It was a bliss to which every sort of earthly experience--all that he had enjoyed, or suffered or seen, or heard, or acted, with the broodings
of his soul upon the whole--had contributed somewhat.
The peace of the woods was upon him, despite his broodings
of Marian and he paid little heed to a group of does quietly feeding among the trees at the far edge of the glade.
She only roused herself from the broodings
of this restless agitation, to let Mrs Clay know that she had been seen with Mr Elliot three hours after his being supposed to be out of Bath, for having watched in vain for some intimation of the interview from the lady herself, she determined to mention it, and it seemed to her there was guilt in Mrs Clay's face as she listened.
"Chapter 21: Philological Broodings
," Scorpion and Felix: A Humoristic Novel.
Estimation of Time Lag between Successive Female Broodings
by Field Experiment
And as mentioned earlier, I was completely wrong with my dark broodings
have been seen as the broodings
of an ousted politician, forecasting anarchy under the new Liberal regime." But the same way of thinking was demonstrated by the leader of the Liberal Party.
Forced feelings won't stretch fully; [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII], also "stronger resolves" Weaker broodings
waned yet wax anew.
Her diary written in English does not record "sentimental effusions of rejected love, eruptions of familial anger, or consoling broodings
about death" (1989: 121).
"Harriet" is Lowell's meditation on the inevitability of mortality: "we too follow nature"; "one choice not two is all you're given." Carter's writing for wind quartet turns the setting into a kind of melancholy pastoral, tenderness for Harriet (Teneramente) punctuated by ominous broodings
about his own end (froni co).
Consider, for example, David Wojahn's elegiac depiction of the pathetic descent from musical authenticity to self-destruction and commercial compromise in the sonnet sequence Mystery Train; rock journalist Nick Kent's lurid expose of the seamy underbelly of pop glamour in The Dark Stuff; Love's sun-tinged apocalyptic broodings
in Forever Changes; or the Pretty Things' dark, humorless odyssey from youthful innocence to the despair and abjection of old age in S.F.
Indeed, Fiedler's assertion about the "proper subject of the American Gothic" was in some ways a clarification and reassertion of the well-known conclusion of Richard Wright's essay, "How Bigger Was Born": "[W]e do have in the oppression of the Negro a shadow athwart our national life dense enough to satisfy even the gloomy broodings