We that are true lovers run into strange capers. AS YOU LIKE IT ii. 4. a 'reason unto themselves.' We have gone retrograde AFTER all, Love's Sectaries are in the noble Heresy since the days when Sidney proselyted our nation to this mixed health and disease: the kindliest symptom yet the most alarming crisis in the ticklish state of youth; the nourisher and the destroyer of hopeful wits; the mother of twin-births, wisdom and folly, valour and weakness; the servitude above freedom; the gentle mind's religion; the liberal superstition. CHARLES LAMB. He or she that hopes to gain Cupid's livery no one wears But must put on hopes and fears, Smiles and tears. ANON. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts. HAMLET iv. 5. THE noble mansion is most distinguished by the beautiful images it retains of beings passed away; and so is the noble mind. LANDOR. LILIES for a bridal bed Roses for a matron's head Violets for a maiden dead Pansies let my flowers be. SHELLEY. O me, what eyes hath love put in my head, SONN. CXLVIII. A CERTAIN institution in Mr. Podsnap's mind, which he called 'the Young Person,' may be considered to have been embodied in his daughter. It was an inconvenient and exacting institution, as requiring everything in the world to be filed down and fitted to it. The question about everything was, would it bring a blush to the cheek of the young person? and the inconvenience of the young person was, that according to Mr. Podsnap, she seemed to be always liable to burst into blushes where there was no need at all. There appeared to be no line of demarcation between the young person's excessive innocence, and another person's guiltiest knowledge. DICKENS. BUT in my country, where I most desire— MILTON. But are you flesh and blood? Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy-motion? IN PERICLES V. I. N a little shabby, chilly corridor adjoining is a fresco of Lionardo, a Virgin and child, with the Donatorio. It is very small, simple, and faded, but has all the artist's magic. It has that mocking, illusive refinement, that hint of a vague arrièrepensée, which marks every stroke of Lionardo's brush. Is it the perfection of irony or the perfection of tenderness? What does he mean, what does he affirm, what does he deny? Magic would not be magic if we could explain it. HENRY JAMES. HER face is like the milky way i' the sky, SUCKLING. I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice: 'Venetia, Venetia, то Chi non ti vede non ti pretia.' LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST iv. 2. O take a boat in a pleasant evening, and, with music to row upon the waters, which Plutarch so much applauds, Ælian admires, upon the river Peneus, in those Thessalian fields beset with green bays, where birds so sweetly sing, that passengers, enchanted as it were with their heavenly music, omnium laborum et curarum obliviscantur, forget forthwith all labours, cares, and grief; or in a gundilo through the grand canale in Venice, to see those goodly palaces, must needs refresh and give content to a melancholy dull spirit. BURTON. HUSH! in the canal below THACKERAY. |