large/5293/cruelpainter_1203_librivox_64kb_mp3/cruelpainter_1_macdonald_64kb_85
large/5293/cruelpainter_1203_librivox_64kb_mp3/cruelpainter_1_macdonald_64kb
English
5293
If she looked down on the scene below, it was only that the beholder might see that she saw and did not care  that not a feather of her outspread pinions would quiver at the sight. IF SHE LOOKED DOWN ON THE SCENE BELOW IT WAS ONLY THAT THE BEHOLDER MIGHT SEE THAT SHE SAW AND DID NOT CARE THAT NOT A FEATHER OF HER OUTSPREAD PINIONS WOULD QUIVER AT THE SIGHT
s suffering martyrs, could suppose for a moment that he honoured their martyrdom. They were but the vehicles for his hate of humanity. He was the torturer, and not Diocletian or Nero. But, stranger yet to tell, there was no picture, whatever its subject, into which he did not introduce one form of placid and harmonious loveliness. In this, however, his fierceness was only more fully displayed. For in no case did this form manifest any relation either to the actors or the endurers in the picture. Hence its very loveliness became almost hateful to those who beheld it. Not a shade crossed the still sky of that brow, not a ripple disturbed the still sea of that cheek. She did not hate, she did not love the sufferers: the painter would not have her hate, for that would be to the injury of her loveliness: would not have her love, for he hated. Sometimes she floated above, as a still, unobservant angel, her gaze turned upward, dreaming along, careless as a white summer cloud, across the blue.  ONE HOWEVER WHO LOOKED UPON HIS SUFFERING MARTYRS COULD SUPPOSE FOR A MOMENT THAT HE HONORED THEIR MARTYRDOM THEY WERE BUT THE VEHICLES FOR HIS HATE OF HUMANITY HE WAS THE TORTURER AND NOT DIOCLETIAN OR NERO BUT STRANGER YET TO TELL THERE WAS NO PICTURE WHATEVER ITS SUBJECT INTO WHICH HE DID NOT INTRODUCE ONE FORM OF PLACID AND HARMONIOUS LOVELINESS IN THIS HOWEVER HIS FIERCENESS WAS ONLY MORE FULLY DISPLAYED FOR IN NO CASE DID THIS FORM MANIFEST ANY RELATION EITHER TO THE ACTORS OR THE ENDURERS IN THE PICTURE HENCE ITS VERY LOVELINESS BECAME ALMOST HATEFUL TO THOSE WHO BEHELD IT NOT A SHADE CROSSED THE STILL SKY OF THAT BROW NOT A RIPPLE DISTURBED THE STILL SEA OF THAT CHEEK SHE DID NOT HATE SHE DID NOT LOVE THE SUFFERERS THE PAINTER WOULD NOT HAVE HER HATE FOR THAT WOULD BE TO THE INJURY OF HER LOVELINESS WOULD NOT HAVE HER LOVE FOR HE HATED SOMETIMES SHE FLOATED ABOVE AS A STILL UNOBSERVANT ANGEL HER GAZE TURNED UPWARD DREAMING ALONG CARELESS AS A WHITE SUMMER CLOUD ACROSS THE BLUE
large/5293/cruelpainter_1203_librivox_64kb_mp3/cruelpainter_1_macdonald_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/5293/cruelpainter_1203_librivox_64kb_mp3/cruelpainter_1_macdonald_64kb.flac