The Better Self: Essays for Home-life

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Porter & Coates, 1875 - Всего страниц: 300
 

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Стр. 271 - Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Стр. 286 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished! Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes. With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
Стр. 296 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart?
Стр. 31 - Leave thou thy sister when she prays, Her early Heaven, her happy views; Nor thou with shadow'd hint confuse A life that leads melodious days. Her faith thro...
Стр. 46 - ... prosperity, — an unwelcome remembrancer, — a perpetually recurring mortification, — a drain on your purse, — a more intolerable dun upon your pride, — a drawback upon success, — a rebuke to your rising, — a stain in your blood, — a blot on your scutcheon, — a rent in your garment, — a death's head at your banquet, — Agathocles...
Стр. 236 - An ignorant man is insignificant and contemptible; nobody cares for his company, and he can just be said to live, and that is all. There is a very pretty French epigram upon the death of such an ignorant, insignificant fellow; the sting of which is, that all that can be said of him is, that he was once alive, and that he is now dead. This is the epigram, which you may get by heart: Colas est mort de maladie, Tu veux que j'en pleure le sort ; Que diable veux-tu que j'en die ? Colas vivoit, Colas est...
Стр. 130 - That stifled feeling dare not shed, And changed her cheek from pale to red, And red to pale, as through her ears Those winged words like arrows sped, What could such be but maiden fears ? So bright the tear in beauty's eye, Love half regrets to kiss it dry...
Стр. 46 - Agathocles' pot, a Mordecai in your gate, a Lazarus at your door, a lion in your path, a frog in your chamber, a fly in your ointment, a mote in your eye, a triumph to your enemy, an apology to your friends, the one thing not needful, the hail in harvest, the ounce of sour in a pound of sweet.
Стр. 116 - Give sorrow words; the grief that will not speak, Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.
Стр. 260 - Whatever mitigates the woes, or increases the happiness, of others, this is my criterion of goodness; and whatever injures society at large, or any individual in it, this is my measure of iniquity.

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