Aristocracy, Or, Life in the City, 1. izdaja

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S.G. Sherman, 1848 - 256 strani
 

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Stran 119 - Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'd jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here ; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor : This even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips.
Stran 167 - Merciful Heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal.
Stran 53 - Love's not a flower that grows on the dull earth ; Springs by the calendar ; must wait for sun — For rain; — matures by parts, — must take its time To stem, to leaf, to bud, to blow. It owns A richer soil, and boasts a quicker seed...
Stran 37 - O woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light, quivering aspen made ; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou...
Stran 99 - To the very moment that he bade me tell it; Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth 'scapes i...
Stran 98 - What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted ? Thrice is he armed, that hath his quarrel just ; And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
Stran 232 - Thou, that hast wasted earth, and dared despise Alike the wrath and mercy of the skies, Thy pomp is in the grave, thy glory laid Low in the pits thine avarice has made.
Stran 58 - Why, so can I, or so can any man ; But will they come, when you do call for them ? Glend.
Stran 60 - I cannot tell, what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be, as live to be In awe of such a thing as I m,yself.
Stran 87 - Love ! I will tell thee what it is to love ! It is to build with human thoughts a shrine, Where hope sits brooding like a beauteous dove ; Where time seems young — and life a thing divine. All tastes, all pleasures, all desires combine To consecrate this sanctuary of bliss. Above, the stars in shroudless beauty shine; Around, the streams their flowery margins kiss: And if there's heaven on earth, that heaven is surely this.

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