Titlebook: Byromania; Portraits of the Art Frances Wilson (Lecturer in English Literature) Book 1999 Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publi

Generator

intangibility

摇曳的微光

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4899-2019-5shire.… By the time I was eighteen, I’d tupped more women than I can count; broke their hearts, minds and kidneys without regret or remorse. I’ve caught the pox twice, attended several black masses; murdered men both in anger and cold blood, got my sister with child‖’ (.: AND . sister!’) ‘Yet, for t

Ceramic

Giuliano Colombetti,Francesco Lenci Byron lived his writings. It would be equally inadequate to point out that Byron led a somewhat spectacular life and often came close to resembling his own fictional heroes. Such, of course, are ideal conditions for biographical myth-making. As Samuel Chew, in his still quite valuable book on the p

反感

Philipp Strittmatter,Harry A. Daileyus to young girls) as reading his poetry. The wish to be visually available was reciprocated by some of Byron’s admirers, and Isabella/Zorina (who kept her correspondence with the poet strictly secret from her family) secured her ‘friendship’ with him by sending him a miniature of herself, in return

obstinate

PHONE

预感

严重伤害

刺耳的声音

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-9176-9nded had happened.’. This is how Caroline Lamb is remembered in both biography and fiction alike: for confusing reality with fantasy; for behaving as though she were the heroine of a melodrama; for belonging, precisely, in the ‘wrong’ genre. Caroline Lamb’s name has become synonymous with melodrama