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Stran 161 - I'm thinking, Pierre, how that damn'd starving quality Call'd honesty, got footing in the world. PIERRE. Why, pow'rful villainy first set it up, For its own ease and safety: honest men Are the soft easy cushions on which knaves Repose and fatten.
Stran 17 - I waked one morning, in the beginning of last June, from a dream, of which all I could recover was, that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head filled like mine with Gothic story), and that on tl s uppermost banister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour. In the evening, I sat down, and began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate.
Stran 44 - We read The Vicar of Wakefield in youth and in age ; we return to it again and again, and bless the memory of an author who contrives so well to reconcile us to human nature.
Stran 74 - John Keats, who was killed off by one critique, Just as he really promised something great, If not intelligible, without Greek Contrived to talk about the gods of late, Much as they might have been supposed to speak. Poor fellow! His was an untoward fate; 'T is strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuffed out by an article.
Stran 312 - Oh — yes — yes — to be sure — Annapolis must be defended — troops must be sent to Annapolis — Pray where is Annapolis?" — "Cape Breton an island! wonderful — show it me in the map. So it is, sure enough. My dear sir, you always bring us good news. I must go and tell the king that Cape Breton is an island.
Stran 2 - ... but, said Savage, he knows not any love but that of the sex; he was perhaps never in cold water in his life; and he indulges himself in all the luxury that comes within his reach.
Stran 122 - Kew, gave such a description of them as made me instantly resolve to work in these gardens. The next morning, without saying a word to any one, off I set, with no clothes except those upon my back, and with thirteen halfpence in my pocket. I found that I must go to Richmond, and I accordingly went on, from place to place, inquiring my way thither.
Stran 43 - It is made up of incongruous parts. The village in its happy days is a true English village. The village in its decay is an Irish village. • The felicity and the misery which Goldsmith has brought close together belong to two different countries, and to two different stages in the progress of societ}'. He had assuredly never seen in his native island such a rural paradise, such a seat of plenty, content, and tranquillity, as his
Stran 234 - We are told that there was no malice, and that the prisoner must have been in liquor. In liquor! Why, he was drunk ! And yet he murdered the very man...
Stran 128 - Boz," my signature in the Morning Chronicle, appended to the monthly cover of this book, and retained long afterwards, was the nickname of a pet child, a younger brother, whom I had dubbed Moses, in honor of the Vicar of Wakefield ; which being facetiously pronounced through the nose, became Boses, and being shortened, became Boz. " Boz " was a very familiar household word to me, long before I was an author, and so I came to adopt it.