Life and Letters of Louis Moreau GottschalkOliver Ditson, 1870 - 213 Seiten |
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Seite 55
... tion , in some manner represent the breadth of a full orchestra , and ring at once through all the compass of its seven octaves . Now , Beethoven and composers of creative genius write secondarily for the piano , but primarily for art ...
... tion , in some manner represent the breadth of a full orchestra , and ring at once through all the compass of its seven octaves . Now , Beethoven and composers of creative genius write secondarily for the piano , but primarily for art ...
Seite 66
... tion ; we have heard none more brilliant , but are not yet prepared to say that Jaell's was less so . Gottschalk's touch is the most clear and crisp and beautiful that we have ever known . His play is free and bold and sure and graceful ...
... tion ; we have heard none more brilliant , but are not yet prepared to say that Jaell's was less so . Gottschalk's touch is the most clear and crisp and beautiful that we have ever known . His play is free and bold and sure and graceful ...
Seite 70
... tion is ( or rather was ) measured on the Procus- tean bed of the " Journal of Music " dared not publicly honor him . To one man , indeed , do the friends of Gotts- chalk turn with love and reverence ; for among the noblest acts in the ...
... tion is ( or rather was ) measured on the Procus- tean bed of the " Journal of Music " dared not publicly honor him . To one man , indeed , do the friends of Gotts- chalk turn with love and reverence ; for among the noblest acts in the ...
Seite 74
... tion of Ariadne . ' To me it is full of soft , seductive wiles : you can lose yourself in untying the silken braids of har- mony ; and when untied , and you hold them in your com prehension , it is nothing but womanly love which can ...
... tion of Ariadne . ' To me it is full of soft , seductive wiles : you can lose yourself in untying the silken braids of har- mony ; and when untied , and you hold them in your com prehension , it is nothing but womanly love which can ...
Seite 147
... . It was impossible to hesitate or falter , upheld ' by such accompaniment : the applause her execu- tion received was due more to the pianiste than to her own merit . : Well , am I foolish , or not , LOUIS MOREAU GOTTSCHALK . 147.
... . It was impossible to hesitate or falter , upheld ' by such accompaniment : the applause her execu- tion received was due more to the pianiste than to her own merit . : Well , am I foolish , or not , LOUIS MOREAU GOTTSCHALK . 147.
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
adagio admiration American amusing arpeggios artist audience Bamboula Bananier beautiful Beethoven Boston Brignoli brilliant brother child Chopin chord compositions concert concert-room Criollos criticism dear dreams exquisite eyes F. G. HILL fantasia feel flash gave genius give Gotts grand hand happy harmony Havana hear heard heart Hector Berlioz inspired intellectual Irving Hall kind knew lady Last Hope laugh letter listen look Louis Gottschalk Louis Moreau Gottschalk Madame Marche medal melody ment mind Montevideo Moonlight Sonata murmur musician nature never night noble nom de plume octaves once orchestra Paris Paris Conservatoire passionate pianist piano played poetic poor pupil received render replied returned savanna seemed sister smile society Sonata song sorrow soul sound Spanish speak spirit sweet sympathy symphonies talent tears tell thee thing thought thrill tion told tone tropical true truth voice weary words York young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 17 - And there shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie : but they which are written in the Lamb's book of life.
Seite 136 - And inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me...
Seite 21 - ... seemed the harmonious echo From our discordant life. It linked all perplexed meanings Into one perfect peace, And trembled away into silence As if it were loth to cease. I have sought, but I seek it vainly, That one lost chord divine, Which came from the soul of the Organ, And entered into mine.
Seite 161 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
Seite 157 - ... fall, and miss Thee so Who art not missed by any that entreat. Speak to me as to Mary at Thy feet ! And if no precious gums my hands bestow, Let my tears drop like amber while I go In reach of Thy divinest voice complete In humanest affection — thus, in sooth, To lose the sense of losing. As a child, Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore, Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled, He sleeps the faster that he wept before.
Seite 35 - All my life long, I have beheld with most respect the man Who knew himself, and knew the ways before him, And from amongst them chose considerately, With a clear foresight, not a blindfold courage ; And having chosen, with a steadfast mind Pursued his purposes.
Seite 150 - Nor named thee but to praise. Tears fell when thou wert dying, From eyes unused to weep, And long, where thou art lying, Will tears the cold turf steep. When hearts, whose truth was proven, Like thine, are laid in earth, There should a wreath be woven To tell the world their worth...
Seite 35 - I go to prove my soul! I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive ! what time, what circuit first, I ask not: but unless God send his hail Or blinding fireballs, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: He guides me and the bird. In his good time!
Seite 150 - ... thou art lying, Will tears the cold turf steep. When hearts, whose truth was proven, Like thine, are laid in earth, There should a wreath be woven To tell the world their worth. And I, who woke each morrow To clasp thy hand in mine, Who shared thy joy and sorrow, Whose weal and woe were thine : It should be mine to braid it Around thy faded brow, But I've in vain essayed it, And feel I cannot now.
Seite 150 - ... wreath be woven To tell the world their worth. And I, who woke each morrow To clasp thy hand in mine, Who shared thy joy and sorrow, Whose weal and woe were thine: It should be mine to braid it Around thy faded brow, But I've in vain essayed it, And feel I cannot now. While memory bids me weep thee, Nor thoughts nor words are free, The grief is fixed too deeply That mourns a man like thee.