thus suddenly, struck me as with a thunder-bolt. His lightning opened the heaven of art to me with a sublime crash, and lighted up its furthest depths. I recognized true dramatic grandeur, beauty, and truth. I measured at the same time the boundless inanity of the notions of...
Strana 345 - And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent. Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men. Of all this servile herd the worst is he That in proud dulness joins with Quality.
Strana 341 - None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more...

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