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Page 473 - Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground ; long heath, brown furze, anything: The wills above be done ! but I would fain die a dry death.
Page 412 - The first sense of sorrow I ever knew was upon the death of my father, at which time I was not quite five years of age ; but was rather amazed at what all the house meant, than possessed with a real understanding why nobody was willing to play with me.
Page 49 - Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love control, Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.
Page 731 - Who now reads Cowley ? if he pleases yet, His moral pleases, not his pointed wit: Forgot his Epic, nay Pindaric art, But still I love the language of his heart.
Page 224 - The glorious habit by which sense is made Subservient still to moral purposes, Auxiliar to divine.
Page 729 - Rather than thus our wills too strong for it. His faith perhaps in some nice tenets might Be wrong ; his life, I'm sure, was in the right...
Page 227 - Be strong ; — be worthy of the grace Of God, and fill thy destined place : A soul, by force of sorrows high, Uplifted to the purest sky Of undisturbed humanity...
Page 217 - Oh lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.
Page 217 - My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought, As if life's business were a summer mood; As if all needful things would come unsought To genial faith, still rich in genial good; But how can He expect that others should Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?