Johnyxxx
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- Oct 28, 2014
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Hello.
Can anybody explain to me what the author means by "eyes that look all things but only Heaven knows mean how little?"
It was an enthusiastic send-off. Half the students from her atelier were there, and twice as many more from other studios. She had been the belle of the Artists' Quarter in Montparnasse for three golden months. Now she was off to the Riviera to meet her people, and everyone she knew was at the Gare de Lyon to catch the last glimpse of her. And, as had been more than once said late of an evening, "to see her was to love her". She was one of those agitating blondes, with the naturally rippled hair, the rounded rose-leaf cheeks, the large violet-blue eyes, that looked all things and meant Heaven alone knew how little. She held her court like a queen, leaning out of the carriage window and receiving bouquets, books, journals, long last words, and last longing looks. All eyes were on her, and her eyes were for all-and her smile. For all but one, that is. Not a single glance went Edward's way, and Edward-tall, lean, gaunt, with big eyes, straight nose, and the mouth somewhat too small, too beautiful-seemed to grow thinner and paler before one's eyes.
The Power Of Darkness, Edit Nesbith, 1905.
Thank you very much.
Can anybody explain to me what the author means by "eyes that look all things but only Heaven knows mean how little?"
It was an enthusiastic send-off. Half the students from her atelier were there, and twice as many more from other studios. She had been the belle of the Artists' Quarter in Montparnasse for three golden months. Now she was off to the Riviera to meet her people, and everyone she knew was at the Gare de Lyon to catch the last glimpse of her. And, as had been more than once said late of an evening, "to see her was to love her". She was one of those agitating blondes, with the naturally rippled hair, the rounded rose-leaf cheeks, the large violet-blue eyes, that looked all things and meant Heaven alone knew how little. She held her court like a queen, leaning out of the carriage window and receiving bouquets, books, journals, long last words, and last longing looks. All eyes were on her, and her eyes were for all-and her smile. For all but one, that is. Not a single glance went Edward's way, and Edward-tall, lean, gaunt, with big eyes, straight nose, and the mouth somewhat too small, too beautiful-seemed to grow thinner and paler before one's eyes.
The Power Of Darkness, Edit Nesbith, 1905.
Thank you very much.