Jul 13, 2008

Edgar Degas paintings

SCARLETT: Sherman will bum the house over our heads if we stay. It's all right, Melanie, it's all right. MELANIE: There, there.... little baby.. RHETT: Have you the strength to put your arms around my neck?MELANIE: I think so. RHETT: Never mind. MELANIE: Oh,Ashley..Charles! RHETT: What is it? What does she want? SCARLETT: Ashley's picture and Charles' sword, she wants us to bring them. RHETT: Get them.(They venture all the way. At last they are pretty near Tara. Rhett suddenly stops.) SCARLETT: Why did you stop? RHETT: This is the turn to Tara. I let the horse breathe a bit. Mrs. Wilkes...PRISSY: Miss Melanie done fainted way back. Captain Butler. RHETT: She's probably better off. She couldn't stand the pain if she were conscious. Scarlett, are you still determined to

Jul 9, 2008

Franz Marc paintings

old and I was sister and mother to him both. Poor little lad, he was never strong, and he died when he wasn't much over twenty. Seems to me I'd have given anything on earth, Anne, dearie, if he'd only lived."
Miss Cornelia sighed. Gilbert had gone down and Leslie, who had been crooning over the small James Matthew in the dormer window, laid him asleep in his basket and went her way. As soon as she was safely out of earshot, Miss Cornelia bent forward and said in a conspirator's whisper:
"Anne, dearie, I'd a letter from Owen Ford yesterday. He's in Vancouver just now, but he wants to know if I can board him for a month later on. You know what that means. Well, I hope we're doing right."
"We've nothing to do with it--we couldn't prevent him from coming to Four Winds if he wanted to," said Anne quickly. She did not like the feeling of match-making Miss Cornelia's whispers gave her; and then she weakly succumbed herself.
"Don't let Leslie know he is coming until he is here," she said. "If she found

Edwin Austin Abbey paintings

eyes will be hazel and his forehead is exactly like Gilbert's."
"And he has the nicest little ears, Mrs. Doctor, dear," said Susan. "The first thing I did was to look at his ears. Hair is deceitful and noses and eyes change, and you cannot tell what is going to come of them, but ears is ears from start to finish, and you always know where you are with them. Just look at their shape--and they are set right back against his precious head. You will never need to be ashamed of his ears, Mrs. Doctor, dear."
Anne's convalescence was rapid and happy. Folks came and worshipped the baby, as people have bowed before the kingship of the new-born since long before the Wise Men of the East knelt in homage to the Royal Babe of the Bethlehem manger. Leslie, slowly finding herself amid the new conditions of her life, hovered over it, like a beautiful, golden-crowned Madonna. Miss Cornelia nursed it as knackily as could any mother in Israel. Captain Jim held the small creature in his big brown hands and gazed tenderly at it, with eyes that saw the children who

Jul 8, 2008

William Bouguereau Evening Mood painting

surroundings--Miss Cornelia and Captain Jim would scarcely have recognized her; Anne found it hard to believe that this was the cold, unresponsive woman she had met on the shore--this animated girl who talked and listened with the eagerness of a starved soul. And how hungrily Leslie's eyes looked at the bookcases between the windows!
"Our library isn't very extensive," said Anne, "but every book in it is a friend. We've picked our books up through the years, here and there, never buying one until we had first read it and knew that it belonged to the race of Joseph."
Leslie laughed--beautiful laughter that seemed akin to all the mirth that had echoed through the little house in the vanished years.
"I have a few books of father's--not many," she said. "I've read them until I know them almost by heart. I don't get many books. There's a circulating library at the Glen store--but I don't think the committee who pick the books for Mr. Parker know what books are of Joseph's race--or perhaps they don't care. It was so seldom I got one I really liked that I gave up getting any."

William Bouguereau Evening Mood painting

surroundings--Miss Cornelia and Captain Jim would scarcely have recognized her; Anne found it hard to believe that this was the cold, unresponsive woman she had met on the shore--this animated girl who talked and listened with the eagerness of a starved soul. And how hungrily Leslie's eyes looked at the bookcases between the windows!
"Our library isn't very extensive," said Anne, "but every book in it is a friend. We've picked our books up through the years, here and there, never buying one until we had first read it and knew that it belonged to the race of Joseph."
Leslie laughed--beautiful laughter that seemed akin to all the mirth that had echoed through the little house in the vanished years.
"I have a few books of father's--not many," she said. "I've read them until I know them almost by heart. I don't get many books. There's a circulating library at the Glen store--but I don't think the committee who pick the books for Mr. Parker know what books are of Joseph's race--or perhaps they don't care. It was so seldom I got one I really liked that I gave up getting any."

Claude Monet The Red Boats Argenteuil painting

you mind if she's stiff by times-- don't notice it. Remember what her life has been--and is--and must always be, I suppose, for creatures like Dick Moore live forever, I understand. You should see how fat he's got since he came home. He used to be lean enough. Just make her be friends--you can do it--you're one of those who have the knack. Only you mustn't be sensitive. And don't mind if she doesn't seem to want you to go over there much. She knows that some women don't like to be where Dick is--they complain he gives them the creeps. Just get her to come over here as often as she can. She can't get away so very much--she can't leave Dick long, for the Lord knows what he'd do--burn the house down most likely. At nights, after he's in bed and asleep, is about the only time she's free. He always goes to bed early and sleeps like the dead till next morning. That is how you came to meet her at the shore likely. She wanders there considerable."
"I will do everything I can for her," said Anne. Her interest in Leslie Moore, which had been vivid ever since she had seen her driving her geese down the hill, was intensified a thousand fold by Miss Cornelia's narration. The girl's beauty and sorrow and loneliness drew her with an irresistible fascination. She had never known anyone like her; her friends had hitherto been wholesome, normal, merry girls like herself, with only the average trials of human care and

Jul 7, 2008

Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot paintings

I -- I haven't decided yet," answered Anne, with a confused flush.
Phil nodded understandingly. Naturally Anne's plans could not be settled until Roy had spoken. He would soon -- there was no doubt of that. And there was no doubt that Anne would say "yes" when he said "Will you please?" Anne herself regarded the state of affairs with a seldom-ruffled complacency. She was deeply in love with Roy. True, it was not just what she had imagined love to be. But was anything in life, Anne asked herself wearily, like one's imagination of it? It was the old diamond disillusion of childhood repeated -- the same disappointment she had felt when she had first seen the chill sparkle instead of the purple splendor she had anticipated. "That's not my idea of a diamond," she had said. But Roy was a dear fellow and they would be very happy together, even if some indefinable zest was missing out of life. When Roy came down that evening and asked Anne to walk in the park every one at Patty's Place knew what he had come to say; and every one knew, or thought they knew, what Anne's answer would be.
"Anne is a very fortunate girl," said Aunt Jamesina.
"I suppose so," said Stella, shrugging her shoulders. "Roy is a nice fellow and all that. But there's really nothing in him."