I never for a moment discerned that there was in him anything out of the ordinary.Yet now few will be found to deny his greatness.
object of ridicule
His faults are accepted as the necessary complement to his merits.
rescued the unknown painter from oblivion
He disturbs and arrests.
custom stales one's admiration for him
blazed the trail which succeeding writers have followed.
or a long time no critic has enjoyed in France a more incontestable authority
I cannot agree with the painters who claim superciliously that the layman can understand nothing of painting, and that he can best show his appreciation of their works by silence and a cheque-book.
grotesque misapprehension which sees in art no more than a craft comprehensible perfectly only to the craftsman: art is a manifestation of emotion, and emotion speaks a language that all may understand
my ignorance of painting is extreme. Fortunately, there is no need for me to risk the adventure
well calculated to whet the appetites of the inquiring.
too good a journalist to be unaware
authentic genius had rubbed shoulders with them
It is the protest of romance against the commonplace of life.
The incidents of the legend become the hero's surest passport to immortality.
He made enemies rather than friends.
But a wise historian is precisely what the Rev. Robert Strickland is not
there was much in the commonly received account of Strickland's life to embarrass a respectable family
branded as hypocrisy
Youth has turned to gods we of an earlier day knew not
The air is noisy with their shouts.
poor wantons attempting to recover the illusion of their spring.
In their chastened smile is an indulgent mockery.
They remember that they too trod down a sated generation, with just such clamor and with just such scorn, and they foresee that these brave torchbearers will presently yield their place also.
These gallant words which seem so novel to those that speak them were said in accents scarcely changed a hundred times before. The pendulum swings backwards and forwards. The circle is ever travelled anew.
Who now, for example, thinks of George Crabbe?
making so great a stir in the world
marvel at the felicity of their style
kind words they said about my book made me excessively uncomfortable.
comparing the generosity of one with the meanness of another
intimate sense of being a member of some mystic brotherhood
I was too shy to break into any of the groups that seemed absorbed in their own affairs.
there must have been five hundred diningrooms in London decorated in exactly the same manner. It was chaste, artistic, and dull.
opened his mouth only to put food into it.
She was the only woman of the three whose face was free of make-up, and by contrast with the others she seemed simple and unaffected.
Nothing has been too small to escape him
But I seek refuge in no such excuses
What chance is there that any book will make its way among that multitude?And the successful books are but the successes of a season. Heaven knows what pains the author has been at, what bitter experiences he has endured and what heartache suffered, to give some chance reader a few hours' relaxation or to while away the tedium of a journey
given the anxious labour of a lifetime.
indifferent to aught else, care nothing for praise or censure, failure or success.
There is no last word.
It put her in high spirits. I had never heard her more malicious about our common friends
suggested the influence of
like adventuring upon a stage which till then she had known only from the other side of the footlights.
wild theories and paradoxes
thoroughly dull party from the beginning
brief span of his life
They met with indifference, and would part with relief.
shepherded the ladies out of one room
these a man can do without;
One would admire his excellent qualities, but avoid his company
private jokes of their own which, unintelligible to the outsider, amused them enormously.
a fever in my blood asked for a wilder course
desire to live more dangerously.
excitement of the unforeseen.
prepared for jagged rocks and treacherous shoals
I think that I have gathered a fair knowledge of mankind
flung the bare fact at me
I put thirty-five as the utmost limit at which a man might fall in love without making a fool of himself
the old life was gone and done with.
live on air
impossible to keep up our social pretences any longer.
besetting sin of woman, the passion to discuss her private affairs with anyone who is willing to listen.
Since these confidences were thrust on me, I saw no harm in asking a few questions.
Very sketchy knowledge
confused rather than informed me.
difficult to make my exit with dignity
it made her tears perhaps less moving.
the hour must be chosen with delicacy.
My own hotel was modest enough, but it was magnificent in comparison with this
stepped out of the pages of
The eloquent phrases I had arranged seemed out of place
Has she deserved that you should treat her like this?
Have you any complaint to make against her?
the sinner makes no bones about confessing his sin.my own practice has always been to deny everything.
his eyes kept that mocking smile which made all I said seem rather foolish.
He looked at me with an astonishment that was certainly not feigned. The smile abandoned his lips
there was no money in art
He seemed to express himself with difficulty, as though words were not the medium with which his mind worked
should have been more embarrassed and less calm
never shown any impatience with the monotony of his life
the desire for approbation is perhaps the most deeply seated instinct of civilised man.
It is the bravado of ignorance. They mean only that they do not fear reproaches for peccadillos which they are convinced none will discover.
convention had no hold on him
Conscience is the policeman in all our hearts
brought his enemy within his gates
the very strong link that attaches the individual to the whole.
prides himself on the sensitiveness of his conscience.
bade him good-night
come back with his tail between his legs
the passion women have for behaving beautifully at the death-bed of those they love.
pettiness and grandeur, malice and charity, hatred and love, can find place side by side in the same human heart.
as helpless as a fly in a spider's web.
That is certainly the simplest explanation, But I thought it explained nothing.
Whatever anguish she suffered she concealed.
sadness in the jester's eyes
in the communion of laughter he finds himself more intolerably alone.
the offer of a drink is a sure way to their hearts, you need no laborious steps to enter upon familiarity with them
They look upon conversation as the great pleasure of life
The extent of their experience is pleasantly balanced by the fertility of their imagination.
a direct question is never very discreet.
hinted at undeserved misfortune
He could as little escape her as the cause can escape the effect.
rise superior to circumstances
Nichols was an outrageous liar, and I dare say there is not a word of truth in anything he told me. I should not be surprised to learn that he had never seen Strickland in his life, and owed his knowledge of Marseilles to the pages of a magazine.
in constant need of money
they could not forgive themselves for the opportunity which had escaped them
Of course, I never expected to see my money again.
always a nostalgia for a home they know not.
rise to the greatest heights of his profession. Honours and wealth awaited him
if I weren't personally concerned I should be sorry at the waste
it needed a good deal of character to throw up a career
it sounded as though the world would shortly come to an end
eat themselves sick
And here he lived, unmindful of the world and by the world forgotten
the place where Strickland lived had the beauty of the Garden of Eden.
a matter to which she attached no importance
sunk in the social scale.
made no secret of their contempt
To take money from him was like robbing a child, and you despised him because he was so foolish.
accepted his kindness, but felt no gratitude.
writhed under the jokes made at his expense
pour into my sympathetic ear the long list of his troubles.
She was not the ravishing creature that his love-sick fancy saw
he could not find people adventurous enough to trust themselves to him.
He lived in a dream, and the reality meant nothing to him
I shook with helpless laughter.
he had a vein of brutal sarcasm
Dirk Stroeve was one of those unlucky persons whose most sincere emotions are ridiculous.
The absurdity that clung to everything connected with Dirk Stroeve
it was a little humiliating to forgive so easily insults so outrageous
You have no more spirit than a mongrel cur. You lie down on the ground and ask people to trample on you
I could not stomach his weakness
alone and humiliated and broken
a man without any conception of gratitude.
a selfishness which marvellously conceals itself;
He had omitted nothing that could make his wife despise him.
Her face was a mask that told nothing
I did not expect the issue to take the tragic form it did.
the hospital, a gaunt, cheerless building, the mere sight of which was enough to make one's heart sick
The doctor evidently look upon anxious relatives as a nuisance which must be treated with firmness.
Women are constantly trying to commit suicide for love, but generally they take care not to succeed. It's generally a gesture to arouse pity or terror in their lover.
Blanche Stroeve was only a unit to be added to the statistical list of attempted suicides
I exhausted myself in efforts to distract him.
her calm, kind eyes, which had seen all the horror and pain of the world, and yet, filled with the vision of a world without sin
I felt that no words of condolence availed
gather together the threads
His garb of woe suggested that he had lost in one catastrophe every relation he had in the world
nowhere could you see a speck of dust. Cleanliness, indeed, was a mania with her.
left behind by the advance of civilisation
Perhaps that is the wisdom of life,to tread in your father's steps, and look neither to the right nor to the left.
one year followed the next till death came, like a friend, to give rest to those who had laboured so diligently.
The world is hard and cruel. We are here none knows why, and we go none knows whither. We must be very humble. We must see the beauty of quietness. We must go through life so inconspicuously that Fate does not notice us. And let us seek the love of simple, ignorant people. Their ignorance is better than all our knowledge.
a delight that never staled
buying only what was strictly needful
the grief which now seemed intolerable would be softened by the lapse of time, and a merciful forgetfulness would help him to take up once more the burden of life
I need not burden myself with a purchase that I did not need
It is one of the defects of my character that I cannot altogether dislike anyone who makes me laugh.
What he said had a hateful truth in it
I suppose it escaped your memory that you'd ruined his life?
His life was divorced from material things
given it a ridiculous importance.
nothing less will satisfy her.
she resents the abstract which she is unable to grasp.
describe colours to a man who was born blind
I longed to pierce his armour of complete indifference
But in his book or his picture the real man delivers himself defenceless. His pretentiousness will only expose his vacuity.
they could not work unless all the conditions were to their liking.
my taste is good, but I am conscious that it has no originality.
we go lonely, side by side but not together, unable to know our fellows and unknown by them.
your tired soul sought rest in a woman's arms
the opportunity for a modern version of the hero
forsake all and follow the divine tyranny of art
Strange as it may seem, he always appeared to me not only practical, but immensely matter-of-fact.
her heart, incapable of reason, made her continue on a course she knew was fatal
love is but an episode which takes its place among the other affairs of the day,and the emphasis laid on it in novels gives it an importance which is untrue to life.
the subject is of paramount interest
he had no gift for putting what he had to say in the striking phrase that the listener remembers.
it is there that he painted the pictures on which his fame most securely rests.