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- O wretched woman, that I, whom you thought to be in the grip of your impotent delusion, hold you as well as fate itself chained in my power. Your wanton sport is nothing but the convulsive writhing of a captive beast in its cage. Learn, O wretched woman, that your lover lies shattered in that gorge, and that in his stead you have been embracing the spirit of vengeance itself. Go, and grovel in the dust! (en)
- I decided to hand him [assumed to be Viktorin] over to the mental asylum at St. Getreu for I hoped that, if it were possible at all to restore him to health, the director of this asylum, a highly gifted doctor with an extensive knowledge of all mental abnormalities, would be able to do so. (en)
- People who I had known in the past suddenly appeared before me once again, their faces now grotesquely disfigured like the grimaces of madmen ... I recognized the choirmaster from B. and his sister. She was spinning round in a frantic waltz, while her brother was playing the music, vigorously stroking his own chest which had been transformed into a violin... (en)
- By chance, so we are also told, St Anthony once opened one of these bottles, out of which there arose directly a strange and stupefying vapour, whereupon all sorts of hideous apparitions and spectral phantoms from hell had environed the Saint, in order to terrify and delude him. Above all, too, there were forms of women, who sought to entice him into shameless indecencies. (en)
- The sins of my youth were indeed terrible, but I have been saved from perdition by the intercession of the Blessed Virgin and Saint Rosalia, and been permitted to suffer the torments of damnation here on earth until my sinful line shall have perished for ever. (en)
- All three [translators] have tried, whether consciously or not, to soften its sinister, Nemesis-like implications by using the familiar words "fate" and "destiny", or the wholly inappropriate term "providence". They thus tend to foreground the redemption narrative at the expense of the Nemesis narrative. (en)
- His [the translator's] version is not only a faithful, but a highly elegant one; and in addition to this, the writer has shown great judgment in omitting certain details which would not have been over acceptable to the English public in its present mood. In a word, he has contrived to prune off all the indelicacy of his German original, without doing the smallest injury, to the author's genius; but, on the contrary, to the great and manifest benefit and advantage of the work, in every possible point of view. (en)
- Metaphorically speaking we can compare the "Literature of the uncanny" as an obscure mansion with its gothic cellar. Fantastic rooms and an uncanny attic / roof. The analogy is justified, since the stories' setting is not only one of the most important characteristics of the genre, but also shifts, over time, from a merely architectural to a rather psychological understanding. We will see that starting out from the gothic castles in Walpole's and Radcliffe's fiction, the notion of the uncanny leaves its gothic foundation, ascends through Shelley to the fantastic rooms, fully establishes itself there under Hoffmann, Nodier, and Gautier, until it reaches the uncanny "attic" in writings of, e.g., Poe, Maupassant, and James. (en)
- But, oh horrible sight! at that moment arose, and stood bodily before me, the hideous blood-stained and distorted figure of Victorin! I thought it was not I, but he, that had spoken the words in which I thought to triumph! At the first glance of this apparition, my hair stood on end with horror. (en)
- It is fair to observe, that the Author's design in the present instance was by no means to make a regular novel or romance, but to present his readers with a grotesque and half-ironical, half-serious sketch, in the manner of the celebrated Callot, an artist well-known in France and Germany ... Devil's Elixir will be best understood by any one who happens to possess in his portfolio a good selection from the 1380 engravings said to have been left by Jacques Callot, who died, aged only 43, in 1636. (en)
- She started at the sound, and turned towards him hastily. The suddenness of her movement made her cowl fall back from her head; her features became visible to the monk’s inquiring eye. What was his amazement at beholding the exact resemblance of his admired Madonna ! The same exquisite proportion of features, the same profusion of golden hair, the same rosy lips, heavenly eyes, and majesty of countenance, adorned Matilda ! Uttering an exclamation of surprise, Ambrosio sank back upon his pillow, and doubted whether the object before him was mortal or divine. (en)
- It may even be that, as you look more closely, what seemed formless will become clear and precise; you will come to recognize the hidden seed which, born of a secret union, grows into a luxuriant plant and spreads forth in a thousand tendrils, until a single blossom, swelling to maturity, absorbs all the life-sap and kills the seed itself. (en)
- To be sure, the Painter believes at the end of his chronicle that with the birth of Medardus the chain of sinful lust finally has been broken. Yet Medardus must unadmittedly find repugnant the implication that his lustful adventures were not a drama of personal salvation, but merely the fulfillment of a curse incurred by a sinful ancestor, and hence not so very different after all from the sexual temptations of all men as descendants of Adam. (en)
- Know, villain, that even though you believe in your impotent madness that you can dominate me, I hold you chained firmly in my power, as sure as your own damnation. Your wicked game is no more than the frantic writhing of the shackled beast in his cage! Know, villain, that your lover lies crushed and broken in that chasm of which you speak, and that in his place, you now embrace his destroyer. Begone and despair. (en)
- And so, kneeling at my side and repeating my prayers with eyes directed heavenwards, she flushed deeper and deeper and her breast rose and fell in agitation. As if in the ardour of reverence I seized her hands and pressed them to my heart. I was so near to her that I felt the warmth of her body, and her flowing tresses fell over my shoulder. I was beside myself with frenzy and embraced her savagely, my kisses burning on her lips, her breast. With a piercing scream she tore herself from my arms and fled. (en)
- I felt as if he knew my inmost thoughts and was offering me the freedom to submit to the providence which ruled over me and which might plunge me, after a moment of ecstasy, into everlasting destruction (en)
- Consequently, while Macarius, that magnificent soldier of Christ, was travelling into the remotest desert, he beheld a very old man coming towards him, heavily laden with a quantity of flasks all about his body and carrying a feather in each flask; he was wearing these instead of clothing ... [After a greeting,] Macarius replied, “but, tell me, who are you, old man, for your clothing is incompatible with man's wellbeing? (en)
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