A Nest of Linnets

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book A Nest of Linnets by Frank Frankfort Moore, Library of Alexandria
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: Frank Frankfort Moore ISBN: 9781465626820
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
ISBN: 9781465626820
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English

The apprehensions which she was too much overcome to name were emphasised in the glance that she cast at her father. Her eyes, the most marvellous wells of deep tenderness that ever woman possessed, at all times suggested a certain pathetic emotion of fear, causing every man who looked into their depths to seek to be her protector from the danger they seemed to foresee; but at this moment they appeared to look straight into the face of disaster. “If I could translate that expression of your face into music, I should be the greatest musician alive,” said her father. In a second the girl was on her feet, uttering a little sound of contempt. She began pacing the floor excitedly, her long white muslin dress flowing from her high waist in waves. “Ah, always this art—always this art!” she cried. “Always the imitation—always the pitiful attempt to arouse an artificial emotion in others, and never to have an hour of true emotion oneself, never an hour of real life, never an hour apart from the artifices of Art,—that is the life which you would have me to lead. I hate it! I hate it! Oh, better a day—an hour—a minute of true tenderness than a long lifetime spent in shamming emotion!” “Shamming? Shamming? Oh, my Elizabeth!” said the musician in a voice full of reproach. “Shamming! Shamming!” she cried. “I think that there is no greater sham than music. The art of singing is the art of shamming. I try to awaken pity in the breast of my hearers by pretending that I am at the point of death and anxious for the angels to carry me off, yet all the time I care nothing for the angels, but a good deal for my brother Tom, who is coming home to-night. Oh, father, father, do not try to teach me any more of this tricking of people into tears by the sound of my voice. Dear father, let me have this one evening to myself—to live in my own world—my own world of true tears, of true feeling, of true joy. Let me live until to-morrow the real life of the people about us, who have not been cursed by Heaven with expressive voices and a knowledge of the trick of drawing tears by a combination of notes.”

View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart

The apprehensions which she was too much overcome to name were emphasised in the glance that she cast at her father. Her eyes, the most marvellous wells of deep tenderness that ever woman possessed, at all times suggested a certain pathetic emotion of fear, causing every man who looked into their depths to seek to be her protector from the danger they seemed to foresee; but at this moment they appeared to look straight into the face of disaster. “If I could translate that expression of your face into music, I should be the greatest musician alive,” said her father. In a second the girl was on her feet, uttering a little sound of contempt. She began pacing the floor excitedly, her long white muslin dress flowing from her high waist in waves. “Ah, always this art—always this art!” she cried. “Always the imitation—always the pitiful attempt to arouse an artificial emotion in others, and never to have an hour of true emotion oneself, never an hour of real life, never an hour apart from the artifices of Art,—that is the life which you would have me to lead. I hate it! I hate it! Oh, better a day—an hour—a minute of true tenderness than a long lifetime spent in shamming emotion!” “Shamming? Shamming? Oh, my Elizabeth!” said the musician in a voice full of reproach. “Shamming! Shamming!” she cried. “I think that there is no greater sham than music. The art of singing is the art of shamming. I try to awaken pity in the breast of my hearers by pretending that I am at the point of death and anxious for the angels to carry me off, yet all the time I care nothing for the angels, but a good deal for my brother Tom, who is coming home to-night. Oh, father, father, do not try to teach me any more of this tricking of people into tears by the sound of my voice. Dear father, let me have this one evening to myself—to live in my own world—my own world of true tears, of true feeling, of true joy. Let me live until to-morrow the real life of the people about us, who have not been cursed by Heaven with expressive voices and a knowledge of the trick of drawing tears by a combination of notes.”

More books from Library of Alexandria

Cover of the book El Idilio De Un Enfermo by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book The Basis of Morality by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book Nooks and Corners of Cornwall by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book The Complete Sayings of Jesus by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book The Life & Letters of Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book Through Bosnia and Herzegovina With a Paint Brush by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book The Seafarers by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book The Mystery and Romance of Alchemy and Pharmacy by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book L'Oeuvre Des Conteurs Allemands: Mémoires D'Une Chanteuse Allemande Traduit Pour La Première Fois en Français Avec Des Fragments Inédits by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book Peeps at Many Lands: Ancient Egypt by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book Legends of Longdendale: Being a Series of Tales Founded upon the Folk-lore of Longdendale Valley and its Neighbourhood by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book Fred Markham in Russia: The Boy Travellers in the Land of the Czar by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book Sherlock Holmes: The Redheaded League by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book Far Off Things by Frank Frankfort Moore
Cover of the book Freher's Process in The Philosophical Work by Frank Frankfort Moore
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy