lovelily

Would not the tale, however lovelily begun, sink once to the level of the Burlesque--of all forms of literature the least worthy?

Archive 2005-09-01 2005

Would not the tale, however lovelily begun, sink once to the level of the Burlesque--of all forms of literature the least worthy?

George Macdonald on Sub-creation 2005

And then tiring of pursuit and flight, lovelily they came descending, delicately declining, dropped down and sat silent on the tree, on the wall, with their bright eyes glancing, and their heads turned this way, that way; aware, awake; intensely conscious of one thing, one object in particular.

The Waves 2003

She is completely loving, completely lovelily loving.

Matisse Picasso and Gertrude Stein With Two Shorter Stories Gertrude Stein 1910

For after all it concerns the child; and is it quite an accident that, weaning him away from lovely things that so lovelily call themselves 'love,' 'home,' 'mother,' we can find no more alluring titles for the streets into which we entrap him than 'Educational

On The Art of Reading Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch 1903

Then in the evening Rex went downstairs and played "Christians, awake" lovelily with all kinds of stops and different effects, and I sat upstairs by the dumbstove, and was not entirely in Canada, as you may fancy!

Leaves from Juliana Horatia Ewing's "Canada Home" Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing 1896

So the drawing-room looked lovelily, and a fine rose-odor was diffused.

Memories of Hawthorne Rose Hawthorne Lathrop 1888

And in these days Annie had at length finished her fair copy of Hector's last book, writing it out in her own lovelily legible hand -- not such as ladies in general count legible, because they can easily read it themselves; she could do better than that, she could write so that others could not fail to read.

Far Above Rubies George MacDonald 1864

The turf was dry, the air was still, and although the woods were very silent, and looked mournfully bare, the grass drew nearer to the roots of the trees, and the sunshine filled them with streaks of gold, blending lovelily with the bright green of the moss that patched the older stems.

Thomas Wingfold, Curate George MacDonald 1864

The turf was dry, the air was still, and although the woods were very silent, and looked mournfully bare, the grass drew nearer to the roots of the trees, and the sunshine filled them with streaks of gold, blending lovelily with the bright green of the moss that patched the older stems.

Thomas Wingfold, Curate V1 George MacDonald 1864