Mnenja - Napišite recenzijo
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Stran 112 - In the four quarters of the globe, who reads an American book, or goes to an American play, or looks at an American picture or statue...
Stran 251 - All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
Stran 131 - I find this conclusion more impressed upon me, — that the greatest thing a human soul ever does in this world is to see something, and tell what it saw in a plain way. Hundreds of people can talk for one who can think, but thousands can think for one who can see. To see clearly is poetry, prophecy, and religion, — all in one.
Stran 295 - Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains, They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.
Stran 82 - Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
Stran 109 - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
Stran 138 - Thy soft response renewing— What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the ocean doing?' Second Voice 'Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast— If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him.
Stran 552 - This I know not how to express otherwise, than by a calm, sweet abstraction of soul from all the concerns of this world; and sometimes a kind of vision, or fixed ideas and imaginations, of being alone in the mountains, or some solitary wilderness, far from all mankind, sweetly conversing with Christ, and rapt and swallowed up in God.
Stran 138 - The point of one white star is quivering still Deep in the orange light of widening morn Beyond the purple mountains : through a chasm Of wind-divided mist the darker lake Reflects it : now it wanes : it gleams again As the waves fade, and as the burning threads Of woven cloud unravel in pale air : Tis lost ! and through yon peaks of cloud-like snow The roseate sunlight quivers...