Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart, Volum 8Ticknor and Fields, 1869 |
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Memoirs of the life of sir Walter Scott [by J.G. Lockhart]. John Gibson Lockhart Visualització completa - 1839 |
Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart, Volum 8 John Gibson Lockhart Visualització completa - 1869 |
Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart, Volum 8 John Gibson Lockhart Visualització completa - 1839 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Abbotsford Adam Fergusson admiration affairs Anne April Ballantyne beautiful believe Boney breakfast Buonaparte Cadell called Canongate Castle character Charles companion Court creditors Croker dear Diary dined dinner distress doubt Duke of Wellington Edinburgh exertion eyes father favour fear February 21 feelings finished gave give Gourgaud happy heart honour hope hour interest J. G. Lockhart John kind King labour Lady last night late letter literary Lockhart London look Lord Melville Malachi March matter melancholy mind morning Napoleon never novel October old friend pain party perhaps person pleasure poor received recollections scene Scotland Scottish seems Sir Walter Scott sort spirits story suppose sure task Theodore Hook things thought tion to-day told Tom Purdie usual walk Waverley Novels Whig whole William Knighton Woodstock write wrote yesterday young youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 180 - Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal; For it must seem their guilt.
Pàgina 142 - Doeg, though without knowing how or why, Made still a blundering kind of melody; Spurred boldly on, and dashed through thick and thin. Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in...
Pàgina 73 - Well, here I am in Arden. And I may say with Touchstone, "When I was at home I was in a better place ;" I must, when there is occasion, draw to my own Baillie Nicol Jarvie's consolation — " One cannot carry the comforts of the Saut-Market about with one.
Pàgina 74 - May 14. — A fair good-morrow to you, Mr. Sun, who are shining so brightly on these dull walls. Methinks you look as if you were looking as bright on the banks of the Tweed ; but look where you will, Sir Sun, you look upon sorrow and suffering. — Hogg was here yesterday in danger, from having obtained an accommodation of £100 from James Ballantyne, which he is now obliged to repay. I am unable to help the poor fellow, being obliged to borrow myself.
Pàgina 251 - ... myself, like an old fool, with recalling old stories till I was fit for nothing but shedding tears and repeating verses for the whole night. This is sad work. The very grave gives up its dead, and time rolls back thirty years to add to my perplexities. I don't care. I begin to grow case-hardened, and like a stag turning at bay, my naturally good temper grows fierce and dangerous.
Pàgina 42 - I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow Strain I can do myself like any now going ; but the exquisite touch, which renders ordinary commonplace things and characters interesting, from the truth of the description and the sentiment, is denied to me.
Pàgina 274 - ... landscapes in the sea. It was very distressing yesterday, and brought to my mind the fancies of Bishop Berkeley about an ideal world. There was a vile sense of want of reality in all I did and said.
Pàgina 183 - Moeviad squabashed at one blow a set of coxcombs, who might have humbugged the world long enough. As a commentator he was capital, could he but have suppressed his rancours against those who had preceded, him in the task ; but a misconstruction or misinterpretation, nay, the misplacing of a comma, was in Gifford's eyes a crime worthy of the most severe animadversion.
Pàgina 68 - My wits begin to turn. Come on, my boy : how dost, my boy ? art cold ? I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow ? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart That's sorry yet for thee.
Pàgina 171 - Thornton, sometimes 1 chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancies' which alternated in my mind, idly stirred by the succession of a thousand vague thoughts and fears, the gay strangely mingled with those of dismal melancholy ; tears which seemed ready to flow unbidden ; smiles which approached to those of insanity ; all that wild variety of mood which solitude engenders.