And who would not risk its terrors to gain its raptures? Ah, what raptures they were! The mere recollection thrills you. How delicious it was to tell her that you loved her, that you lived for her, that you would die for her! How you did rave, to be sure, what floods of extravagant nonsense you poured forth, and oh, how cruel it was of her to pretend not to believe you! In what awe you stood of her! How miserable you were when you had offended her! And yet, how pleasant to be bullied by her and to sue for pardon without having the slightest notion of what your fault was!英文原著 · 《Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow》
Oh, come, ye merry, merry maidens! The fairy prince is on the fairy road. Incipit vita nuova! So in the lovely rapture of a new-born resolution--and is there any rapture like it? --nature has no more intoxicating illusion than that of turning over a new leaf, or beginning a new life from to-day--I sprang along the road with a carolling heart; quite forgetting that Apuleius and Fielding and Boccaccio were still in my knapsack--not to speak of the petticoat.英文原著 · 《The Quest of the Golden Girl》
Oh, what poor words-- But I know no others. If I said that I was happy--HAPPY! --it would be nothing. I WAS happiness itself, I WAS pure rapture! I did not look at the beauty of the night, the sky, the marvelous melting shadow. I was PART of it all, one with it. Nothing held me nothing! The beauty of the night, the light, the air WERE what I was, and I was only thrilling ecstasy and wonder at the rapture of it."
I stopped and covered my face with my hands, and tears wet my fingers.英文原著 · 《The White People》
Its jewel of music is carven of all or of aught -
Love, laughter, or mourning--remembrance of rapture or fear -
That fancy may fashion to hang in the ear of thought.英文原著 · 《A Century of Roundels》
Bright with glad mad rapture, fierce with glee,
Laughs the moon, borne on past cloud's o'ertaking
Fast, it seems, as wind or sail can flee.英文原著 · 《A Century of Roundels》
Blithe is life in such a land! A feeling akin to rapture is diffused through all my veins. The air is pure and fresh, like the kiss of a child; the sun is bright, the sky is blue -- what more could one possibly wish for? What need, in such a place as this, of passions, desires, regrets? [1] Pushkin. Compare Shelley's Adonais, xxxi. 3: "as the last cloud of an expiring storm."
However, it is time to be stirring. I will go to the Elizaveta spring -- I am told that the whole society of the watering-place assembles there in the morning.英文原著 · 《A Hero of Our Time》