The most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan,* came to me. I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrasts between the two lives which it connects. It was the third of March, 1887, three months before I was seven years […]
Meanwhile the desire to express myself grew. The few signs I used became less and less adequate, and my failures to make myself understood were invariably followed by outbursts of passion. I felt as if invisible hands were holding me, and I made frantic efforts to free myself. I struggled – not that struggling helped
I cannot recall what happened during the first months after my illness. I only know that I sat in my mother’s lap or clung to her dress as she went about her household duties. My hands felt every object and observed every motion, and in this way I learned to know many things. Soon I
It is with a kind of fear that I begin to write the history of my life. I have, as it were, a superstitious hesitation in lifting the veil that clings about my childhood like a golden mist. The task of writing an autobiography is a difficult one. When I try to classify my earliest
The British camp near Dover.Enter, in conquest, with drum and colours, Edmund; Lear and Cordelia, prisoners; Captain, Soldiers, &c. Edmund. Some officers take them away: good guard,Until their greater pleasures first be knownThat are to censure them.Cordelia. We are not the firstWho, with best meaning, have incurr’d the worst.For thee, oppressed king, am I cast
A field between the two camps.Alarum within. Enter, with drum and colours, Lear, Cordelia, and Soldiers, over the stage; and exeunt. Enter Edgar and Gloucester. Edgar. Here, father, take the shadow of this treeFor your good host; pray that the right may thrive:If ever I return to you again,I’ll bring you comfort.Gloucester. Grace go with
The British camp, near Dover.Enter, with drum and colours, Edmund, Regan,Gentlemen, and Soldiers. Edmund. Know of the duke if his last purpose hold,Or whether since he is advised by aughtTo change the course: he’s full of alterationAnd self-reproving: bring his constant pleasure.[To a Gentleman, who goes out.Regan. Our sister’s man is certainly miscarried.Edmund. ’Tis to
A tent in the French camp. Lear on a bed asleep, soft music playing; Gentleman, and others attending. Enter Cordelia, Kent and Doctor.Cordelia. O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work,To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,And every measure fail me.Kent. To be acknowledged, madam, is o’erpaid.All my reports go
Fields near Dover.Enter Gloucester, and Edgar, dressed like a peasant. Gloucester. When shall we come to the top of that same hill?Edgar. You do climb up it now: look, how we labour.Gloucester. Methinks the ground is even.Edgar. Horrible steep. Hark, do you hear the sea?Gloucester. No, truly.Edgar. Why, then, your other senses grow imperfectBy your
Gloucester’s castle.Enter Regan and Oswald. Regan. But are my brother’s powers set forth?Oswald. Ay, madam.Regan. Himself in person there?Oswald. Madam, with much ado:Your sister is the better soldier.Regan. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?Oswald. No, madam.Regan. What might import my sister’s letter to him?Oswald. I know not, lady.Regan. ’Faith, he is posted
The same. A tent.Enter, with drum and colours, Cordelia, Doctor, and Soldiers.Cordelia. Alack, ’tis he: why, he was met even now As mad as the vex’d sea; singing aloud;Crown’d with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds.With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,Darnel, and all the idle weeds that growIn our sustaining corn. A century send forth;Search every acre in
The French camp near Dover.Enter Kent and a Gentleman. Kent. Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back know you the reason?Gentleman. Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his coming forth is thought of; which imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger, that his personal return was most
Before the Duke of Albany’s palace.Enter Goneril and Edmund. Goneril. Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husbandNot met us on the way.Enter Oswald.Now, where’s your master?Oswald. Madam, within; but never man so changed.I told him of the army that was landed;He smiled at it: I told him you were coming;His answer was ‘The worse:’
The heath.Enter Edgar. Edgar. Yet better thus, and known to be contemn’d,Than still contemn’d and flatter’d. To be worst,The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune,Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear:The lamentable change is from the best;The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then,Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace!The wretch that thou hast blown
Gloucester’s castle.Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Edmund, and Servants. Cornwall. Post speedily to my lord your husband; show him this letter: the army of France is landed. Seek out the villain Gloucester. [Exeunt some of the Servants.Regan. Hang him instantly.Goneril. Pluck out his eyes.Cornwall. Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our sister company: the