American CriticismWilliam A. Drake Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1926 - 368ÆäÀÌÁö |
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14 ÆäÀÌÁö
... believe him . His opinions were no good unless he could back them up . Now that he is dead , emotion does seem to be taking the place of reason , opinion is driving out principle , and impressionism has made off with the art and science ...
... believe him . His opinions were no good unless he could back them up . Now that he is dead , emotion does seem to be taking the place of reason , opinion is driving out principle , and impressionism has made off with the art and science ...
44 ÆäÀÌÁö
... believe that a collection of weekly articles by any other contemporary critic could stand up against these without suffering . Of course , the defects of Critical Woodcuts stand out clearly enough : Stuart Sherman has but little sense ...
... believe that a collection of weekly articles by any other contemporary critic could stand up against these without suffering . Of course , the defects of Critical Woodcuts stand out clearly enough : Stuart Sherman has but little sense ...
45 ÆäÀÌÁö
William A. Drake. criticism . I am old - fashioned enough to believe that in the practice of that no one can be a good critic of literature in English without a certain training in Greek and Roman literature , particularly in Latin , the ...
William A. Drake. criticism . I am old - fashioned enough to believe that in the practice of that no one can be a good critic of literature in English without a certain training in Greek and Roman literature , particularly in Latin , the ...
55 ÆäÀÌÁö
... Believe ! You may vanish as have other great dreams , but even so , what a glorious , an imperishable memory ! " Whit- man would not say it much better , or differently . ¡¤ In another mood he is sure that " no nation has ever ...
... Believe ! You may vanish as have other great dreams , but even so , what a glorious , an imperishable memory ! " Whit- man would not say it much better , or differently . ¡¤ In another mood he is sure that " no nation has ever ...
62 ÆäÀÌÁö
William A. Drake. PSEUDO - LITERATURE1 By WALDO FRANK HE TERM , I believe , is Schopenhauer's . He declared that there are two streams of T writing , for the most part indistinguishably merged save for a very few . One of these , the ...
William A. Drake. PSEUDO - LITERATURE1 By WALDO FRANK HE TERM , I believe , is Schopenhauer's . He declared that there are two streams of T writing , for the most part indistinguishably merged save for a very few . One of these , the ...
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admired Adrienne Ahab allotrope American Anatole Arthur Symons artist beauty become better British Byron called Cavour character civilization color creative critic culture delight divine Dôme Doughty's dream Dreiser Edith Wharton emotion England English esthetic expression eyes Ezra Pound fact feel fiction France French fugitive verse genius George Santayana H. L. MENCKEN heart Henry James human humor imagination intellectual John Masefield land Lardner less literary literature look lyric Masefield matter Melville merely mind Miss Moby Dick modern moral never novel novelist once Paris passion perhaps phrase play poems poet poetic poetry politics prose Puritan reader Santayana seems sense Shelley sort soul spirit Spoon River Anthology story Stuart Sherman Symons taste things thou thought tion ture verse vision Wendell wonder words write written wrote young youth
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273 ÆäÀÌÁö - By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men, Their trampling sounded nearer. " O haste thee, haste! " the lady cries, ' ' Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.
279 ÆäÀÌÁö - The sword, the banner, and the field, Glory and Greece, around me see! The Spartan, borne upon his shield, Was not more free. Awake! (not Greece — she is awake!) Awake, my spirit! Think through whom Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake. And then strike home!
314 ÆäÀÌÁö - Perhaps they were; or perhaps there might have been shoals of them in the far horizon; but lulled into such an opium-like listlessness of vacant, unconscious reverie is this absent-minded youth by the blending cadence of waves with thoughts, that at last he loses his identity; takes the mystic ocean at his feet for the visible image of that deep, blue, bottomless soul, pervading mankind and nature...
325 ÆäÀÌÁö - Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.
286 ÆäÀÌÁö - Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again; Would that breast by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!
xiv ÆäÀÌÁö - Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks: methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam...
300 ÆäÀÌÁö - I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there's a pair of us — don't tell! They'd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody ! How public, like a frog, To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog!
269 ÆäÀÌÁö - THE FUGITIVES. THE waters are flashing, The white hail is dashing, The lightnings are glancing, The hoar-spray is dancing — Away ! The whirlwind is rolling, The thunder is tolling, The forest is swinging, The minster bells ringing — Come away ! The Earth is like Ocean, Wreck-strewn and in motion : Bird, beast, man and worm Have crept out of the storm — Come away ! a. " Our boat has one sail, And the helmsman is pale ; — A bold pilot I trow, Who should follow us now...
314 ÆäÀÌÁö - But while this sleep, this dream is on ye, move your foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at all; and your identity comes back in horror. Over Descartian vortices you hover. And perhaps, at mid-day, in the fairest weather, with one half-throttled shriek you drop through that transparent air into the summer sea, no more to rise for ever. Heed it well, ye Pantheists!
188 ÆäÀÌÁö - Surely whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him or her I shall follow, As the water follows the moon, silently, with fluid steps, anywhere around the globe.