Sketches of Art, Literature, and Character

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Ticknor and Fields, 1859 - 502 páginas
 

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Página 235 - tis fittest. Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave : — Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
Página 418 - I meant the day-star should not brighter rise, Nor lend like influence from his lucent seat. I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet, Hating that solemn vice of greatness, pride ; I meant each softest virtue there should meet, Fit in that softer bosom to reside. Only a learned and a manly soul I purposed her, that should, with even powers, The rock, the spindle, and the shears control Of destiny, and spin her own free hours.
Página 64 - And yet on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book: who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book kills reason itself, kills the image of God as it were in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.
Página 403 - Though I should gaze for ever On that green light that lingers in the west: I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
Página 426 - All things that love the sun are out of doors : The sky rejoices in the morning's birth ; The grass is bright with rain-drops ; — on the moors The hare is running races in her mirth ; And with her feet she from the plashy earth Raises a mist ; that, glittering in the sun, Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
Página 64 - It is true, no age can restore a life, whereof, perhaps, there is no great loss; and revolutions of ages do not oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole nations fare the worse.
Página 351 - Seraph of Heaven ! too gentle to be human, Veiling beneath that radiant form of Woman All that is insupportable in thee Of light, and love, and immortality!
Página 485 - Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night : It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden ; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, Ere one can say — It lightens.
Página 220 - And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs, And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam Of her own dying smile instead of eyes, Came in slow pomp;— the moving pomp might seem Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream.
Página 455 - Sincerity ! Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave Thy onward path! although the earth should gape, And from the gulf of hell destruction cry To take dissimulation's winding way.

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