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Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Massachusetts in the Army and Navy during the war of 1861-1865, vol. 2 16 0 Browse Search
Comte de Paris, History of the Civil War in America. Vol. 3. (ed. Henry Coppee , LL.D.) 10 0 Browse Search
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 12. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones) 10 0 Browse Search
Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing) 10 0 Browse Search
Knight's Mechanical Encyclopedia (ed. Knight) 6 0 Browse Search
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 1. (ed. Frank Moore) 6 0 Browse Search
Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, The Passing of the Armies: The Last Campaign of the Armies. 6 0 Browse Search
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall) 4 0 Browse Search
Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1 4 0 Browse Search
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore) 4 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing). You can also browse the collection for Diana or search for Diana in all documents.

Your search returned 5 results in 5 document sections:

Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing), chapter 4 (search)
it. Art. There are persons to whom a gallery is everywhere a home. In this country, the antique is known only by plaster casts, and by drawings. The Boston ATHENAeUM, —on whose sunny roof and beautiful chambers may the benediction of centuries of students rest with mine! —added to its library, in 1823, a small, but excellent museum of the antique sculpture, in plaster;—the selection being dictated, it is said, by no less an adviser than Canova. The Apollo, the Laocoon, the Venuses, Diana, the head of the Phidian Jove, Bacchus, Antinous, the Torso Hercules, the Discobolus, the Gladiator Borghese, the Apollino,—all these, and more, the sumptuous gift of Augustus Thorndike. It is much that one man should have power to confer on so many, who never saw him, a benefit so pure and enduring. To these were soon added a heroic line of antique busts, and, at last, by Horatio Greenough, the Night and Day of Michel Angelo. Here was old Greece and old Italy brought bodily to New En
Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing), V. Conversations in Boston. (search)
. Born from fire; a divine frenzy; the answer of the earth to the sun,—of the warmth of joy to the light of genius. He is beautiful, also; not severe in youthful beauty, like Apollo; but exuberant,— liable to excess. She spoke of the fables of his destroying Pentheus, &c., and suggested the interpretations. This Bacchus was found in Scripture. The Indian Bacchus is glowing; he is the genial apprehensive power; the glow of existence; mere joy. Venus was Grecian womanhood, instinctive; Diana, chastity; Mars, Grecian manhood, instinctive. Venus made the name for a conversation on Beauty, which was extended through four meetings, as it brought in irresistibly the related topics of poetry, genius, and taste. Neptune was Circumstance; Pluto, the Abyss, the Undeveloped; Pan, the glow and sportiveness and music of Nature; Ceres, the productive power of Nature; Proserpine, the Phenomenon. Under the head of Venus, in the fifth conversation, the story of Cupid and Psyche was told w
Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing), VI. Jamaica Plain. (search)
I longed to share it. The thought which filled my mind was that here we saw the type of pure feminine beauty in the moon's own flower. I have since had further opportunity of watching the Yuca, and verified these observations, that she will not flower till the full moon, and chooses to hide her beauty from the eye of day. Might not this be made into a true poem, if written out merely as history of the plant, and no observer introduced? How finely it harmonizes with all legends of Isis, Diana, &c.! It is what I tried to say in the sonnet,— Woman's heaven, Where palest lights a silvery sheen diffuse. In tracing these correspondences, one really does take hold of a Truth, of a Divine Thought. October 25th, 1840.—This week I have not read any book, nor once walked in the woods and fields. I meant to give its days to setting outward things in order, and its evenings to writing. But, I know not how it is, I can never simplify my life; always so many ties, so many claims!
Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing), chapter 10 (search)
ions, than all your formulas and conventions. Express your views, men, of what you seek in woman: thus best do you give them laws. Learn, women, what you should demand of men: thus only can they become themselves. Turn both from the contemplation of what is merely phenomenal in your existence, to your permanent life as souls. Man, do not prescribe how the Divine shall display itself in woman. Woman, do not expect to see all of God in man. Fellow-pilgrims and helpmeets are ye, Apollo and Diana, twins of one heavenly birth, both beneficent, and both armed. Man, fear not to yield to woman's hand both the quiver and the lyre; for if her urn be filled with light, she will use both to the glory of God. There is but one doctrine for ye both, and that is the doctrine of the soul. Thus, in communion with the serene loveliness of mother-earth, and inspired with memories of Isis and Ceres, of Minerva and Freia, and all the commanding forms beneath which earlier ages symbolized their s
Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing), chapter 11 (search)
can do but little. to C. S. Rome, Jan. 12, 1848.—My time in Lombardy and Switzerland was a series of beautiful pictures, dramatic episodes, not without some original life in myself. When I wrote to you from Como, I had a peaceful season. I floated on the lake with my graceful Polish countess, hearing her stories of heroic Sorrow; or I walked in the delicious gardens of the villas, with many another summer friend. Red banners floated, children sang and shouted, the lakes of Venus and Diana glittered in the sun. The pretty girls of Bellaggio, with their coral necklaces, brought flowers to the American countess, and hoped she would be as happy as she deserved. Whether this cautious wish is fulfilled, I know not, but certainly I left all the glitter of life behind at Como. My days at Milan were not unmarked. I have known some happy hours, but they all lead to sorrow; and not only the cups of wine, but of milk, seem drugged with poison for me. It does not seem to be my fault,