No Hero: An Autobiography : [a Novel]

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Comyn, 1863 - Всего страниц: 355
 

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Стр. 322 - For the world, I count it not an inn, but an hospital ; and a place not to live, but to die in. The world that I regard is myself; it is the microcosm of my own frame that I cast mine eye on; for the other, I use it but like my globe, and turn it round sometimes for my recreation.
Стр. 332 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O no ; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Стр. 112 - MAN is said to be a sociable animal, and, as an instance of it, we may observe, that we take all occasions and pretences of forming ourselves into those little nocturnal assemblies, which are commonly known by the name of Clubs. When a set of men find themselves agree in any particular, though never so trivial, they establish themselves into a kind of fraternity, and meet once or twice a week upon the account of such a fantastic resemblance.
Стр. 325 - All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow, All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience ! And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured,
Стр. 8 - Mistress Lola and the carter were married; and on the following Sunday she showed herself on her balcony, with her hands spread out upon her waist, to show off the big rings of gold that her husband had given her.
Стр. 146 - SHALL I, like a hermit, dwell On a rock, or in a cell, Calling home the smallest part That is missing of my heart, To bestow it where I may Meet a rival every day ? If she undervalue me, What care I how fair she be...
Стр. 234 - That weight of wood, with leathern coat o'erlaid ; Those ample clasps, of solid metal made...
Стр. 327 - Many fervent souls Strike rhyme on rhyme, who would strike steel on steel If steel had offered, in a restless heat Of doing something. Many tender souls Have strung their losses on a rhyming thread, As children, cowslips: — the more pains they take, The work more withers. Young men, ay, and maids, Too often sow their wild oats in tame verse, Before they sit down under their own vine...
Стр. 347 - Ye ! who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene Which is his last, if in your memories dwell A thought which once was his, if on ye swell A single recollection, not in vain He wore his sandal-shoon and scallop-shell; Farewell ! with him alone may rest the pain, If such there were — with you, the moral of his strain.
Стр. 329 - It is true, that it is not at all necessary to love many books in order to love them much. The scholar, in Chaucer, who would rather have " At his beddes head A twenty bokes, clothed in black and red, Of Aristotle and his philosophy, Than robes rich, or fiddle, or psaltrie...

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