The Collected Works of George Moore: Memoirs of my dead life

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subscribers only, 1920

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Page 85 - Que ponctuaient des pieds frappant presque en cadence, Quand la porte s'ouvrit de la salle de danse Vomissant tout un flot dont toi, vers où j'étais, Et de ta voix, qui fait que soudain je me tais, S'il te...
Page 181 - Les péris, les ondines, les fées, les sylphides du vieux temps, les muses de la Grèce, les vierges de marbre de la Certosa...
Page 282 - I am now writing: I believe that again, a few years later, my ashes will swing in the moveless and silent depths of the Pacific ocean, and that the same figures, the same nymphs, and the same fauns will dance around me again.
Page 282 - ... planet. Millions of years will pass away, and the earth, after having lain dead for a long winter, as it does now for a few weeks under frost and snow, will, with all other revolving planets, become absorbed in the sun, and the sun itself will become absorbed in greater suns, Sirius and his like. In matters of grave moment, millions of years are but seconds ; billions convey very little to our minds. At the end of...
Page 24 - part of the world's history,' and I lost sight of all things but the track of my boot on the black crepe de chine. 'Even a pre-sensation of my miserable suffering would not have stopped me,' I cried, starting from my chair and going to the window. I stood there unsuspicious that my cure was coming towards me and that I should find it on the terrace outside overlooking the river in the Savoy Hotel, whither I must go at once, having forgotten to order dinner for the friends who were dining with me...
Page 208 - ... looked at me with that love in her face which an old woman feels for a young man who is something less and something more to her than her son. As a flush of summer lingers in autumn's face, so does a sensation of sex float in such an affection. There is something strangely tender in the yearning of the young man for the decadent charms of her whom he regards as the mother of his election, and who, at the same time, suggests to him the girl he would have loved if time had not robbed him of her...
Page 86 - Crotoy, / Etait rousse, mal grasse et de prestance molle : Elle ne m'adressa guère qu'une parole Et c'était d'un petit cadeau qu'il s'agissait. L'autre, pruneau d'Agen, sans cesse croassait, En revanche, dans son accent d'ail et de poivre, \ '" Une troisième, récemment chanteuse au Havre, Affectait le dandinement des matelots Et m'.

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