Altar

Xem 1-14 trên 14 kết quả Altar
  • Tham khảo sách 'the altar at midnight', kỹ thuật - công nghệ, tự động hoá phục vụ nhu cầu học tập, nghiên cứu và làm việc hiệu quả

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  • .About Kornbluth: Cyril Michael Kornbluth (July 23, 1923–March 21, 1958 — pen-names: Cecil Corwin, S.D. Gottesman, Edward J. Bellin, Kenneth Falconer, Walter C. Davies, Simon Eisner, Jordan Park) was an American science fiction author and a notable member of the Futurians. Kornbluth was born in New York City. Kornbluth served in the US Army during World War II (European Theatre). He received a Bronze Star for his service in the Battle of the Bulge. After his discharge, he returned to finish his education, which had been interrupted by the war, at the University of Chicago...

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  • He had done many things in the world—he had done almost all but one: he had never, never forgotten. He had tried to put into his existence whatever else might take up room in it, but had failed to make it more than a house of which the mistress was eternally absent.

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  • T ..PREFACE It will perhaps be said, and truly felt, that the following is a morbid book. No doubt the subject is a morbid one, because the book deliberately gives a picture of a diseased spirit. But a pathological treatise, dealing with cancer or paralysis, is not necessarily morbid, though it may be studied in a morbid mood. We have learnt of late years, to our gain and profit, to think and speak of bodily ailments as natural phenomena, not to slur over them and hide them away in attics and bedrooms. We no longer think of insanity as demoniacal possession,...

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  • She had been buried in a London suburb, a part then of Nature's breast, but which he had seen lose one after another every feature of freshness. It was in truth during the moments he stood there that his eyes beheld the place least. They looked at another image, they opened to another light. Was it a credible future? Was it an

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  • The only characters played by the ones that also played in “Something Wicca This Way Comes” are Prue, Piper, Roger, Jeremy, and Chef Moore. [Scene: A witch's apartment. She puts down a bowl of food for her cat. (Later known as Kit.)] Woman: Here baby. Come on, baby. Good girl. (She walks over to her altar and lights the candles with just a touch of her finger. You see someone standing outside her window. She starts chanting a spell. Someone walks by the cat, scaring it away.) Ancient one of the earth so deep, master of moon and sun. I...

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  • Written by: Constance M. Burge Transcribed by: Shay Fitzpatrick Season 1, Episode 01 Episode Number: 01 [Scene: Serena Fredrick's apartment. She puts down a bowl of food for her cat. (Later known as Kit.)] Serena Fredrick: Come on, baby. Good girl. (She walks over to her altar and lights the candles with just a touch of her finger. You see someone standing outside her window. She starts saying a spell.) Ancient one of the earth so deep, master of moon and sun. I shield you in my wiccan way, here in my circle round, asking you to protect this space, and...

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  • From the primitive pine-torch to the paraffin candle, how wide an interval! between them how vast a contrast! The means adopted by man to illuminate his home at night, stamp at once his position in the scale of civilisation. The fluid bitumen of the far East, blazing in rude vessels of baked earth; the Etruscan lamp, exquisite in form, yet ill adapted to its office; the whale, seal, or bear fat, filling the hut of the Esquimaux .or Lap with odour rather than light; the huge wax candle on the glittering altar, the range of gas lamps in our streets,--all...

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  • In 1204 some of the finest churches in Christendom were ransacked and the precious icons and relics were divided up among the plunderers. They snatched reliquaries from altars, forced open chests filled with holy treasures, stripped gold and silver metalwork from church fixtures. In their haste they spilled the sacramental wine over the marble floor, where it might mingle with the blood of any priest who stood in their way.

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  • It will perhaps be said, and truly felt, that the following is a morbid book. No doubt the subject is a morbid one, because the book deliberately gives a picture of a diseased spirit. But a pathological treatise, dealing with cancer or paralysis, is not necessarily morbid, though it may be studied in a morbid mood. We have learnt of late years, to our gain and profit, to think and speak of bodily ailments as natural phenomena, not to slur over them and hide them away in attics and bedrooms. We no longer think of insanity as demoniacal possession, and we no longer immure people...

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  • That the family of the Octavii was of the first distinction in Velitrae [106], is rendered evident by many circumstances. For in the most frequented part of the town, there was, not long since, a street named the Octavian; and an altar was to be seen, consecrated to one Octavius, who being chosen general in a war with some neighbouring people, the enemy making a sudden attack, while he was sacrificing to Mars, he immediately snatched the entrails of the victim from off the fire, and offered them half raw upon the altar; after which, marching out to battle, he returned victorious.

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  • Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: —Introibo ad altare Dei. Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely: —Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit! Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he...

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  • James significantly contributed to the criticism of fiction, particularly in his insistence that writers be allowed the greatest freedom possible in presenting their view of the world. His imaginative use of point of view, interior monologue and possibly unreliable narrators in his own novels and tales brought a new depth and interest to narrative fiction. An extraordinarily productive writer, he published substantive books of

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  • A red fox ran into the empty church. In the middle of the floor he sat up and looked around. Nothing stirred--not the painted figures on the wooden walls, nor the boy who now stood in the doorway. This boy was gray-eyed and flaxen-haired, and might have been eleven or twelve years old. He was looking for the good old priest, Father Ansgar, and the wild shy animal eyeing him from the foot of the altar made it only too clear that the church, like the village, was deserted. Father Ansgar was dead of the strange swift pestilence that was called in 1348 the Black...

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