The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent

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John W. Lovell, 1882 - 374 páginas

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LibraryThing Review

Crítica de los usuarios  - m.belljackson - LibraryThing

4-5 Stars for Rip and Ichabod, 3 or less for most of the other fiction. Early in the book, Irving offers maybe the first literary mention of throwing shade: (talking about "great men") "I have mingled ... Leer comentario completo

LibraryThing Review

Crítica de los usuarios  - haloedrain - LibraryThing

4 stars for Rip Van Winkle and Sleepy Hollow. The rest are skippable, they read like the kind of op-ed that spawns lots of other op-eds and blog posts disagreeing with each other. Leer comentario completo

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Página 50 - There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a thin, piping voice, "Nicholas Vedder! why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years! There was a wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten and gone too.
Página 48 - Washington. There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco smoke instead of idle speeches; or Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient newspaper.
Página 44 - Their visages, too, were peculiar; one had a large beard, broad face, and small piggish eyes; the face of another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugar-loaf hat set off with a little red cock's tail. They all had beards, of various shapes and colors. There was one who seemed to be the commander.
Página 340 - ... frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large, green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weathercock perched upon his spindle neck to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield.
Página 47 - ... in the country round. Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from that to which he was accustomed.
Página 39 - ... the most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole country; everything about it went wrong, and would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences were continually falling to pieces; his cow would either go astray, or get among the cabbages; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his fields than anywhere else; the rain always made a point of setting in just as he had some out-door work to do; so that though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away under his management, acre by acre, until there was...
Página 49 - Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question, when a knowing, self-important old gentleman in a sharp cocked hat made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded in an austere tone what brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder and a mob at his heels, and whether...
Página 40 - Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much henpecked as his master j. for Dame Van Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's going so often astray.
Página 365 - On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellowtraveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck, on perceiving that he was headless! — but his horror was still more increased, on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of...
Página 150 - ... if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart which now lies cold and still beneath thy feet ; then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul...

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