“Not much,” I replied—“nothing but water; considerable horizon though, and there’s a squall coming up, I think.”
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“But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire.”
“Only when one is young,” she answered. “When an old woman like myself blushes, it is a very bad sign. Ah! Lord Henry, I wish you would tell me how to become young again.”
At last he heard a step outside, and the door opened. “How late you are, Harry!” he murmured.
“But what takes thee a-whaling? I want to know that before I think of shipping ye.”
“Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At present I have not room to do them justice.”
“I want him to play to me,” cried Lord Henry, smiling, and he looked down the table and caught a bright answering glance.
Lord Henry looked over at Mr. Erskine. “Humanity takes itself too seriously. It is the world’s original sin. If the caveman had known how to laugh, history would have been different.”
Dorian smiled and shook his head: “I am afraid I don’t think so, Lady Henry. I never talk during music—at least, during good music. If one hears bad music, it is one’s duty to drown it in conversation.”
“Sibyl is the only thing I care about. What is it to me where she came from? From her little head to her little feet, she is absolutely and entirely divine. Every night of my life I go to see her act, and every night she is more marvellous.”
Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility: Mr. Darcy looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would interfere. What could he mean? She was dying to know what could be his meaning--and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand him.
“Dost know nothing at all about whaling, I dare say—eh?
“How dreadful!” cried Lord Henry. “I can stand brute force, but brute reason is quite unbearable. There is something unfair about its use. It is hitting below the intellect.”
“Kill-e,” cried Queequeg, twisting his tattooed face into an unearthly expression of disdain, “ah! him bevy small-e fish-e; Queequeg no kill-e so small-e fish-e; Queequeg kill-e big whale!”
“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley.”
James Vane bit his lip. “Watch over Sibyl, Mother,” he cried, “watch over her.”
Then with a voice that shook the vaulted skies, The king insults the goddess as she flies: “Ill with Jove’s daughter bloody fights agree, The field of combat is no scene for thee: Go, let thy own soft sex employ thy care, Go, lull the coward, or delude the fair. Taught by this stroke renounce the war’s alarms, And learn to tremble at the name of arms.”
There was nothing so very particular, perhaps, about the appearance of the elderly man I saw; he was brown and brawny, like most old seamen, and heavily rolled up in blue pilot-cloth, cut in the Quaker style; only there was a fine and almost microscopic net-work of the minutest wrinkles interlacing round his eyes, which must have arisen from his continual sailings in many hard gales, and always looking to windward;—for this causes the muscles about the eyes to become pursed together. Such eye-wrinkles are very effectual in a scowl.
Moby-Dick — Chapter 18: The Ship (part 2/2)
The Iliad — Chapter 7: ARGUMENT. (part 1/2)