Elizabeth L Quotes

Elizabeth, With my compliments. You will never get your claws into another one of mine. Rot in hell, L Nïx clasped her hands over her chest, sighing, “He gave you his heart. That’s so romantic. So much better than a candy heart. Those get stuck in the fangs, you know.

You are the only person who loves me in the world," said Elizabeth. "When you talk to me I smell violets.

Never would I take what I’d been given for granted. I’d never look at her through indifferent eyes, listen to her fears and worries with distant ears, or touch her with impassive hands. Elizabeth was a gift and Lizzie was my treasure. I would adore my family until the day I died.

It is extraordinarily entertaining to watch the historians of the past ... entangling themselves in what they were pleased to call the "problem" of Queen Elizabeth. They invented the most complicated and astonishing reasons both for her success as a sovereign and for her tortuous matrimonial policy. She was the tool of Burleigh, she was the tool of Leicester, she was the fool of Essex; she was diseased, she was deformed, she was a man in disguise. She was a mystery, and must have some extraordinary solution. Only recently has it occrurred to a few enlightened people that the solution might be quite simple after all. She might be one of the rare people were born into the right job and put that job first.

The Woman had told her that Tomorrow never comes, but Elizabeth knows better. It will come sometime. Some beautiful morning she will just wake up and find it is Tomorrow. Not Today but Tomorrow. And then things will happen…wonderful things.

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...just because I don't have on a silly black costume and carry a silly broom and wear a silly black hat, doesn't mean that I'm not a witch. I'm a witch all the time and not just on Halloween.

Maybe now I really understood why Elizabeth had run from me all of these months, why she would never allow herself to believe. A love as intense as the one we shared, one that had not dimmed through years of betrayal but had only grown, was terrifying. We had the power to destroy, to devastate and ruin, to lay the other to waste. But I wasn’t running.

It's a funny phenomenon. You can never visit your own funeral, but if you want to see how people feel about you, commit a crime.

Oh, Aunt Elizabeth," said Emily breathlessly, "when you hold the candle down like that it makes your face look just like a corpse! Oh, it's so interesting.

Do little things every day that no one else seems to want to do, be patient, and success will find you.

I will never accept life for what it is. I don't need an easy life. My road was meant to be hard because anything worth having in this world will take me to the very edge of myself. I will overcome everything I have ever gone through and will make my future the one God intended me to have. I will pick up the pieces of this pain and sculpt it into art. I am not ordinary and never was. I walk into my birthright as a queen with her head held high. I was born to do this!

Or she may find out what is at the end of the harbor road…that wandering, twisting road like a nice red snake, that leads, so Elizabeth thinks, to the end of the world. Perhaps the Island of Happiness is there.

I made myself a glass of chocolate milk using enough syrup for three normal glasses. I also made myself four peanut butter crackers. Then I walked out the living room door to our terrace. The trees were coming! New green was all over ... green so new that it was kissing yellow.

No matter what the industry you choose to ultimately invest all your time and energy in, be sure you're the owner, founder, and CEO. Remember, if you don't own it, you can't control it nor can you depend on it.

I'm not supposed to date you, Jenny." "That's what you said before." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I didn't think this was going to be a problem. I mean, I'm pretty good at not letting someone become important to me. I have to be if I want to make it to L.A." "I understand." He laughed. "How nice of you to understand, since you're the one making it a struggle for me! It would be so easy to make you important.

Răspunsul e în inima ta,spuse ea blând.Matale poți să-l auzi întotdeauna ,dacă stai să-l asculți .

There were a rare few in this world who could stop me in my tracks, but it was only Elizabeth who could bring me to my knees.

[...] Cousin Jimmy gave me a whole dollar on the sly last week. I wish he had not given me so much. It worrys me. It is an awful responsibility. It will be so diffikult to spend it wisely also without Aunt Elizabeth finding out about it. I hope I shall never have a million dollars. I am sure it would crush me utterly.

This is my night for being Betty, because I love everything in the world tonight. I was Elizabeth last night, and tomorrow night I'll probably be Beth. It all depends on how I feel.' ... 'How very nice to have a name you can change so easily and still feel it's your own.

[speaking of a friend named Lavendar Lewis] 'I think her parents gave her the only right and fitting name that could possibly be given her,' said Anne. 'If they had been so blind as to name her Elizabeth or Nellie or Muriel she must have been called Lavendar just the same, I think. It's so suggestive of sweetness and old-fashioned graces and "silk attire." Now, my name just smacks of bread and butter, patchwork and chores.' 'Oh, I don't think so,' said Diana. 'Anne seems to me real stately and like a queen. But I'd like Kerenhappuch if it happened to be your name. I think people make their names nice or ugly just by what they are themselves. I can't bear Josie or Gertie for names now but before I knew the Pye girls I thought them real pretty.' 'That's a lovely idea, Diana,' said Anne enthusiastically. 'Living so that you beautify your name, even if it wasn't beautiful to begin with...making it stand in people's thoughts for something so lovely and pleasant that they never think of it by itself. Thank you, Diana.

The last line of the Divine Comedy, in which Dante is faced with the vision of God Himself, is a sentiment that is still easily understandable by anyone familiar with so-called modern Italian. Dante writes that God is not merely a blinding vision of glorious light, but that He is, most of all, l'amour che move il sole e l'altre stelle...'The love that moves the sun and the other stars.

If consumers weren’t so focused on quantity over quality and trends over innovative design, the price of domestic production might not seem so exorbitant.

The chances are that, being a woman, young, And pure, with such a pair of large, calm eyes, You write as well...and ill...upon the whole, As other women. If as well, what then? If even a little better,..still, what then? We want the Best in art now, or no art." (L144-149)

But you see, the problem is that apologies are really just little weeds that grow over monuments and headstones. They keep coming back, but never stop ruining what lies beneath. If an apology is truly authentic, the pain is supposed to stop. Right?

I had no choice but to accept these voices and images as my gift. My ability. Their energy engrossed my music. I played passionately for them. To set them free. They were part of my life now. I didn't chose them, they chose me."...Elizabeth (DESCENDANT– chapter 2)

Elizabeth sank into the leather wing chair in the library of her mind and began to read.

But I knew... I knew I was the only one who fit I that void, because it was Elizabeth that perfectly filled mine, too.

I've always thought about the theatre like a Christmas tree, all shining and bright with beautiful ornaments. But now it seems like a Christmas tree with the tinsel all tarnished and the colored balls all fallen off and broken...' Sure, I know what you mean...And it's both ways...Some of the ornaments fall and break and some stay clear and bright. Some of the tinsel gets tarnished and some stays shining and beautiful like the night before Christmas. Nothing's ever all one way. You know that. It's all mixed up and you've just got to find the part that's right for you.' —Elizabeth and Ben

Je n'ai jamais cessé, tout au long de ma vie, de rechercher l'aide d'un homme. Je l'ai trouvée souvent et, plus souvent encore, elle m'a fait défaut.

My fairytale was full of witches, pixies, pirates, dementors, princesses, clowns, true love, betrayal, battles and kings. Yet, I stood on the edge of never and with the bravery of a queen I could see across forever....and I whisphered to the wind, "Morals of great stories didn’t live in kindness. They bloomed from the ashes of who you were to where you were meant to be."

Such presumption," said Aunt Laura, meaning for a Dix to aspire to a Murray. "It wasn't because of his presumption I packed him off," said Emily. "It was because of the way he made love. He made a thing ugly that should have been beautiful." "I suppose you wouldn't have him because he didn't propose romantically," said Aunt Elizabeth contemptuously. "No. I think my real reason was that I felt sure he was the kind of man who would give his wife a vacuum cleaner for a Christmas present," vowed Emily.

Clothes could have more meaning and longevity if we think less about owning the latest or cheapest thing and develop more of a relationship with the things we wear. Building a wardrobe over time, saving up and investing in well-made pieces, obsessing over the perfect hem, luxuriating in fabrics, and patching and altering our clothes are old-fashioned habits. But they’re also deeply satisfying

When ideas are detached from the media used to transmit them, they are also cut off from the historical circumstances that shape them, and it becomes difficult to perceive the changing context within which they must be viewed.

In return, Giovanni told me that empathizing Italians say L'ho provato sulla mia pelle, which means 'I have experienced that on my own skin.' Meaning, I have also been burned or scarred in this way, and I know exactly what you're going through.

‎I was born in the US and l have lived in Mexico since 1946. I believe that all these states of being have influenced my work and made it what you see today. I am inspired by Black people and Mexican people, my two peoples. My art speaks for both my peoples

Travel is as much a passion as ambition or love.

It’s funny how undressed a smile can make you feel.

Buying so much clothing, and treating it as if it is disposable, is putting a huge added weight on the environment and is simply unsustainable.

There was no reason for Elizabeth Knoebel to suspect that this was going to be the last day of her life.

Aunt Elizabeth came in. “Emily, the rock-crystal goblet! Your Grandmother Murray’s goblet! And you have broken it!” “No, really. Aunty dear, I didn’t. Mr. Greaves — Mr. Mark Delage Greaves did it. He threw it at the stove.” “Threw it at the stove!” Aunt Elizabeth was staggered. “Why did he throw it at the stove?” “Because I wouldn’t marry him,” said Emily. “Marry him! Did you ever see him before?” “Never.” Aunt Elizabeth gathered up the fragments of the crystal goblet and went out quite speechless. There was — there must be — something wrong with a girl when a man proposed marriage to her at first meeting. And hurled heirloom goblets at inoffensive stoves.

is precisely for these reasons that De Roover calls both secularism and liberalism secularised versions of Christian onto-epistemology, obscured by the employment of secularism itself as a filter to understand history. De Roover is not alone in holding this view. There are others, such as Carl L. Becker, S.J. Barnett and Elizabeth S. Hurd, who believe that at the very least the evidence to support the common assumption that the Enlightenment was a move away from Christianity towards secular reason is as far as it can get from being conclusive. That the secularisation of the Enlightenment is perhaps the consequence of a retrospective approach to history, appears to be the more plausible argument. This is because several of the leading Enlightenment thinkers were pious Christians in a society heavily committed to Christianity, whose philosophies were significantly more influenced

Jury trials are really nothing more than poorly written stage plays. You’ve got two authors writing opposing narratives and a director who is paid not to care about either outcome. Hired actors sit on either end of the stage, while unwitting audience members strive to remain quiet. No applause should be rendered, no gasps of glory. Witnesses sit agape with fury as they stumble across their rehearsed lines. If only they had practiced just once more. If only they had more time or a dress rehearsal, then they would recite their packaged words with such eloquent delivery that the critics in the jury box would believe only them.

Possiamo ridurre le spese? Ritieni che ci sia qualche cosa di cui si possa fare a meno?". E, a onor del vero, Elizabeth, con l'ardore improvviso delle donne, si era messa seriamente a pensare a cosa sarebbe stato possibile fare, ed aveva suggerito di tagliare qualche inutile oblazione benefica e di evitare l'acquisto di nuovi arredi per il salotto. Successivamente, a queste due proposte, aveva aggiunto la felice trovata di non comprare il regalo che tutti gli anni portavano ad Anne tornando da Londra.

Ora so che l'amore è l'unica cosa che valga davvero la pena di avere. Tutto il resto, talento, lavoro, arte, religione, conoscenza e tutti gli altri terreni affanni altro non sono che rimedi con i quali coloro che non amano, coloro che non sono amati, tentano di attenuare le loro pene, di anestetizzarsi.

On récolte ce que l’on sème. That

There are occasions upon which a candid expression of opinion may be not only rude, but counterproductive. L

Over the past two decades, American consumers have accepted, and benefited from, the race to the bottom in fashion.

Penso che risulterebbe stancante essere legati per l'eternità al culmine dei momenti più ispirati dei massimi scrittori. Altitudini come quelle sarebbero inadatte a insetti come me. Su questi libri elevati me ne starei aggrappata alla bell'e meglio, con la testa e le ali penzolanti. E forse che anche l'anima non ha voglia, di tanto in tanto, di mettersi in vestaglia?

Dante writes that God is not merely a blinding vision of glorious light, but that He is, most of all, l’amor che move il sole e l’altre stelle… “The love that moves the sun and the other stars.

There are very few high-quality garments being produced at all. A very, very, very small amount. So small that most people never even see it in their lifetimes. People are wearing rags, basically.

Aunt Elizabeth,” she cried, “the kitten wasn’t drowned after all—and I am going to keep it.” “You’re not,” said Aunt Elizabeth. Emily looked her aunt in the face. Again she felt that odd sensation that had come when Aunt Elizabeth brought the scissors to cut her hair. “Aunt Elizabeth, this poor little kitten is cold and starving, and oh, so miserable. It has been suffering for hours. It shall not be drowned again.

Presi in disparte Ryan, sistemandogli la cravatta per non dare nell’occhio. «Fammi un favore. Resta qui e, quando mi girerò verso di te, fissami nella maniera più tenebrosa e scocciata che puoi». «Tenebrosa?». «Sì, beh… hai presente, no?». «No». Gli riassestai il bavero del cappotto, cercando una definizione che non scadesse nel solito stereotipo. «Guardami come se fossi un vampiro cattivo». Ryan si lasciò scappare una risata monosillabica alla Al Pacino. «Tu vuoi lo sguardo di un voivoda, e io non lo sono mai stato». «Improvvisa». Il vampiro piegò il capo in un gesto d’intesa. «Sei tu la stratega, Elizabeth». Masticò il mio appellativo, spolpandolo fino a raschiarne il nocciolo. Com’è che si dice? Se vuoi qualcosa, o qualcuno, prima devi far tuo il suo nome. Quel millenario, nel più assurdo dei momenti, e nel più sbagliato dei luoghi, aveva fatto l’amore con tutte e nove le lettere del mio.

Eppure l'amore all'inizio è una cosa bella, una cosa dolce e cara. Ma proprio come un gattino, che da piccolo ti delizia con i suoi modi teneri e amabili, con la sua innocenza, morbidezza e mansuetudine, si trasforma con spaventosa rapidità in un gatto che ti artiglia crudelmente. Vorrei sapere se esiste una sola persona al mondo, all'apparenza felice e indifferente, che non abbia ben nascosti sotto abiti e ornamenti i segni degli artigli dell'amore. Credo anche che si tratti di graffi così profondi che sanguinano a lungo, senza rimarginarsi; e quando, dopo anni, finalmente guariscono, rimane sempre una cicatrice, rossa e terribile, che fa trasalire quando inavvertitamente la si tocca.

Everything was so beautiful in this magical moment before sunrise. The wild blue irises around the pond, the violet shadows in the curves of the dunes, the white, filmy mist hanging over the buttercup valley across the pond, the cloth of gold and silver thtat was called a field of daisies, thye cool, delicious gulf breeze, the blue of far lands beyond the harbour, plumes of purple and mauve smoke going up on the still, golden air from the chimneys of Stovepipe Town where the fishermen rose early. And Teddy lying at her feet, his slim brown hands clasped behind his head. Again she felt thye magnetic attraction of his personality. Felt it so strongly that she dared not meet his eyes. Yet she was admitting to herself with a secret cadour which would have horrified Aunt Elizabeth that she wanted to run her fingers through his sleek black hair- feel his arms about her- press her face against his dark tender ne- feel his lips on her lips- Teddy took one of his hands from under his head and put it over hers.

Ah! relevons-nous, et quittons-la pour jamais, reclamons la misericorde de Dieu, et esperons en elle qu'elle nous assistera pour desormais estre plus fermes; et remettons-nous au chemin de l'humilite. Courage, soyons meshuy sur nos gardes, Dieu nous aydera.

Carbon monoxide and other pollutants from Asia have been documented on the West Coast since the late 1990s and are actually affecting weather patterns there as well. Global climate change as a result of global industrialization is now a reality, no matter where we live. I

There's another wonderful Italian expression: l'arte d'arrangiarsi-the art of making something out of nothing. The art of turning a few simple ingredients into a feast,or a few gathered friends into a festival. Anyone with a talent of happiness can do this, not only the rich.

...and there is such honesty and innocence to her voice I want to hold her. The bedside lamplight is a rich golden color, and it is falling on her face in a way that makes it seem gilded. For a moment, L.D. looks to me like an angel. Another case of illusion only being the larger truth.

Escúchame bien, Ryan Galantine. Cuando ese bastardo te vuelva a llamar, dile que ha ganado este asalto. Me casaré con éL Pero no me gusta que me chantajeen, y dile que pasaré el resto de mi vida haciendo miserable la suya. ¿Lo has entendido? Ryan se incorporó sobre las almohadas. Parecía soñoliento y vertido. Sugar Beth insistió. _ Hablo en serio. Si tanto quiere este matrimonio, lo tendrá pero más le vale estar preparado para sufrir las consecuencias. _ Se dio la vuelta, se dirigió hacia la puerta, bajó las escaleras y se marchó. Ryan miró a su mujer. _ Se merecen uno al otro.

In this world, you are either good or evil. If not, then a court or a teacher or a parent is bound to tag your identity before you've had a chance to figure it out on your own. The gray middle ground, that mucous-thin terrain where most of life resides, is really only a temporary annex, like gestation or purgatory.

...Quando aveva appena quindici anni, a Londra, da mio fratello Gardiner, c'era un gentiluomo ... ma le dedicò dei versi molto belli." "E così spense la sua passione" disse Elizabeth con impazienza. "Ce n'è stata più d'una, immagino, superata allo stesso modo. Vorrei sapere chi fu il primo a scoprire l'efficacia della poesia per scacciare l'amore!" "Ho sempre pensato che la poesia fosse il nutrimento dell'amore" disse Darcy. "Per un grande amore, deciso e forte, forse lo sarà. Tutto serve a nutrire ciò che è già forte. Ma se si tratta di una leggera infatuazione, sono convinta che basti un buon sonetto a farla deperire." Darcy si limitò a sorridere ... .

I can't even begin to count the ways that is disgusting. I'll try. In fact, I'll go alphabetically." "Noa." "Arrogant. Beastly. Criminal. Devilish. Empty and evil." My chest climbed up and down with breath. "There's two for E, because it's so exceptionally, egregiously, egotistically erroneous." "Let me just explain." "Felonious. Grotesque.

In the summer, on fine evenings, I love to drive late and alone in the scented forests, and when I have reached a dark part stop, and sit quite still, listening to the nightingales repeating their little tune over and over aga^n after interludes of gurgling, or if there are no nightingales, listening to the marvellous silence, and letting its blessedness descend into my very souL The nightingales in the forests about here all sing the same tune, and in the same key of (E flat).

Ces femmes acceptent de se faire battre avec une simplicité digne des plus grands éloges. Loin de se sentir insultées, elles admirent la force et l'énergie d'hommes capables de leur administrer des corrections aussi sonores. En Russie, les hommes ne sont pas seulement autorisés à battre leurs femmes, ils ont appris dès le catéchisme - et on le leur a rappelé lors de la confirmation -, qu'il est nécessaire de les battre au moins une fois la semaine si l'on est vraiment soucieux de leur santé et de leur bien être.

I wanted to get as far as my proto-dream-house, my crypto-dream-house, that crooked box set up on pilings, shingled green, a sort of artichoke of a house, but greener (boiled with bicarbonate of soda?), protected from spring tides by a palisade of—are they railroad ties? (Many things about this place are dubious.) I’d like to retire there and do nothing, or nothing much, forever, in two bare rooms: look through binoculars, read boring books, old, long, long books, and write down useless notes, talk to myself, and, foggy days, watch the droplets slipping, heavy with light. At night, a grog à l’américaine.

J'ai une passion pour les tulipes, plus que pour aucune autre fleur de printemps; gaies, robustes, gracieuses, elles semblent de jeunes filles sortant du bain à côté des jacinthes, ces femmes aux formes opulentes dont chaque mouvement sature l'air de patchouli. Leur parfum, délicat et léger, est un comble de raffinement. Existe-t-il au monde rien de plus charmant que l'ardeur avec laquelle elles tendent leurs petits visages vers le soleil ? On les a taxées de prétention, et de vanité, alors que pour moi elles sont toute grâce et modestie, et ne sont coupables que de vouloir jouir de la vie sans craindre de regarder le soleil en face.

Les gens que j'aime sont toujours loin de moi, et dans l'impossibilité de venir me trouver, alors que je peux à tout instant remplir la maison d'hôtes dont je ne me soucie pas le moins du monde. Peut-être, si je les voyais plus souvent, aimerais-je moins ces amis absents - du moins est-ce ce que je pense lorsque le vent hurle autour de la maison et que la nature paraît submergée de chagrin. Il m'est d'ailleurs arrivé quelquefois de souhaiter ne pas revoir de dix ans des amis pourtant très proches. Sans doute n'est-il pas d'amitié si forte qu'elle puisse résister à l'épreuve du petit déjeuner auquel, à la campagne, chacun se sent obligé de paraître.

That all you got, Bert?” said Mary Poppins, and she said it so brightly you could hardly tell she was disappointed at all. “That’s the lot,” he said. “Business is bad today. You’d think anybody’d be glad to pay to see that, wouldn’t you?” And he nodded his head at Queen Elizabeth. “Well—that’s how it is, Mary,” he sighed. “Can’t take you to tea today, I’m afraid.” Mary Poppins thought of the raspberry-jam-cakes they always had on her Day Out, and she was just going to sigh, when she saw the Match-Man’s face. So, very cleverly, she turned the sigh into a smile—a good one with both ends turned up—and said: “That’s all right, Bert. Don’t you mind. I’d much rather not go to tea. A stodgy meal, I call it—really.” And that, when you think how very much she liked raspberry-jam-cakes, was rather nice of Mary Poppins. The Match-Man apparently thought so, too, for he took her white-gloved hand in his and squeezed it hard. Then together they walked down the row of pictures. “Now, there’s one you’ve never seen before!” said the Match-Man proudly, pointing to a painting of a mountain covered with snow and its slopes simply littered with grasshoppers sitting on gigantic roses. This time Mary Poppins could indulge in a sigh without hurting his feelings. “Oh, Bert,” she said, “that’s a fair treat!” And by the way she said it she made him feel that by rights the picture should have been in the Royal Academy, which is a large room where people hang the pictures they have painted. Everybody comes to see them, and when they have looked at them for a very long time, everybody says to everybody else: “The idea—my dear!” The next picture Mary Poppins and the Match-Man came to was even better. It was the country—all trees and grass and a little bit of blue sea in the distance, and something that looked like Margate in the background. “My word!” said Mary Poppins admiringly, stooping so that she could see it better. “Why, Bert, whatever is the matter?” For the Match-Man had caught hold of her other hand now, and was looking very excited.

On the day of the funeral, Marble Collegiate Church was filled to capacity. During the service, from beginning to end, everyone had a role to play. It was all extremely well choreographed. Elizabeth read my grandfather’s “favorite poem,” and the rest of the siblings gave eulogies, as did my brother, who spoke on behalf of my dad, and my cousin David, who represented the grandchildren. Mostly they told stories about my grandfather, although my brother was the only one who came close to humanizing him. For the most part, in ways both oblique and direct, the emphasis was on my grandfather’s material success, his “killer” instinct, and his talent for saving a buck. Donald was the only one to deviate from the script. In a cringe-inducing turn, his eulogy devolved into a paean to his own greatness. It was so embarrassing that Maryanne later told her son not to allow any of her siblings to speak at her funeral.

Aunt Elizabeth was one of those people who never do understand anything unless it is told them in plain language and hammered into their heads. And thy they understand it only with their brains and not with their hearts.

Non riuscì più a distogliere lo sguardo dalla sua immagine riflessa. Osservò quella pessima casa che l'ospitava e si rese conto che per quanto fosse caustica quell'abitazione — quel corpo — aveva sempre fatto il suo dovere, muovendosi. [...] Le intenzioni del suo corpo non erano così cattive. Forse c'erano destini peggiori di essere intrappolat* all'interno di quel corpo per sempre.

Quando gli chiesero un commento sul vulcano, il candidato repubblicano alla presidenza rispose che se fosse stato eletto presidente, avrebbe reso l'America di nuovo libera dai vulcani.

[...] con il progredire di quegli eventi si convinse sempre più che questa Terra era la stessa Terra che era sempre esistita. Che l'assurdità di quegli avvenimenti non era, sulla carta, meno ordinaria delle assurdità riscontrate in tutta la storia dell'umanità. [...] La Terra, pur essendo alterata da quegli strani avvenimenti, restava inalterata.

You’re calling me a disability, I heard her say. You’re calling me your disability. I couldn’t get it out of my head. Motherhood is your problem. The thing holding you back. No, I wanted to scream. It’s not holding me back. It’s society that isn’t helping people, pregnant or disabled. It’s not the injury or the medical condition or pregnancy or even motherhood that is a disability. It’s society that is disabling people by not creating a level playing field.

The sonnets are so problematic for the traditional theory of authorship that some scholars have tried to dismiss them, arguing that they are merely poetic fictions—literary exercises through which Shakespeare could display his technical virtuosity—and not about him at all. “It is better to read the sonnets for universal values than to lose their poetry by turning them into riddles about Shakespeare’s biography,” warned the scholar C. L. Barber. But sonnets—whether John Donne’s Holy Sonnets struggling with his faith or John Milton’s meditation on his blindness—tend to be highly personal poems.

The editor of a 1793 edition of Shakespeare’s works simply omitted the sonnets because “the strongest act of Parliament that could be framed would fail to compel readers into their service.” Scholars continued wringing their hands well into the twentieth century. “The story Shakespeare recounts of his moral—or rather his immoral—predicament… must certainly, in the interests of the British Empire, be smothered up,” the critic L. P. Smith concluded in 1933.

A fog is creeping up the harbor tonight, blotting out the red road that little Elizabeth wants to explore. Weeds and leaves are burning in all the town gardens and the combination of smoke and fog is making Spook’s Lane an eerie, fascinating, enchanted place. It is growing late and my bed says, ‘I have sleep for you.’ I’ve grown used to climbing a flight of steps into bed... and climbing down them.

Una regina non possiede niente che la distingua da una donna qualsiasi! Un identico simbolo la incatena allo stesso dovere, alla stessa soggezione... L'anello è il simbolo del matrimonio, e tanti anelli in fila formano una catena. Portatelo in dono al vostro signore. Non è ancora una catena, non mi lega ancora ma potrà tramutarsi nel cerchio che mi terrà prigioniera.

Il s’avéra que Chris s’était trompé et que Donna avait vu juste. Chris Hudson se retrouve inconfortablement coincé sur un canapé, avec Ibrahim, qu’il a déjà rencontré, d’un côté, et Joyce, sa taille minuscule, son air enjoué et ses cheveux blancs, de l’autre. Très clairement ce canapé ne compte que deux places et demie et quand il a été offert à Chris de s’y installer il s’est exécuté en supposant qu’il ne le partagerait qu’avec une seule personne. Mais ensuite, avec une grâce et une vélocité auxquelles il ne s’était pas attendu de la part de deux personnes percevant une pension de retraite depuis si longtemps, Ibrahim et Joyce s’étaient glissés de part et d’autre de lui, ce qui l’avait conduit à la situation présente. S’il avait su, il aurait décliné la proposition et pris l’un des fauteuils désormais occupés par Ron Ritchie, qui paraît plus alerte que la dernière fois qu’il l’a vu, et par la terrifiante Elizabeth. Dont on peut vraiment dire qu’elle ne tolère aucun refus.

She had cried as she expressed how she genuinely believed her sister Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had a timeless sort of love. The kind that the poets wrote about, the authors, drafted books about, and women dreamed about one day having as their own.

Qualche ora dopo, durante quella notte fuori del tempo, ho riconosciuto e accettato il suo amore incondizionato e mi sono sentita libera, per la prima volta da quando sono al mondo, di essere soltanto me stessa. Gli anni mi sono scivolati di dosso e sono diventata senza età, libera dalle ansie che mi porto dietro da una vita: l'ansia di non dare abbastanza, di non fare la mia parte, di non essere ciò che ci si aspetta da me. Ripensando a tutte le barriere che ho alzato finora, quando mi sono trovata davanti a qualcuno che voleva entrare in intimità con me, mi rendo conto di essere stata per loro un'estranea. Con lui non mi sono sentita un'estranea, e il suo essere estraneo a me è un piacere e un mistero in uguale misura.

I am glad to say that Aunt Elizabeth and Aunt Laura both aprove of my friendship with Ilse.

On the first day of 1752, a new baby was born. Her parents were Samuel and Rebecca Griscom. They named their baby Elizabeth, but soon everyone called her Betsy.

Not responding?” she asks. “Is your wife breathing?” “l don’t think so.

A reading list that Jefferson first drafted in 1771, five years before he wrote the Declaration, provided an answer. Jefferson sent the list to his friend Robert Skipwith, who had asked for books to include in a private library, and revised it over the years. Under the category of “religion,” Jefferson’s reading list includes Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations, as well as a top ten list of other works of classical and Enlightenment moral philosophy:11 Locke’s Conduct of the Understanding in the Search of Truth. Xenophon’s memoirs of Socrates, translated by Sarah Fielding. Epictetus, translated by Elizabeth Carter. Marcus Aurelius, translated by Collins. Seneca, translated by Roger L’Estrange. Cicero’s Offices, by Guthrie. Cicero’s Tusculan questions. Ld.

I’ve shopped incredible consignment stores in rather obscure places, like Tyler, Texas, where the owner of the fabulous My Sister’s Room

Guardar ressentimento é como tomar veneno e esperar que a outra pessoa morra.

Darling,” Elizabeth’s eyes laughed up at him. “Did you think I believed you came by your prowess naturally?

Questa è la fattoria Hale. Ecco la vecchia stalla per la mungitura, l’entrata buia che dice Vieni a cercarmi. Ecco la banderuola, la catasta di legna. Ecco la casa, echeggiante di storie. È presto. Il falco vola lento nel cielo sgombro. Una sottile piuma blu volteggia nel vuoto. L’aria è fredda, limpida. La casa è silenziosa, come la cucina, il divano di velluto blu, la piccola tazza da tè bianca. Da sempre la fattoria canta per noi, le sue famiglie perdute, i suoi soldati e le mogli. Durante la guerra, quando arrivarono con le baionette, entrando con la forza, gli stivali infangati sulle scale. Patrioti. Banditi. Mariti. Padri. Dormivano nei letti freddi. Razziavano la cantina in cerca di barattoli di pesche sciroppate e barbabietole da zucchero. Accendevano grandi fuochi nel campo, e le fiamme si contorcevano, schioccando alte verso il cielo. Fuochi che ridevano. Le facce calde brillavano e le mani erano in tasca, al riparo. Arrostivano un maiale e strappavano la carne dolce e rosea dall’osso. Dopo, si succhiavano via il grasso dalle dita, un sapore familiare, strano. Ce ne sono stati altri – molti – che hanno rubato, smantellato e saccheggiato. Perfino i tubi di rame, perfino le mattonelle di ceramica. Quello che potevano prendere, prendevano. Hanno lasciato solo i muri, i pavimenti spogli. Il cuore pulsante in cantina. Noi aspettiamo. Siamo pazienti. Aspettiamo notizie. Aspettiamo che ci venga detto qualcosa. Il vento sta provando a farlo. Gli alberi ondeggiano. È la fine di qualcosa; lo sentiamo. Presto sapremo.

Among the twentieth-century descendants of the Spanish horse, the Lipizzaner was the most rarefied. Each had its royal pedigree tattooed upon it: the birthplace on the right shoulder; the dam, or mother, on the left flank and the sire on the right flank; and the letter L, marking it as a purebred Lipizzaner, on the cheek. Each was descended from one of six original sires, all born between 1765 and 1810. These

Get thee behind me, Satan.” A wink broke the horsetrader’s appraisal in the Devil’s gaudy eyes: The thought had occurred: “Are angels equipped for such roguery?” : Like man, made in God’s image-: “-So God has an arsehole?” :Yes. He calls him Michael: Lucifer laughed in such merriment that Kit smiled. :Surely thou has heart of l’osculum inflame: “The infamous kiss. Your kiss. The one that bestows power of witchcraft. ’Tis not a kiss on the mouth, I hear.” Lucifer only smiled.

All Hale Kate: Her story is as close to a real-life fairy tale as it gets. Born Catherine Elizabeth Middleton, the quiet, sporty girl next door from the small town of Bucklebury - not quite Cinderella, but certainly a "commoner" by blue bloods' standards - managed to enchant the most eligible bachelor in the world, Prince William, while they were university students 15 years ago. It wasn't long before everyone else fell in love with her, too. We ached for her as she waited patiently for a proposal through 10 years of friendship and romance (and one devastating breakup!), cheered along with about 300 million other TV viewers when she finally became a princess bride in 2011, and watched in awe as she proceeded to graciously but firmly drag the stuffy royal family into the 21st century. And though she never met her mother-in-law, the late, beloved, Princess Diana, Kate is now filling the huge void left not just in her husband's life but in the world's heart when the People's Princess died. The Duchess of Cambridge shares Di's knack for charming world leaders and the general public alike, and the same fierce devotion to her family above all else. She's a busy, modern mom who wears affordable clothes, does her own shopping and cooking, struggles with feelings of insecurity and totes her kids along to work (even if the job happens to involve globe-trotting official state visits) - all while wearing her signature L.K. Bennett 4 inch heels. And one day in the not-too-distance future, this woman who grew up in a modest brick home in the countryside - and seems so very much like on of us- will take on another impossibly huge role: queen of England.

Lei mi chiede se ho cambiato la mia difesa. Ma io chi sono, chi è questo io, questo lei? Cambiamo ogni giorno, e restiamo anche sempre gli stessi. Non c’è un io, non c’è un lei che sia più fondamentale di qualsiasi altro. Lei potrebbe chiedermi quale sia la Elizabeth Costello più vera: quella che ha fatto la prima dichiarazione o quella che ha fatto la seconda. Rispondo che entrambe sono vere. Entrambe. E nessuna delle due. Io sono un’altra. Perdonatemi se ricorro a parole che non sono miei ma non posso migliorarle. Davanti a voi c’è la persona sbagliata. Credete di avere qui la persona giusta, ma avete quella sbagliata. L’altra Elizabeth Costello.

You see, it's this way. It is inme. I can't help it. And Father said I was always to keep on writing. He said I would be famous some day. Wouldn't you like to have a famous niece, Aunt Elizabeth?" "I am not going to argue the matter," said Aunt Elizabeth. "I'm not arguing—only explaining." Emily was exasperatingly respectful. "I just want you to understand how it is that I have to go on writing stories, even though I am so very sorry you don't approve." "If you don't give up this—this worse than nonsense, Emily, I'll—I'll—" Aunt Elizabeth stopped, not knowing what to say she would do. Emily was

Come se l'anima potesse far silenzio in quei momenti.

A bride, before a ‘Good-night’ could be said, Should vanish from her clothes into her bed, As souls from bodies steal, and are not spied.        But now she’s laid; what though she be? Yet there are more delays, for where is he? He comes and passeth through sphere after sphere; First her sheets, then her arms, then anywhere. Let not this day, then, but this night be thine; Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine. JOHN DONNE: An Epithalamion on the Lady Elizabeth and Count Palatine.

Susan Clarke, who either was a daughter from the mixed-race marriage of James F. Clarke and Mary Dulcet, or a child of the biracial couple John D. Clarke and Elizabeth Fish, entered into a permanent relationship with a white lumber merchant from Georgia, L. H. Rossignol, around 1847. In the 1850s, she acquired property in Palatka, as well as an eighty-seven-acre farm outside of town. Her neighbors included her young uncles Philip and Alex Clarke, her grandfather's sons by the slave Hannah Benet, and Amelia Anderson Clarke, her absent cousin's (or brother's) wife. In 1860, she shared a household with Rossignol, seven biracial children, and her young uncle Alex Clarke. Through her efforts, the latter acquired Palatka real estate. Thirty free blacks resided at the river port in 1860, including Amelia Anderson Clarke, Hannah Benet, and Ramona Fernández, another mixed-race woman linked to the Clarkes. Susan Clarke functioned as the matriarch of this small free black community, which had tripled in size since 1850.43 Her pedigree, ancestral ties to the Palatka locale, property ownership, and business skills helped to make her a leader.

It’s like law school trains these junkies to masticate language as if it’s gum. Stick a slice in your mouth, chew on it, blow it full of hot air, and then spit it on the ground when it no longer tastes good.

Aunt Elizabeth," said Katherine one day, "does anybody ever die in Harbour Hill? Because it doesn't seem to me it would be any change for them if they did.