eBooks „sketch“
345 eBooks were found for the search term „sketch“.
F Marion Crawford
A Roman Singer
- Fiction
- English
- 96130 Words
- Ages 18 and up
- 2
He was born at Bagni di Lucca, Italy, the only son of the American sculptor Thomas Crawford and Louisa Cutler Ward, the brother of writer Mary Crawford Fraser (aka Mrs. Hugh Fraser), and the nephew of Julia Ward Howe, the American poet. He studied successively at St Paul's School, Concord, New Hampshire; Cambridge University; University of Heidelberg; and the University of Rome.
In 1879 he went to India, where he studied Sanskrit and edited in Allahabad The Indian Herald. Returning to America in February 1881, he continued to study Sanskrit at Harvard University for a year and for two years contributed to various periodicals, mainly The Critic. Early in 1882 he established his lifelong close friendship with Isabella Stewart Gardner.
During this period he lived most of the time in Boston at his Aunt Julia Ward Howe's house and in the company of his Uncle, Sam Ward. His family was concerned about his employment prospects. They suggested that he become a professional singer; he had a baritone voice and had entertained friends with recitals of songs by Franz Schubert. In January 1882, his family asked George Henschel, who was then conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, to assess whether Crawford was capable of a professional singing career. Henschel told Crawford and his family that he would "never be able to sing in perfect tune. Crawford was distraught by the news; after a long silence, his uncle Sam then asked him, "Why don't you write down that little story you told me some time ago of that strange experience you had in India — don't you know?"[1]
In December 1882 he produced his first novel, Mr Isaacs, a sketch of modern Anglo-Indian life mingled with a touch of Oriental mystery. This book had an immediate success, and its author's promise was confirmed by the publication of Dr Claudius (1883). In May 1883 he returned to Italy, where he made his permanent home. His residence at the historic Hotel Cocumella in Sorrento during 1885 moved him to settle permanently in Sant' Agnello, where in the Fall he bought the Villa Renzi that became Villa Crawford. Over one half of his novels are set in Italy. He wrote three long historical studies of Italy and was well advanced with a history of Rome in the Middle Ages when he died. This accounts perhaps for the fact that, despite his nationality, Marion Crawford's books stand apart from any distinctively American current in literature. [more]
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Henry Kirke White
The Poetical Works of Henry Kirke White
With a Memoir by Sir Harris Nicolas
- Fiction
- English
- 57753 Words
- Ages 18 and up
- 2
White was born in Nottingham, the son of a butcher, a trade for which he was himself intended. However, he was greatly attracted to book-learning. By age seven, he was giving reading lessons (unbeknownst to the rest of the family, being offered after the household were abed) to a family servant.[1] After being briefly apprenticed to a stocking-weaver, he was articled to a lawyer. While in this position, he excelled in studying Latin and Greek.[2] Seeing the results of White's diligent studies, his master offered to release him from his contract if he had sufficient means to go to college. He received encouragement from Capel Lofft, the friend of Robert Bloomfield, and published in 1803 Clifton Grove, a Sketch in Verse, with other Poems, dedicated to Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. The book was violently attacked in the Monthly Review (February 1804), but White was rewarded with a kind letter from Robert Southey.
Through the efforts of his friends, he was able to enter St John's College, Cambridge,[3][4] having spent a year beforehand with a private tutor, the Rev Lorenzo Grainger at Winteringham, Lincolnshire. Close application to study induced a serious illness, consumption was the disease, according to Sir Harris Nicholas memoir, to which he ultimately became a victim, and to which White made many allusions in his poems and letters.[5] Fears were also entertained for his sanity, but he went into residence at Cambridge, with a view to taking holy orders, in the autumn of 1805. The strain of continuous study proved fatal.[6] He was buried in the church of All Saints Jewry, Cambridge, which stood opposite the gates of St John's College, but has since been demolished. The genuine piety of his religious verses secured a place in popular hymnology for some of his hymns, in particular the still popular 'O Lord, another day is flown'.[7] Much of his fame was due to sympathy inspired by his early death; but Lord Byron agreed with Southey about the young man's promise. Robert Southey said of him 'he could not rest satisfied till he had formed his principles upon the basis of Christianity [more]
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Annie Besant
The Ancient Wisdom
- Religion
- English
- 75173 Words
- No Age Recommendation
- 225
- 2
The source from which a universe proceeds is a manifested Divine Being, to whom in the modern form of the Ancient Wisdom the name LOGOS, or Word has been given. The name is drawn from Greek Philosophy, but perfectly expresses the ancient idea, the Word which emerges from the Silence, the Voice, the Sound, by which the worlds come into being. We must now trace the evolution of spirit-matter, in order that we may understand something of the nature of the materials with which we have to deal on the physical plane, or physical world. For it is in the potentialities wrapped up, involved, in the spirit-matter of the physical world that lies the possibility of evolution. The whole process is an unfolding, self-moved from within and aided by intelligent beings without, who can retard or quicken evolution, but cannot transcend the capacities inherent in the materials. Some idea of these earliest stages of the world’s “becoming” is therefore necessary, although any attempt to go into minute details would carry us far beyond the limits of such an elementary treatise as the present. A very cursory sketch must suffice.
Coming forth from the depths of the One Existence, from the ONE beyond all thought and all speech, a LOGOS, by imposing on Himself a limit, circumscribing voluntarily the range of His own Being, becomes the manifested God, and tracing the limiting sphere of His activity thus outlines the area of His universe. Within that sphere the universe is born, is evolved, and dies ; it lives, it moves, it has its being in Him ; its matter is His emanation ; its forces and energies are currents of His Life ; He is immanent in every atom, all-pervading, all-sustaining, all-evolving ; He is its source and its end, its cause and its object, its centre and circumference ; it is built on Him as its sure foundation, it breathes in Him as its encircling space ; He is in everything and everything in Him. Thus have the sages of the Ancient Wisdom taught us of the beginning of the manifested worlds. [more]
Keywords: the ancient wisdom, annie besant, esoteric and occult, ancient mysteries, new age spirituality, theosophy, god
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F. MARION CRAWFORD
A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH
- Letters
- English
- 110344 Words
- Ages 18 and up
- 2
Francis Marion Crawford (August 2, 1854 – April 9, 1909) was an American writer noted for his many novels, especially those set in Italy, and for his classic weird and fantastic stories.
Contents [hide]
1 Life
2 Legacy
3 Bibliography
3.1 Novels
3.2 Nonfiction
3.3 Drama
4 See also
5 Notes
6 References
7 Further Reading
8 External links
Life[edit]
He was born at Bagni di Lucca, Italy, the only son of the American sculptor Thomas Crawford and Louisa Cutler Ward, the brother of writer Mary Crawford Fraser (aka Mrs. Hugh Fraser), and the nephew of Julia Ward Howe, the American poet. He studied successively at St Paul's School, Concord, New Hampshire; Cambridge University; University of Heidelberg; and the University of Rome.
In 1879 he went to India, where he studied Sanskrit and edited in Allahabad The Indian Herald. Returning to America in February 1881, he continued to study Sanskrit at Harvard University for a year and for two years contributed to various periodicals, mainly The Critic. Early in 1882 he established his lifelong close friendship with Isabella Stewart Gardner.
During this period he lived most of the time in Boston at his Aunt Julia Ward Howe's house and in the company of his Uncle, Sam Ward. His family was concerned about his employment prospects. They suggested that he become a professional singer; he had a baritone voice and had entertained friends with recitals of songs by Franz Schubert. In January 1882, his family asked George Henschel, who was then conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, to assess whether Crawford was capable of a professional singing career. Henschel told Crawford and his family that he would "never be able to sing in perfect tune. Crawford was distraught by the news; after a long silence, his uncle Sam then asked him, "Why don't you write down that little story you told me some time ago of that strange experience you had in India — don't you know?"[1]
In December 1882 he produced his first novel, Mr Isaacs, a sketch of modern Anglo-Indian life mingled with a touch of Oriental mystery. This book had an immediate success, and its author's promise was confirmed by the publication of Dr Claudius (1883). In May 1883 he returned to Italy, where he made his permanent home. His residence at the historic Hotel Cocumella in Sorrento during 1885 moved him to settle permanently in Sant' Agnello, where in the Fall he bought the Villa Renzi that became Villa Crawford. Over one half of his novels are set in Italy. He wrote three long historical studies of Italy and was well advanced with a history of Rome in the Middle Ages when he died. This accounts perhaps for the fact that, despite his nationality, Marion Crawford's books stand apart from any distinctively American current in literature.
In October 1884 he married Elizabeth Berdan, the daughter of the American Civil War Union Gen. Hiram Berdan. They had two sons and two daughters.
Francis Marion Crawford
Year by year Crawford published a number of successf [more]
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Azeezat Oluwa
Broken Tales
Volume one in the Broken Tales Series
- Fantasy
- English
- 7694 Words
- Ages 14 and up
- 424
- 1
It has been three months since she died. 91 days, 2,184 hours I have not been taking it well. I refuse to get out of my room. Uncle Max tries to come in but I don’t let anybody in. I hear voices from down the hall. Uncle Max is talking to someone .
“ She won’t let anyone in,” Says Max.
“ Not even the boyfriend?” asked someone else.
“ Yeah,”
Someone very unfamiliar walks into the room. I throw my pillow at the person.
“ Go away,”
“ Makaila I am doctor Johnson,” He says.
“ What do you want,”
“ I want to help you get over her,”
Her. He was talking about Karla. Karla, Karla. All of a sudden the ground rushes to me, and the darkness rushes over me.
I wake up to an unfamiliar room. Has white walls,blue curtains. Something is hooked onto my hand and I hear beeping. I see Jason and Max standing in the corner. Jason walks over sensing I am awake.
“ Max can you please give us a minute,” Jason asked. Uncle Max just sighed and left the room.
“ Makaila, do you know how worried we were?” I didn’t answer. “ Hey listen to me. I will find who killed her”
“ Who?” I asked. “ Who killed my sister?”
“ Makaila calm down. Let me explain. So I was looking at the body,”
“ Wait,” I said. “ You were looking at the body. Did you open the casket,”
“ If that’s what you want to call it. Anyways I was looking at the body and I found what the police called ‘scratch marks ‘ were actually vampire teeth marks,”
My body froze. I couldn’t get the words right in my brain.
“ What?” I was very surprised.
“ Nobody in my family knows who killed her but it must be someone that has contact to your family,”
“ I don't know anybody who would do such a thing. I mean she was only seven. “Sometimes I wish I was the one that died and not my parents nor Karla,”
Jason held my face with both hands, “ Snap out of it Makaila. I would kill myself if something happened to you,”
“ Why would you kill yourself?”
“ Because I love you,” Suddenly he held my face with both hands and kissed me with joy I have never felt before..
I am going home today. Uncle Max is making me go to school tomorrow. I am still trying to get over Karla but, that can never happen. When we got home it was nighttime so I just went into my bathroom to get ready for bed and that is when I saw her. She looked perfect. Not like the last time I saw her. Her clothes were not spattered with blood. Her hair was not out of place. Her face was perfect.
Karla.
I screamed at the top of my lungs. My head was starting to hurt. It hurt more than a migraine. Like I was being stabbed in the stomach. The migraine stopped abruptly and she was gone. Max was by my side rocking me back and forth. I don't know how long we sat there . I must have fell asleep because when my alarm sounded I was in bed. I checked the time and it was seven. I quickly got ready for school. I did not even bother to straighten my hair. I left it in its curly self and got into the toyota. When I got to school there was a girl I have never seen before in my seat.
“ Excuse me. Hi,” I said. “ My name is Makaila,”
“ My name Isabella,” She said with a thick puerto rican accent.
“ Ok. We sort of have assigned seats and you would be seating in mine,”
“ Oh. I so sorry,” She said seating in the seat next to me . The bell indicating class has started rang.
“ Class today we are going to learn about integrals,” Everyone groaned.
The bell rang after 45 minutes of boring integrals. As I stood up I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“ Hi. Will you help me find my next class.” Isabella said as she handed me her schedule. I saw we had the same schedule.
“ What instrument do you play?” I asked noticing she also had orchestra.
“ Cello,” She said.
“ Cool I play the violin,”
We started walking down the hall. I felt arms around my waist.
“Hey,” I said turning to see Jason. “ Jason this is Isabella she is new,”
“ Hola,” Jason said to Isabella in fluent spanish.
“ Hola,” She said back. “ Como Estas? “
“ Bien. Y tu?” Jason said.
“ Bien,”
I just stood there like what the heck are they saying.
“ So Isabella how do you like the school so far?” I asked.
“ It is good. It is so big. Schools in puerto rico are not this big,”
The one minute bell rang. Jason gave me a quick peck on the lips and went the other way.
At the end of the day I grabbed my keys from my bag and started walking towards my car. As I was walking to my car there was the migraine again. I screamed and grabbed my hair. I dropped to my knees. I saw her at the window of my car. This time she was not alone . My parents were sitting next to her. I closed my eyes and reopened them. They were gone . Jason was next to me . Followed by Isabella, followed by the nurse. Jason helped me get up. Suddenly I noticed everyone was staring.
“ Are you okay?” The nurse asked, “ What happened?”
I took a deep breath. “ I don't know what happened. One minute I was walking to my car, the next I have this huge migraine,”
The nurse indicated for me to follow her. “ Follow me,”
She led me into her office . She indicated for me to sit down. I watched as she was typing something into her computer. She checked my blood pressure and my temperature . My bp was normal but, my temp was a little over 101.
“ Looks like you have a fever,” She said. “ I am gonna have to call your uncle to come pick you up,”
“ No. Thats okay. I can drive her,” Jason chimed in.
“ What about my car,”
“ Isabella will drive it,” I even forgot Isabella was in here .
“ Yes. I will drive your car,” Isabella said.
“ Okay It's settled then,” The nurse said picking up my printouts with medications to get.
When we got outside I asked Isabella for my car keys.
“ The nurse said Jason should drive you home,” she said.
“ Well In my car,” She handed over the keys. I handed it to Jason. We waved bye to Isabella and promised that she would pick me up up in the morning.
Jason and I got into the car. He started driving but he stopped at Mcdonalds. He pecked me on the lips and got out of the car and went around to open my door. So gentlemanly. We sat across from each other at a booth.
“ What are we doing here,” I asked as we settled in.
“ I know what happened was not because of a fever,”
“ Okay. This is not the first time it happened,”
“ What do you mean?”
“ I was in the bathroom. The day I got back from the hospital. I had saw her in the mirror. I had this migraine, like the one I just got. I saw her in the car window this time,”
“ Wow. I don't know what to say. What do you think it means?”
“ I don't know. I have never experience this. But get this, I saw my parents with her this time,” I said. I felt hot tears coming down. Jason got up and put his arms around me .
“ Hey. Its okay. Come on. I want to show you a place,” We went into my car and drove for what seems like an hour into a big high meadow. The snow was covering up a lot of the meadow. We got out of the car.
“ This place is beautiful,” I said breaking the silence . “You could see the whole city here . Places like the town center and the museum of art. I have always wanted to go to an art museum. Learn visual arts,”
“ We could go to the art museum. I can teach you how to draw and sketch thing,”
“ We can. I could teach you violin if you want. You know what's weird?”
“ What?” He asked.
“ We have been together for more than three months and we don't even know each other's birthday,”
“ Weird. Okay I will go first. Mine is in October. October 27th,”
“ Happy belated birthday,” I said. We were in February now. “ Mine was November 1st,”
“ Happy belated birthday too. How old are you?”
“ You don't ask a lady her age but, I just turned 18 so I am technically a legal adult. How old are you? In both vampire and human years,”
“ I am 22 in human years. I am 130 in vampire,”
“ Why are you in highschool?” I asked.
“ Because my parents wanted me to get a degree in college so I have to pass high school first,”
“ Oh. You know we have to start applying for college soon. “
“ I figured. What school were you thinking of? I was thinking SUU. Southern Utah University,”
“ Oh really? What does that have?” I asked.
“ It has theatre, dance, performing arts, and spanish,’’
He shrugged
‘’ I’m not sure yet which college i'm going to,’’
‘’ look at us we're talking about ‘school’ ‘
“ Do you always come here?” I asked. [more]
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