Byron in Europe: In Childe Harold's FootstepsEquation, 1988 - 192 páginas |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-3 de 37
Página 76
... hour of waiting , he offered me a foul cigarette , which I felt it politic to accept . There were no tempting posters of Albanian landscapes on the wall , no pictures to whet my appetite , so I sat and watched him grill the two Greeks ...
... hour of waiting , he offered me a foul cigarette , which I felt it politic to accept . There were no tempting posters of Albanian landscapes on the wall , no pictures to whet my appetite , so I sat and watched him grill the two Greeks ...
Página 144
... hour a truck stopped and in a few minutes I was in Meillerie , where the driver had to make a delivery . If I had started walking an hour and a half before I would have arrived at about the same time , and been no wetter . ' It's a bad ...
... hour a truck stopped and in a few minutes I was in Meillerie , where the driver had to make a delivery . If I had started walking an hour and a half before I would have arrived at about the same time , and been no wetter . ' It's a bad ...
Página 173
... hours and would get me to Petrarch's house about an hour and a half after it closed . The next train back to Ferrara was also in two hours ' time . I sat on the freezing platform and swore loudly and unceasing- ly . How could I have ...
... hours and would get me to Petrarch's house about an hour and a half after it closed . The next train back to Ferrara was also in two hours ' time . I sat on the freezing platform and swore loudly and unceasing- ly . How could I have ...
Índice
Acknowledgements | 9 |
Portugal | 17 |
Renownd romantic Spain | 32 |
Página de créditos | |
Otras 7 secciones no se muestran.
Términos y frases comunes
Albanian American appearance arrived asked Athens beautiful boat building Byron called castle Childe Childe Harold's closed crowded described door empty English eyes fact famous felt followed four Gibraltar Greece Greek half hand head hill Hobhouse hour imagine inside inspired interest island Italy John journey lake land later less letters light lines Lisbon lived London looked Lord Byron miles monks morning mountains never night notes once passed past perhaps Pilgrimage poem poet reached remains returned river road romantic Rome seemed seen Shelley side sitting spent square standing stayed steps stone stop street talked thought told took tourist town train travels Turkish turned Venice village waiting walked wall wanted window woman women write wrote