ISBN: 9781421806884

Occasionally the art of narrative may be improved by borrowing the method of the movies. Another night has passed, and we are called upon to imagine the watery sunlight of a mild winter a… mais…

Occasionally the art of narrative may be improved by borrowing the method of the movies. Another night has passed, and we are called upon to imagine the watery sunlight of a mild winter afternoon filtering through bare trees on the heads of a multitude. A large portion of Hampton Common is black with the people of sixteen nationalities who have gathered there, trampling down the snow, to listen wistfully and eagerly to a new doctrine of salvation. In the centre of this throng on the bandstand - reminiscent of concerts on sultry, summer nights - are the itinerant apostles of the cult called Syndicalism, exhorting by turns in divers tongues. Antonelli had spoken, and many others, when Janet, impelled by a craving not to be denied, had managed to push her way little by little from the outskirts of the crowd until now she stood almost beneath the orator who poured forth passionate words in a language she recognized as Italian. Her curiosity was aroused, she was unable to classify this tall man whose long and narrow face was accentuated by a pointed brown beard, whose lips gleamed red as he spoke, whose slim hands were eloquent. The artist as propagandist - the unsuccessful artist with more facility than will. The nose was classic, and wanted strength; the restless eyes that at times seemed fixed on her were smouldering windows of a burning house: the fire that stirred her was also consuming him. Though he could have been little more than five and thirty, his hair was thinned and greying at the temples. And somehow emblematic of this physiognomy and physique, summing it up and expressing it in terms of apparel, were the soft collar and black scarf tied in a flowing bow. Janet longed to know what he was saying. His phrases, like music, played on her emotions, and at last, when his voice rose in crescendo at the climax of his speech, she felt like weeping. | The Dwelling-place Of Light Vol 3 by Winston Churchill Hardcover | Indigo Chapters Books > Literary Criticism > Essays & Collections P10106, Winston Churchill<

ISBN: 9781421806884

Occasionally the art of narrative may be improved by borrowing the method of the movies. Another night has passed, and we are called upon to imagine the watery sunlight of a mild winter a… mais…

Occasionally the art of narrative may be improved by borrowing the method of the movies. Another night has passed, and we are called upon to imagine the watery sunlight of a mild winter afternoon filtering through bare trees on the heads of a multitude. A large portion of Hampton Common is black with the people of sixteen nationalities who have gathered there, trampling down the snow, to listen wistfully and eagerly to a new doctrine of salvation. In the centre of this throng on the bandstand - reminiscent of concerts on sultry, summer nights - are the itinerant apostles of the cult called Syndicalism, exhorting by turns in divers tongues. Antonelli had spoken, and many others, when Janet, impelled by a craving not to be denied, had managed to push her way little by little from the outskirts of the crowd until now she stood almost beneath the orator who poured forth passionate words in a language she recognized as Italian. Her curiosity was aroused, she was unable to classify this tall man whose long and narrow face was accentuated by a pointed brown beard, whose lips gleamed red as he spoke, whose slim hands were eloquent. The artist as propagandist - the unsuccessful artist with more facility than will. The nose was classic, and wanted strength; the restless eyes that at times seemed fixed on her were smouldering windows of a burning house: the fire that stirred her was also consuming him. Though he could have been little more than five and thirty, his hair was thinned and greying at the temples. And somehow emblematic of this physiognomy and physique, summing it up and expressing it in terms of apparel, were the soft collar and black scarf tied in a flowing bow. Janet longed to know what he was saying. His phrases, like music, played on her emotions, and at last, when his voice rose in crescendo at the climax of his speech, she felt like weeping. Trade Books>Hardcover>Fiction>Anthologies>Fic Anthologies, 1st World Library Core >2<

ISBN: 9781421806884

Hardback, [PU: 1st World Library - Literary Society], Occasionally the art of narrative may be improved by borrowing the method of the movies. Another night has passed, and we are called … mais…

Hardback, [PU: 1st World Library - Literary Society], Occasionally the art of narrative may be improved by borrowing the method of the movies. Another night has passed, and we are called upon to imagine the watery sunlight of a mild winter afternoon filtering through bare trees on the heads of a multitude. A large portion of Hampton Common is black with the people of sixteen nationalities who have gathered there, trampling down the snow, to listen wistfully and eagerly to a new doctrine of salvation. In the centre of this throng on the bandstand - reminiscent of concerts on sultry, summer nights - are the itinerant apostles of the cult called Syndicalism, exhorting by turns in divers tongues. Antonelli had spoken, and many others, when Janet, impelled by a craving not to be denied, had managed to push her way little by little from the outskirts of the crowd until now she stood almost beneath the orator who poured forth passionate words in a language she recognized as Italian. Her curiosity was aroused, she was unable to classify this tall man whose long and narrow face was accentuated by a pointed brown beard, whose lips gleamed red as he spoke, whose slim hands were eloquent. The artist as propagandist - the unsuccessful artist with more facility than will. The nose was classic, and wanted strength; the restless eyes that at times seemed fixed on her were smouldering windows of a burning house: the fire that stirred her was also consuming him. Though he could have been little more than five and thirty, his hair was thinned and greying at the temples. And somehow emblematic of this physiognomy and physique, summing it up and expressing it in terms of apparel, were the soft collar and black scarf tied in a flowing bow. Janet longed to know what he was saying. His phrases, like music, played on her emotions, and at last, when his voice rose in crescendo at the climax of his speech, she felt like weeping., Anthologies (non-poetry)<

ISBN: 9781421806884

The Dwelling-Place of Light Vol 3 ab 36.99 € als gebundene Ausgabe: . Aus dem Bereich: Bücher, English, International, Gebundene Ausgaben, Medien > Bücher nein Buch (gebunden) Hardcover;B… mais…

The Dwelling-Place of Light Vol 3 ab 36.99 € als gebundene Ausgabe: . Aus dem Bereich: Bücher, English, International, Gebundene Ausgaben, Medien > Bücher nein Buch (gebunden) Hardcover;Belletristik;Gemischte Anthologien, 1st World Library - Literary Society<

ISBN: 9781421806884

The Dwelling-Place of Light Vol 3 ab 37.99 € als gebundene Ausgabe: . Aus dem Bereich: Bücher, English, International, Gebundene Ausgaben, Medien > Bücher nein Buch (gebunden) Hardcover;B… mais…

The Dwelling-Place of Light Vol 3 ab 37.99 € als gebundene Ausgabe: . Aus dem Bereich: Bücher, English, International, Gebundene Ausgaben, Medien > Bücher nein Buch (gebunden) Hardcover;Belletristik;Gemischte Anthologien, 1st World Library - Literary Society<