“Then she lay on her back and gazed at the cloudless sky. Mr. Beebe, whose opinion of her rose daily, whispered to his niece that that was the proper way to behave if any little thing went wrong.”

Source: A Room with a View

Last update June 3, 2021. History

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Do you have more details about the quote "Then she lay on her back and gazed at the cloudless sky. Mr. Beebe, whose opinion of her rose daily, whispered to his n…" by E.M. Forster?
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E.M. Forster 200
English novelist 1879–1970

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“Armida smiles to hear, but keeps her gaze
fixed on herself, love's labours to behold.
Her locks she braided and their wanton ways
in lovely order marshalled and controlled.
She wound the curls of her fine strands with sprays
of flowers, like enamel worked on gold,
and made the stranger rose join with her pale
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Ride Armida a quel dir: ma non che cesse
Dal vagheggiarsi, o da' suoi bei lavori.
Poichè intrecciò le chiome, e che ripresse
Con ordin vago i lor lascivi errori,
Torse in anella i crin minuti, e in esse,
Quasi smalto su l'or, consparse i fiori:
E nel bel sen le peregrine rose
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“Like a trembling hind pursued by a Hyrcanian tigress, or like a pigeon that checks her flight when she sees a hawk in the sky, or like a hare that dives into the thicket at sight of the eagle hovering with outstretched wings in the cloudless sky.”
...ceu tigride cerva Hyrcana cum pressa tremit, vel territa pennas colligit accipitrem cernens in nube columba, aut dumis subit, albenti si sensit in aethra librantem nisus aquilam, lepus.

Book V, lines 280–284
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“O she had not these ways
When all the wild summer was in her gaze.”

W.B. Yeats (1865–1939) Irish poet and playwright

The Folly Of Being Comforted http://poetry.poetryx.com/poems/1623/
In The Seven Woods (1904)
Context: One that is ever kind said yesterday:
'Your well-belovéd's hair has threads of grey,
And little shadows come about her eyes;
Time can but make it easier to be wise
Though now it seems impossible, and so
All that you need is patience.'
Heart cries, 'No,
I have not a crumb of comfort, not a grain.
Time can but make her beauty over again:
Because of that great nobleness of hers
The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs,
Burns but more clearly. O she had not these ways
When all the wild summer was in her gaze.'
O heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head,
You'd know the folly of being comforted.

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