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Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children’s faces looking up Holding wonder like a cup. Life has loveliness to sell, Music like a curve of gold, Scent of pine trees in the rain, Eyes that love you, arms that hold, And for your spirit’s still delight, Holy thoughts that star the night.
Sku: lovesong
The Probationer’s name was really Nella Jane Brown, but she was entered in the training school as N. Jane Brown. However, she meant when she was accepted to be plain Jane Brown. Not, of course, that she could ever be really plain. People on the outside of hospitals have a curious theory about nurses, especially if they are under twenty. They believe that they have been disappointed in love. They never think that they may intend to study medicine later on, or that they may think nursing is a good and honourable career, or that they may really like to care for the sick.
Sku: lovestory
Frank Rignold had never been the favoured suitor, not at least so far as anything definite was concerned; but he had always been welcome at the little house on Commonwealth Street, and amongst the neighbours his name and that of Florence Fenacre were coupled as a matter of course and every old lady within a radius of three miles regarded the match as good as settled. It was not Frank’s fault that it was not, for he was deeply in love with the widow’s daughter and looked forward to such an end to their acquaintance as the very dearest thing fate could give him. But in these affairs it is necessary to carry the lady with you–and the lady, though she had never said “no,” had not yet been prevailed upon to say “yes.” In fact she preferred to leave the matter as it was, and boldly forestalling a set proposal, had managed to convey to Frank Rignold that it was her wish he should not make one.
CONTENTS THE CHIEF ENGINEER, FFRENCHES FIRST, THE GOLDEN CASTAWAYS, THE AWAKENING OF GEORGE RAYMOND, THE MASCOT OF BATTERY B,
Sku: lovefiddler
“THE BOTTOMS” succeeded to “Hell Row”. Hell Row was a block of thatched, bulging cottages that stood by the brookside on Greenhill Lane. There lived the colliers who worked in the little gin-pits two fields away. The brook ran under the alder trees, scarcely soiled by these small mines, whose coal was drawn to the surface by donkeys that plodded wearily in a circle round a gin. And all over the countryside were these same pits, some of which had been worked in the time of Charles II, the few colliers and the donkeys burrowing down like ants into the earth, making queer mounds and little black places among the corn-fields and the meadows. And the cottages of these coal-miners, in blocks and pairs here and there, together with odd farms and homes of the stockingers, straying over the parish, formed the village of Bestwood.
Sku: sonsandlovers
“It was to a noise like thunder, and close clasped in a soldier’s embrace, that Catherine I. made her first appearance in Russian history.” History, indeed, contains few chapters more strange, more seemingly impossible, than this which tells the story of the maid-of-all-work–the red-armed, illiterate peasant-girl who, without any dower of beauty or charm, won the idolatry of an Emperor and succeeded him on the greatest throne of Europe. So obscure was Catherine’s origin that no records reveal either her true name or the year or place of her birth. All that we know is that she was cradled in some Livonian village, either in Sweden or Poland, about the year 1685, the reputed daughter of a serf-mother and a peasant-father; and that her numerous brothers and sisters were known in later years by the name Skovoroshtchenko or Skovronski. The very Christian name by which she is known to history was not hers until it was given to her by her Imperial lover.
I. A COMEDY QUEEN II. THE “BONNIE PRINCE’S” BRIDE III. THE PEASANT AND THE EMPRESS IV. A CROWN THAT FAILED V. A QUEEN OF HEARTS VI. THE REGENT’S DAUGHTER VII. A PRINCESS OF MYSTERY VIII. THE KING AND THE “LITTLE DOVE” IX. THE ROMANCE OF THE BEAUTIFUL SWEDE X. THE SISTER OF AN EMPEROR
Sku: loveaffairsofeurope
“A gentleman called to see you when you were out last night, sir,” said Mrs. Medley, my landlady, removing the last of the breakfast things. “Yes?” I said, in my affable way. “A gentleman,” said Mrs. Medley meditatively, “with a very powerful voice.” “Caruso?” “Sir?” “I said, did he leave a name?” “Yes, sir. Mr. Ukridge.” “Oh, my sainted aunt!” “Sir!” “Nothing, nothing.”
Sku: lovethechickens
How often, in answer to my repeated intreaties that you would give my Daughter a regular detail of the Misfortunes and Adventures of your Life, have you said “No, my freind never will I comply with your request till I may be no longer in Danger of again experiencing such dreadful ones.” Surely that time is now at hand. You are this day 55. If a woman may ever be said to be in safety from the determined Perseverance of disagreeable Lovers and the cruel Persecutions of obstinate Fathers, surely it must be at such a time of Life.
Sku: loveandfriendship
“THREE o’clock in the morning. The soft April night is looking in at my windows and caressingly winking at me with its stars. I can’t sleep, I am so happy! “My whole being from head to heels is bursting with a strange, incomprehensible feeling. I can’t analyse it just now–I haven’t the time, I’m too lazy, and there–hang analysis! Why, is a man likely to interpret his sensations when he is flying head foremost from a belfry, or has just learned that he has won two hundred thousand? Is he in a state to do it?”
CONTENTS LOVE LIGHTS A STORY WITHOUT AN END MARI D’ELLE A LIVING CHATTEL THE DOCTOR TOO EARLY! THE COSSACK ABORIGINES AN INQUIRY
Sku: loveandotherstories
Well, hear I am in camp after being “rough-housed on the rattlers” for 1 day and 2 nites; I was so shook-up that I’m like a loose button on an overcoat–no wheres in particular. The most vivid impression in my bean is our interview in the hall-way of your flat the night (or was it morning) when we bid each other a fond fare-thee-well. Never will I forget them tender and loving words you spoke, also will I remember them words spoke, by the guy on the second floor, NOT so tender; how was we to know you were backed up against the push button of his bell? When a boob like him lives in a flat in wartime he ought to be made to muffle his bell after 10 p.m. I’m gonna rite the Pres. about this.
Sku: lovelettersofarookietojulie
Bushman Qualifications for Love “Love in all Their Marriages,” False Facts Regarding Hottentots Effeminate Men and Masculine Women How the Hottentot Woman “Rules at Home,” “Regard for Women” Capacity for Refined Love Hottentot Coarseness Fat versus Sentiment South African Love-Poems A Hottentot Flirt Kaffir Morals Individual Preference for–Cows, Bargaining for Brides Amorous Preferences Zulu Girls not Coy Charms and Poems A Kaffir Love-Story Lower than Beasts Colonies of Free Lovers A Lesson in Gallantry Not a Particle of Romance
Sku: primitiveloveandlove-stories
SISTERS Ursula and Gudrun Brangwen sat one morning in the window-bay of their father’s house in Beldover, working and talking. Ursula was stitching a piece of brightly-coloured embroidery, and Gudrun was drawing upon a board which she held on her knee. They were mostly silent, talking as their thoughts strayed through their minds. ‘Ursula,’ said Gudrun, ‘don’t you REALLY WANT to get married?’ Ursula laid her embroidery in her lap and looked up. Her face was calm and considerate. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘It depends how you mean.’ Gudrun was slightly taken aback. She watched her sister for some moments.
Sku: womeninlove
Mother, I smile at your alarms! I own, indeed, my Cousin’s charms, But, like all nursery maladies, Love is not badly taken twice. Have you forgotten Charlotte Hayes, My playmate in the pleasant days At Knatchley, and her sister, Anne, The twins, so made on the same plan, That one wore blue, the other white, To mark them to their father’s sight;
Contents: The Victories Of Love Amelia The Day After To-Morrow The Azalea Departure The Toys If I Were Dead A Farewell Sponsa Dei The Rosy Bosom’d Hours Eros
Sku: thevictoriesoflove
A NEW DISCOVERY DEEPENS A MYSTERY. When Mrs. Montague entered her room, an hour after Mona went up stairs, there was a deep frown upon her brow. She found Mona arrayed in a pretty white wrapper, and sitting before the glowing grate reading a new book, while she waited for her. “What are you sitting up for, and arrayed in that style?” she ungraciously demanded. “I thought you would need help in undressing, and I put on this loose wrapper because it was more comfortable than any other dress,” Mona answered, as she regarded the lady with some surprise, for she had never before quite so curtly addressed her.
Sku: truelovesreward
In the evening dimness of old Mrs. Maldon’s sitting-room stood the youthful virgin, Rachel Louisa Fleckring. The prominent fact about her appearance was that she wore an apron. Not one of those white, waist-tied aprons, with or without bibs, worn proudly, uncompromisingly, by a previous generation of unaspiring housewives and housegirls! But an immense blue pinafore-apron, covering the whole front of the figure except the head, hands, and toes. Its virtues were that it fully protected the most fragile frock against all the perils of the kitchen; and that it could be slipped on or off in one second, without any manipulation of tapes, pins, or buttons and buttonholes–for it had no fastenings of any sort and merely yawned behind. In one second the drudge could be transformed into the elegant infanta of boudoirs, and _vice versa_. To suit the coquetry of the age the pinafore was enriched with certain flouncings, which, however, only intensified its unshapen ugliness.
The scene opens with the pleasant sound of a great many instruments, and represents a vast sea, bordered on each side by four large rocks. On the summit of each is a river god, leaning on the insignia usual to those deities. At the foot of these rocks are twelve Tritons on each side, and in the middle of the sea four Cupids on dolphins; behind them the god AEOLUS floating on a small cloud above the waves. AEOLUS commands the winds to withdraw; and whilst four Cupids, twelve Tritons, and eight river gods answer him, the sea becomes calm, and an island rises from the waves. Eight fishermen come out of the sea with mother-of-pearl and branches of coral in their hands, and after a charming dance seat themselves each on a rock above one of the river gods. The music announces the advent of NEPTUNE, and while this god is dancing with his suite, the fishermen, Tritons, and river gods accompany his steps with various movements and the clattering of the pearl shells.
Sku: themagnificentlovers
ERAS. Shall I declare it to you? A certain secret anxiety never leaves my mind quite at rest. Yes, whatever remarks you make about my love, to tell you the truth, I am afraid of being deceived; or that you may be bribed in order to favour a rival; or, at least, that you may be imposed upon as well as myself. GR.-RE. As for me, if you suspect me of any knavish trick, I will say, and I trust I give no offence to your honour’s love, that you wound my honesty very unjustly, and that you show but small skill in physiognomy. People of my bulk are not accused, thank Heaven! of being either rogues or plotters. I scarcely need protest against the honour paid to us, but am straightforward in every thing.
Sku: thelove-tiff
The lamps of the Great Northern Terminus at King’s Cross had not long been lighted, when a cab deposited a young lady and her luggage at the departure platform. It was an October twilight, cold and gray, and the place had a cheerless and dismal aspect to that solitary young traveller, to whom English life and an English atmosphere were somewhat strange. She had been seven years abroad, in a school near Paris; rather an expensive seminary, where the number of pupils was limited, the masters and mistresses, learned in divers modern accomplishments, numerous, and the dietary of foreign slops and messes without stint.
Sku: thelovelsofarden
Charg. What, hoa there! Hoa, sirrahs! More wine! Are the knaves asleep? Let not our guests cool, or we shall starve the till! Good waiting, more than viands and wine, doth help to make the inn!– George!–Richard!–Ralph!–Where are you? [Enter GEORGE.] George. Here am I, sir! Charg. Have you taken in more wine to that company? George. Yes, sir. Charg. That’s right. Serve them as quick as they order! A fair company! I have seen them here before. Take care they come again. A choice company! That Master Waller, I hear, is a fine spirit– leads the town. Pay him much duty. A deep purse, and easy strings.
Sku: thelove-chase
Wouldn’t it jar you, wouldn’t it make you sore To see the poet, when the goods play out, Crawl off of poor old Pegasus and tout His skate to two-step sonnets off galore? Then, when the plug, a dead one, can no more Shake rag-time than a biscuit, right about The poem-butcher turns with gleeful shout And sends a batch of sonnets to the store. The sonnet is a very easy mark, A James P. Dandy as a carry-all For brain-fag wrecks who want to keep it dark Just why their crop of thinks is running small. On the low down, dear Maine, my looty loo, That’s why I’ve cooked this batch of rhymes for you.
Sku: thelovesonnets
Am I in bad? upon the tick of nine Today the Pansy got aboard my ship And sprung the Trans-Suburban for a trip. Say, she’s the shapely ticket pretty fine! Next to her pattern Anna Held looks shine And Lilly Russell doesn’t know the grip.
At this moment, when I am about to begin the most important undertaking of my life, I recall the sense of abhorrence with which I have at different times read the confessions of men famed for their prowess in the realm of love. These boastings have always shocked me, for I reverence love as the noblest of the passions, and it is impossible for me to conceive how one who has truly fallen victim to its benign influence can ever thereafter speak flippantly of it. Yet there have been, and there still are, many who take a seeming delight in telling you how many conquests they have made, and they not infrequently have the bad taste to explain with wearisome prolixity the ways and the means whereby those conquests were wrought; as, forsooth, an unfeeling huntsman is forever boasting of the game he has slaughtered and is forever dilating upon the repulsive details of his butcheries.
Sku: theloveaffairs
At once, I suppose, you visualize a somewhat smug fellow, loftily complacent and superior–in brief, the bogus artist of Greenwich Village, posturing in a pot-hat before a cellar full of visiting schoolmarms, all dreaming of being betrayed. If so, you see a ghost. It is the curse of the true artist that his work never stands before him in all its imagined completeness–that he can never look at it without feeling an impulse to add to it here or take away from it there–that the beautiful, to him, is not a state of being, but an eternal becoming. Satisfaction, like the praise of dolts, is the compensation of the aesthetic cheese-monger–the popular novelist, the Broadway dramatist, the Massenet and Kipling, the Maeterlinck and Augustus Thomas.
Sku: thelineoflove
In the dawn of the day when the sea and the earth Reflected the sunrise above, I set forth with a heart full of courage and mirth To seek for the Kingdom of Love. I asked of a Poet I met on the way Which cross-road would lead me aright; And he said “Follow me, and ere long you shall see Its glittering turrets of light.”
Sku: thekingdomoflove
There was a glow in the sky as if great furnace doors were opened. But all the afternoon his eyes had looked on glamour; he had strayed in fairyland. The holidays were nearly done, and Lucian Taylor had gone out resolved to lose himself, to discover strange hills and prospects that he had never seen before. The air was still, breathless, exhausted after heavy rain, and the clouds looked as if they had been molded of lead. No breeze blew upon the hill, and down in the well of the valley not a dry leaf stirred, not a bough shook in all the dark January woods. About a mile from the rectory he had diverged from the main road by an opening that promised mystery and adventure. It was an old neglected lane, little more than a ditch, worn ten feet deep by its winter waters, and shadowed by great untrimmed hedges, densely woven together. On each side were turbid streams, and here and there a torrent of water gushed down the banks, flooding the lane. It was so deep and dark that he could not get a glimpse of the country through which he was passing, but the way went down and down to some unconjectured hollow.
Sku: thehillofdreams
My story will take you into times and spaces alike rude and uncivil. Blood will be spilt, virgins suffer distresses; the horn will sound through woodland glades; dogs, wolves, deer, and men, Beauty and the Beasts, will tumble each other, seeking life or death with their proper tools. There should be mad work, not devoid of entertainment. When you read the word _Explicit_, if you have laboured so far, you will know something of Morgraunt Forest and the Countess Isabel; the Abbot of Holy Thorn will have postured and schemed (with you behind the arras); you will have wandered with Isoult and will know why she was called La Desirous, with Prosper le Gai, and will understand how a man may fall in love with his own wife. Finally, of Galors and his affairs, of the great difference there may be between a Christian and the brutes, of love and hate, grudging and open humour, faith and works, cloisters and thoughts uncloistered–all in the green wood–you will know as much as I do if you have cared to follow the argument.
Sku: theforestlovers
If you were to say to an Ulster man, “Who are the proudest people in Ireland?” he would first of all stare at you as if he had difficulty in believing that any intelligent person could ask a question with so obvious an answer, and then he would reply, “Why, the Ulster people, of course!” And if you were to say to a Ballyards man, “Who are the proudest people in Ulster?” he would reply … if he deigned to reply at all … “A child would know that! The Ballyards people, of course!” It is difficult for anyone who is not a native of the town, to understand why the inhabitants of Ballyards should possess so great a pride in their birthplace. It is not a large town … it is not even the largest town in the county … nor has it any notable features to distinguish it from a dozen other towns of similar size in that part of Ireland. Millreagh, although it is now a poor, scattered sort of place, was once of great importance: for the mail-boats sailed from its harbour to Port Michael until the steamship owners agreed that Port Michael was too much exposed to the severities of rough weather, and chose another harbour elsewhere.
Sku: thefoolishlovers
Do not exterminate or weaken a fern colony by taking more plants than it can spare. In small colonies of rare ferns take a few and leave the rest to grow. It is decidedly ill-bred to rob a locality of its precious plants. Pick your fern leaf down close to the root-stock, including a portion of that also, if it can be spared. Place your fronds between newspaper sheets and lay “dryers” over them (blotting paper or other absorbent paper). Cover with a board or slat frame, and lay on this a weight of several pounds, leaving it for twenty-four hours; if the specimens are not then cured, change the dryers. Mount the prepared specimens on white mounting sheets. The regulation size is 16-1/2 by 11-1/2 inches. The labels are usually 3-3/4 by 1-3/4 inches. A sample will suggest the proper inscription.
Sku: thefernloverscompanion
Foiled on the field with his dead boys around him, All waiting for Earth to recover her own, Fortune hath missed him, but Glory hath found him, While fighting a thousand fierce foemen alone. Custer’s the right wing, the left and the center, Himself is his only reserve and supply. This is a battle for Spartans to enter, Where One makes an army to conquer or die. Straight on his steed doth he meet the grim battle, The red line of danger grows deadly and large, Loud from the hills rings the rifleman’s rattle, But Custer is ready, so forward and charge! Firing with left hand, and fencing with right, The reins in his teeth, like a handless young Hun, What is his fate in the terrible fight? The thousands hath slain him, yet Custer hath won.
Sku: soldiersong
For years I had been preoccupied with thoughts of love–and by love I mean a noble and sensuous passion, absorbing the energies of the soul, fulfilling destiny, and reducing all that has gone before it to the level of a mere prelude. And that afternoon in autumn, the eve of my twenty-first birthday, I was more deeply than ever immersed in amorous dreams. I, in my modern costume, sat down between two pairs of candles to the piano in the decaying drawing-room, which like a spinster strove to conceal its age. A generous fire flamed in the wide grate behind me: warmth has always been to me the first necessary of life.
CONTENTS PART I IN THE NIGHT PART II THREE HUMAN HEARTS PART III THE VICTORY
Sku: sacredandprofanelove
Sku: Primitivelove
The love story of Heine and his Mathilde is another of those stories which fix a type of loving. It is the love of a man of the most brilliant genius, the most relentless, mocking intellect, for a simple, pretty woman, who could no more understand him than a cow can understand a comet. Many men of genius have loved just such women, and the world, of course, has wondered. How is it that men of genius prefer some little Mathilde, when the presidents of so many women’s clubs are theirs for the asking? Perhaps the problem is not so difficult as, at first sight, it may seem. After all, a man of genius is much like other men.
Sku: oldlovestories
Many years ago you used to rock me to sleep, cradling me in your arms and singing me petty songs. Surely you have not forgotten that time, and I recall it with tenderness. You were very beautiful then. But you are more beautiful now; for, in the years that have come and gone since then, the joys and the sorrows of maternity have impressed their saintly grace upon the dear face I used to kiss, and have made your gentle heart gentler still. Beloved lady, in memory of years to be recalled only in thought, and in token of my gratitude and affection, I bring you these little love-songs, and reverently I lay them at your feet.
Sku: lovesongsofchildhood
‘There’s only one thing I must really implore you, Edith,’ said Bruce anxiously. ‘_Don’t_ make me late at the office!’ ‘Certainly not, Bruce,’ answered Edith sedately. She was seated opposite her husband at breakfast in a very new, very small, very white flat in Knightsbridge–exactly like thousands of other new, small, white flats. She was young and pretty, but not obvious. One might suppose that she was more subtle than was shown by her usual expression, which was merely cheerful and intelligent.
Sku: lovesshadow
It was in a little woodland glen, with a streamlet tumbling through it. She sat with her back to a snowy birch-tree, gazing into the eddies of a pool below; and he lay beside her, upon the soft, mossy ground, reading out of a book of poems.
CONTENTS PART I Love’s Entaglement BOOK I THE VICTIM BOOK II THE SNARE BOOK III THE VICTIM HESITATES BOOK IV THE VICTIM APPROACHES BOOK V THE BAIT IS SEIZED BOOK VI THE CORDS ARE TIGHTENED BOOK VII THE CAPTURE IS COMPLETED PART II Love’s Captivity BOOK VIII THE CAPTIVE BOUND BOOK IX THE CAPTIVE IN LEASH BOOK X THE END OF THE TETHER BOOK XI THE TORTURE-HOUSE BOOK XII THE TREADMILL BOOK XIII THE MASTERS OF THE SNARE BOOK XIV THE PRICE OF RANSOM BOOK XV THE CAPTIVE FAINTS BOOK XVI THE BREAK FOR FREEDOM
Sku: lovepilgrimage
There is a general fear of suffering after death. Such fear may be derived in part from early impressions and education, and in part from the conscience that God has given to every man. But whatever their secondary origin, these sources of fear have been divinely ordained as means to an end. Such fear could not be divinely inspired if it were not founded on fact. And the fact is, that there is suffering in reserve for evil doers. There is no mistaking the statements of Scripture as well as the voice of conscience on that point. What that suffering is, for what object inflicted, and how long it will continue, have been of late years much discussed, and with diverse views. Some of these views are very literal interpretations of the divine Word, and others of them are very figurative. The fact is, it is not always easy to distinguish between symbolism and reality, whether in nature or in revelation.
Sku: lovesfinalvictory
SCENE I. A high road, a town at a distance–A small inn on one side of the road–A cottage on the other. The LANDLORD of the inn leads AGATHA by the hand out of his house. LANDLORD. No, no! no room for you any longer–It is the fair to-day in the next village; as great a fair as any in the German dominions. The country people with their wives and children take up every corner we have. AGATHA. You will turn a poor sick woman out of doors who has spent her last farthing in your house. LANDLORD. For that very reason; because she _has_ spent her last farthing. AGATHA. I can work.
Sku: loversvows
Though I parted from you resolved to obey your impossible commands, yet know, oh charming _Sylvia_! that after a thousand conflicts between love and honour, I found the god (too mighty for the idol) reign absolute monarch in my soul, and soon banished that tyrant thence. That cruel counsellor that would suggest to you a thousand fond arguments to hinder my noble pursuit; _Sylvia_ came in view! her irresistible _Idea_! With all the charms of blooming youth, with all the attractions of heavenly beauty! Loose, wanton, gay, all flowing her bright hair, and languishing her lovely eyes, her dress all negligent as when I saw her last, discovering a thousand ravishing graces, round, white, small breasts, delicate neck, and rising bosom, heaved with sighs she would in vain conceal; and all besides, that nicest fancy can imagine surprising–Oh I dare not think on, lest my desires grow mad and raving; let it suffice, oh adorable _Sylvia_! I think and know enough to justify that flame in me, which our weak alliance of brother and sister has rendered so criminal; but he that adores _Sylvia_, should do it at an uncommon rate; ’tis not enough to sacrifice a single heart, to give you a simple passion, your beauty should, like itself, produce wondrous effects; it should force all obligations, all laws, all ties even of nature’s self: you, my lovely maid, were not born to be obtained by the dull methods of ordinary loving; and ’tis in vain to prescribe me measures; and oh much more in vain to urge the nearness of our relation.
Sku: loveletters
From the valley, borne aloft on the wings of the evening breeze, rose faintly the tolling of an Angelus bell, and in a goat-herd’s hut on the heights above stood six men with heads uncovered and bowed, obeying its summons to evening prayer. A brass lamp, equipped with three beaks, swung from the grimy ceiling, and, with more smoke than flame, shed an indifferent light, and yet a more indifferent smell, throughout the darkening hovel. But it sufficed at least to reveal in the accoutrements and trappings of that company a richness that was the more striking by contrast with the surrounding squalor. As the last stroke of the Ave Maria faded on the wind that murmured plaintively through the larches of the hillside, they piously crossed themselves, and leisurely resuming their head-gear, they looked at one another with questioning glances. Yet before any could voice the inquiry that was in the minds of all, a knock fell upon the rotten timbers of the door.
Sku: loveatarms
I had drifted slowly across the river, clinging with one arm thrown over a log, expecting each moment the musket of some startled picket would spit red through the dark, and scarcely daring to guide my unwieldy support by the slightest movement of hand in the water. The splash of motion might mean death in an instant, for keen eyes, sharpened by long night vigils, were on the stream, and those who had ventured the deed before me had failed utterly.
Sku: loveunderfire
Among the many fair and frail women who fed the flames of the “Merrie Monarch’s” passion from the first day of his restoration to that last day, but one short week before his death, when Evelyn saw him “sitting and toying with his concubines,” there was, it is said, only one of them all who really captured his royal and wayward heart, that loveliest, simplest, and most designing of prudes, _La belle Stuart_.
CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. A PRINCESS OF PRUDES 1 II. THE NIGHTINGALE OF BATH 21 III. THE ROMANCE OF THE VILLIERS 36 IV. THE STAIN ON THE SHIRLEY ‘SCUTCHEON 51 V. A GHOSTLY VISITANT 62 VI. A MESSALINA OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 74 VII. A PROFLIGATE PRINCE 87 VIII. THE GORGEOUS COUNTESS 96 IX. A QUEEN OF COQUETTES 110 X. THE ADVENTURES OF A VISCOUNT’S DAUGHTER 127
Sku: romancesaristocracy
Girlhood, the dearest time of joy and love, The sunny spring of gladness and of peace, The time that joins its links with heaven above, And all that’s pure below; a running ease Of careless thought beguiles the murmuring stream Of girlish life, and as some sweet, vague dream, The fleeting days go by; fair womanhood Comes oft to lure the girlish feet away, But by the brooklet still they love to stray, Nor long to seek the world’s engulfing flood.
Sku: loveorfame
The supreme prayer of my heart is not to be learned, rich, famous, powerful, or “good,” but simply to be radiant. I desire to radiate health, cheerfulness, calm courage and good will. I wish to live without hate, whim, jealousy, envy, fear. I wish to be simple, honest, frank, natural, clean in mind and clean in body, unaffected–ready to say “I do not know,” if it be so, and to meet all men on an absolute equality–to face any obstacle and meet every difficulty unabashed and unafraid.
CONTENTS CHAPTERS 1. A Prayer 2. Life and Expression 3. Time and Chance 4. Psychology of a Religious Revival 5. One-Man Power 6. Mental Attitude 7. The Outsider 8. Get Out or Get in Line
Sku: lovelifeandwork
Well, hear I am in camp after being “rough-housed on the rattlers” for 1 day and 2 nites; I was so shook-up that I’m like a loose button on an overcoat–no wheres in particular. The most vivid impression in my bean is our interview in the hall-way of your flat the night (or was it morning) when we bid each other a fond fare-thee-well. Never will I forget them tender and loving words you spoke, also will I remember them words spoke, by the guy on the second floor, NOT so tender; how was we to know you were backed up against the push button of his bell? When a boob like him lives in a flat in wartime he ought to be made to muffle his bell after 10 p.m.
Sku: rookieletter
SCENE. _The drawing-room in the residence of_ MR. EDWARD ELSWORTH. _Garden seen through doors._ ROSE ELSWORTH _occupied at a small table, stitching._ KATE ELSWORTH _stretched languidly upon a sofa, with a book in hand._ MR. EDWARD ELSWORTH _in an easy chair, with newspaper in his lap. Writing materials on table._ KATE. Oh, dullness! dullness! I do wish Harry was at home, or Sir William would march some of his troops this way! What’s the use of an army in the country, if one can’t have a dance once in a while? ROSE. What, indeed! All I desire is, sister, that they should be [_Enter_ SERVANT _with letters for_ MR. ELSWORTH.] left to the dance! That much they do very well.
Sku: love76
My Lord,–A young poet is liable to the same vanity and indiscretion with a young lover; and the great man who smiles upon one, and the fine woman who looks kindly upon t’other, are both of ‘em in danger of having the favour published with the first opportunity. But there may be a different motive, which will a little distinguish the offenders. For though one should have a vanity in ruining another’s reputation, yet the other may only have an ambition to advance his own. And I beg leave, my lord, that I may plead the latter, both as the cause and excuse of this dedication.
Sku: loveforlove
More than thirty years ago two atoms of the eternal Energy sped forth from the heart of it which we call God, and incarnated themselves in the human shapes that were destined to hold them for a while, as vases hold perfumes, or goblets wine, or as sparks of everlasting radium inhabit the bowels of the rock. Perhaps these two atoms, or essences, or monads indestructible, did but repeat an adventure, or many, many adventures. Perhaps again and again they had proceeded from that Home august and imperishable on certain mornings of the days of Time, to return thither at noon or nightfall, laden with the fruits of gained experience. So at least one of them seemed to tell the other before all was done and that other came to believe.
Sku: loveeternal
Old scandals concerning the private life of Lord Byron have been revived with the recent publication of a collection of his letters. One of the big questions seems to be: _Did Byron send Mary Shelley’s letter to Mrs. R.B. Hoppner_? Everyone seems greatly excited about it. Lest future generations be thrown into turmoil over my correspondence after I am gone, I want right now to clear up the mystery which has puzzled literary circles for over thirty years. I need hardly add that I refer to what is known as the “Benchley-Whittier Correspondence.”
Sku: loveconquers
An appalling crash, piercing shrieks, a loud, unequal quarrel on a staircase, the sharp bang of a door…. Edith started up from her restful corner on the blue sofa by the fire, where she had been thinking about her guest, and rushed to the door. ‘Archie–Archie! Come here directly! What’s that noise?’ A boy of ten came calmly into the room.
Sku: lovesight
CONTENTS LOVE LIGHTS A STORY WITHOUT AN END MARI D’ELLE A LIVING CHATTEL THE DOCTOR TOO EARLY! THE COSSACK
