The Journal of Sir Walter Scott: From the Original Manuscript at Abbotsford, Volume 1

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Harper & brothers, 1891 - Authors, Scottish - 621 pages
 

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Page 100 - That young lady had a talent for describing the involvements, and feelings, and characters of ordinary life, which is to me the most wonderful 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.
Page 401 - Our elegant researches carried us out of the highroad and through a labyrinth of intricate lanes, which seem made on purpose to afford strangers the full benefit of a dark night and a drunk driver, in order to visit Gill's Hill, in Hertfordshire, famous for the murder of Mr Weare.
Page 56 - Bony mav both go to the paper-maker, and I may take to smoking cigars and drinking grog, or turn devotee, and intoxicate the brain another way.
Page 5 - Moore a scholar, I none ; he a musician and artist, I without knowledge of a note ; he a democrat, I an aristocrat — with many other points of difference ; besides his being an Irishman, I a Scotchman, and both tolerably national. Yet there is a point of resemblance, and a strong one. We are both goodhumoured fellows, who rather seek to enjoy what is going forward than to maintain our dignity as Lions ; and we have both seen the world too widely and too well not to contemn in our souls the imaginary...
Page 214 - I think I shall not live to the usual verge of human existence ; I shall never see the threescore and ten, and shall be summed up at a discount. No help for it, and no matter either.
Page 111 - I hate funerals — always did. There is such a mixture of mummery with real grief — the actual mourner perhaps heart-broken, and all the rest making solemn faces, and whispering observations on the weather and public news, and here and there a greedy fellow enjoying the cake and wine. To me it is a farce of most tragical mirth, and I am not sorry (like Provost Coulter,*) but glad that I shall not see my own.
Page 541 - I have suffered terribly, that is the truth, rather in body than in mind, and I often wish I could lie down and sleep without waking. But I will fight it out if I can.
Page 128 - ... ruins covered and hidden among clouds of foliage and flourish, where the grave, even in the lap of beauty, lay lurking and gaped for its prey. Then the grave looks, the hasty important bustle of men with spades and mattocks — the train of carriages — the coffin containing the creature that was so long the dearest on earth to me, and whom I was to consign to the very spot which in pleasureparties we so frequently visited.
Page 213 - December 16 Another bad night. I remember I used to think a slight illness was a luxurious thing. My pillow was then softened by the hand of affection, and the little cares put in exercise to soothe the languor or pain, were more flattering and pleasing than the consequences of the illness were disagreeable. It was a new scene to be watched and attended, and I used to think that the malade imaginaire gained something by his humour. It is different in...
Page 66 - In 2d place, I have taken a wide difference : my object is not to excite fear of supernatural things in my reader, but to show the effect of such fear upon the agents in the story...

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