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William Harrison Ainsworth

Rookwood

  • b5317260026has quoted6 years ago
    The eyes of the hound were glaring, blood-red; his tongue was hanging out, and a row of keen white fangs was displayed
  • Karina Petersenhas quoted6 years ago
    Shame! shame!
  • Karina Petersenhas quoted6 years ago
    He disowned me in life: in death I disown him. Sir Piers Rookwood was no father of mine."
  • Karina Petersenhas quoted6 years ago
    you are neither grandson of mine, nor offspring of his loins."
  • Karina Petersenhas quoted6 years ago
    Here's to the rest eternal of Sir Piers Rookwood!
  • Karina Petersenhas quoted6 years ago
    Peter Bradley, of Rookwood—comitatû Ebor—,
  • Karina Petersenhas quoted6 years ago
    had a truly Spanish warmth and intensity of coloring. His figure, when raised, was tall and masculine, and though slight, exhibited great personal vigor.
  • Karina Petersenhas quoted6 years ago
    proved to be that of a young man, of dark aspect, and grave, melancholy expression of countenance, approaching even to the stern, when at rest; though sufficiently animated and earnest when engaged in conversation, or otherwise excited.
  • Karina Petersenhas quoted6 years ago
    An old coffin upon a bier, we have said, served the mysterious twain for a seat.
  • Karina Petersenhas quoted6 years ago
    Modified by the German and French writers—by Hoffman, Tieck, Hugo, Dumas, Balzac, and Paul Lecroix (le Bibliophile Jacob)—the structure commenced in our own land by Horace Walpole, Monk Lewis, Mrs. Radcliffe, and Maturin, but left imperfect and inharmonious, requires, now that the rubbish which choked up its approach is removed, only the hand of the skilful architect to its entire renovation and perfection.
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