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Other People Who Read Songs of Innocence and of Experience Also Read


 
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The Middle Years

By: Henry James

The April day was soft and bright, and poor Dencombe, happy in the conceit of reasserted strength, stood in the garden of the hotel, comparing, with a deliberation in which however there was still something of languor, the attractions of easy strolls. He liked the feeling of the south so far as you could have it in the north, he liked the sandy cliffs and the clustered pines, he liked even the colourless sea. Bournemouth as a health-resort had sounded like a mere adverti...

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The Marriages

By: Henry James

Won't you stay a little longer? the hostess asked while she held the girl's hand and smiled. It's too early for every one to go -- it's too absurd. Mrs. Churchley inclined her head to one side and looked gracious; she flourished about her face, in a vaguely protecting sheltering way, an enormous fan of red feathers. Everything in her composition, for Adela Chart, was enormous. She had big eyes, big teeth, big shoulders, big hands, big rings and bracelets, big jewels of e...

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The Liar

By: Henry James

The train was half an hour late and the drive from the station longer than he had supposed, so that when he reached the house its inmates had dispersed to dress for dinner and he was conducted straight to his room. The curtains were drawn in this asylum, the candles were lighted, the fire was bright, and when the servant had quickly put out his clothes the comfortable little place became suggestive — seemed to promise a pleasant house, a various party, talks, acquaintanc...

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The Lesson of the Master

By: Henry James

He had been told the ladies were at church, but this was corrected by what he saw from the top of the steps - they descended from a great height in two arms, with a circular sweep of the most charming effect - at the threshold of the door which, from the long bright gallery, overlooked the immense lawn. Three gentlemen, on the grass, at a distance, sat under the great trees, while the fourth figure showed a crimson dress that told as a bit of colour amid the fresh rich g...

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The Jolly Corner

By: Henry James

I EVERY ONE asks me what I 'think' of everything, said Spencer Brydon; and I make answer as I can -- begging or dodging the question, putting them off with any nonsense. It wouldn't matter to any of them really, he went on, for, even were it possible to meet in that stand-and-deliver way so silly a demand on so big a subject, my 'thoughts' would still be almost altogether about something that concerns only myself. He was talking to Miss Staverton, with whom for a couple ...

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