Isle of ThornsE. P. Dutton, 1924 - 288 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
adventure Andy's arms asked Billingshurst Black Corner blackberries bread caravan cheek Chelwood Common child cold Cortelyon cottage Dane Hill dark dear door dreams East Grinstead Eliza Huggett eyes face father feel felt flung Forest gentleman tramp gipsy girl gone hair hand Hayling Island Haywards Heath head heart hedges hope hour idea Isle of Thorns kissed knew laugh Legsheath light Lindfield looked Maresfield merry-go-round Miss Odiarne mist Moore morning Neddy Neddy's Nellie never night Old Stanger once Petersfield poor Raphael realized remembered road round Rowfant Sally Sally's seed of love seemed seized Selsey sleep smell somehow soon Stanger's Show stared stars stood strange sudden suddenly surprised tears tell there's thing thought thrill Tishbite told took Towncreep tramp voice walked wind window Wittering woman wondered woods young
Popular passages
Page 97 - Son of man, behold, I take away from thee the desire of thine eyes with a stroke: yet neither shalt thou mourn nor weep, neither shall thy tears run down.
Page 1 - To glorify their Tempe, bred in me Desire of visiting that paradise. To Thessaly I came, and living private, Without acquaintance of more sweet companions Than the old inmates to my love, my thoughts, I day by day frequented silent groves And solitary walks.
Page 13 - And then my Lute shall sound that same ; But if till then my fingers play, By thy desert their wonted way, Blame not my Lute ! Farewell ! unknown ; for though thou break My strings in spite with great disdain, Yet have I found out for thy sake, Strings for to string my Lute again : And if perchance this silly rhyme, Do make thee blush at any time, Blame not my Lute.
Page 91 - ... by riding with a Messenger, and advance in Politics by mounting of a Mule, run through all Sorts of Learning in a Waggon, and sound all Depths of Arts in a Felucca, ride post into the Secrets of all States, and grow acquainted with their close Designs in Inns and Hostleries ; for certainly there is great Virtue in Highways and Hedges to make an able Man, and a good Prospect cannot but let him see far into Things.
Page 192 - ... had been to sit down with her shards and shreds. She would arise and pick up boldly what she had let drop out of folly and weakness. All was not over because she and Andy had had an idiotic misunderstanding — life swept such things away as the sea swept the pebbles from the shore. She had come out to seek death, and had found life. Who can stand against life, the green sea that tumbles round one's limbs and tears up like matchwood the breakwaters one has built ? — There, kneeling drenched...
Page 202 - Or would it die or fade away, Would you care for it and tend it every day Till the time...
Page 192 - ... somehow of the water round her knees. She was now running through the surf, her arms outstretched, her head thrown back, her whole body romping with the sea. The waves roared into her ears, the splash of her legs was rhythm, the sob of the wind was music — the very sunshine seemed full of sound. For one brief moment the world was nothing but sea — the sight, the sound, the smell, the touch, the taste of sea. Then suddenly she flung...
Page 191 - It was ecstacy to curl her wet feet in their brine — her face was stung with their spray, her brain drunk with their glory. At her side was a breakwater, smashed by the storm, huge beams lying tossed like matches on the beach — there were rocks worn hollow by the ceaseless swell. A great cloud of spume burst over her, whipped her cheeks, stung her eyes, sent her staggering and splashing in the water that foamed up to her knees. Once again she shouted for joy. "Thank God, I have lived ! I have...
Page 167 - I am true love that fals was nevere ; My sister, mannes soule, I loved her thus ; Because we wolde in no wise discevere, I lefte my kingdom glorious. I purveide for her a paleis precious ; Sche fleith, I folowe, I soughte her so j I suffrede this peine piteuous, Quia amore langueo.
Page 171 - Her retrospect rang with the thud of hoofs on frosty roads, the lurch and rumble of a cart, with wild words and kisses, screams and escapes — it smelled of bonfires, of half-frozen dew, of pungent leaf-strewn woods — it tasted of stream water, earthy and leafy, of rainy blackberries.