The Diary of Philip Hone, 1828-1851, Količina 2

Sprednja platnica
Dodd, Mead,, 1889
 

Izbrane strani

Druge izdaje - Prikaži vse

Pogosti izrazi in povedi

Priljubljeni odlomki

Stran 402 - Prayer is the soul's sincere desire Uttered or unexpressed ; The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Stran 402 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try ; Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach, The Majesty on high.
Stran 59 - tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
Stran 73 - Sir, I wish you to understand the true principles of the Government. I wish them carried out I ask nothing more.
Stran 125 - The object of the author was to get up an American spirit, which should be independent of, and above the interests, passions, and policy of both belligerents : and look and feel exclusively for our own honour and rights.
Stran 377 - Mr. President : I WISH to speak to-day, not as a Massachusetts man, nor as a Northern man, but as an American, and a member of the Senate of the United States.
Stran 384 - The mania for converting Broadway into a street of shops is greater than ever. There is scarcely a block in the whole extent of this fine street of which some part is not in a state of transmutation.
Stran 402 - The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try; Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high. Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air: His watchword at the gates of death, — He enters heaven with prayer. Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, Returning from his ways : While angels in their songs rejoice, And cry, "Behold, he prays...
Stran 347 - John Jacob Astor died this morning, at nine o'clock, in the eighty-fifth year of his age; sensible to the last, but the material of life exhausted, the machinery worn out, the lamp extinguished for want of oil. Bowed down with bodily infirmity for a long time, he has gone at last, and left reluctantly his unbounded wealth.

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