But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!... A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
When Mabelle Webb died, Clifton began the mourning that lasted until his own death. Noel Coward noted in a letter, . . . "Poor Cli...fton . . . is still, after two months, wailing and sobbing over Mabelle's death. As she was well over ninety, gaga, and driving him mad for years, this seems excessive and over indulgent. . . ." The most famous remark to go the rounds of Clifton Webb's friends was Noel Coward's final, acerbic one to him: "It must be tough to be orphaned at seventy-one!"LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
There a captive sat in chains Crooning ditties treasured well... From his Afric's torrid plains. Sole estate his sire bequeathed,-- Hapless sire to hapless son,-- Was the wailing song he breathed, And his chain when life was done.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Hard labor and spare diet they had, and off wooden trenchers, but they had peace and freedom, and the wailing of the tempest in th...e woods sounded kindlier in their ear than the smooth voice of the prelates, at home, in England.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
So if hunger provokes wailing and wailing brings the breast; if the breast permits sucking and milk suggests its swallow; if swall...owing issues in sleep and stomachy comfort, then need, ache, message, object, act, and satisfaction are soon associated like charms on a chain; shortly our wants begin to envision the things which well reduce them, and the organism is finally said to wish.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
See where my Love sits in the beds of spices, Beset all round with camphor, myrrh, and roses,... And interlaced with curious devices Which her apart from all the world incloses! There doth she tune her lute for her delight, And with sweet music makes the ground to move, Whilst I, poor I, do sit in heavy plight, Wailing alone my unrespected love;LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
And in counterpoint, from other windows, the effort to be merry--ay, maracas!... Msibilant, intricate--the voices wailing pleasure, arriving perhaps at joy, late, after sets have been switched off, and silences are dark windows?LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Not angels, but ghosts; curling like pink tea cups... on any pillow, or kicking, showing their innocent bottoms, wailing for Lucifer.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »