Paths to Power

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R.F. Fenno, 1901 - 229 pages
 

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Page 207 - Man is his own star; and the soul that can Render an honest and a perfect man, Commands all light, all influence, all fate; Nothing to him falls early or too late. Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
Page 22 - My words fly up, my thoughts remain below : Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go.
Page 224 - The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
Page 225 - Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were To see thee in our waters yet appear, And make those flights upon the banks of Thames, That so did take Eliza, and our James! But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere Advanced, and made a constellation there! Shine forth, thou Star of Poets, and with rage Or influence, chide or cheer the drooping stage, Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night, And despairs day, but for thy volume's light.
Page 224 - To draw no envy, SHAKESPEARE, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ; While I confess thy writings to be such, As neither man, nor muse, can praise too much.
Page 208 - When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
Page 106 - How shall I a habit break?" As you did that habit make. As you gathered, you must lose; As you yielded, now refuse. Thread by thread the strands we twist Till they bind us neck and wrist; Thread by thread the patient hand Must untwine ere free we stand. As we builded, stone by stone, We must toil, unhelped, alone, Till the wall is overthrown.
Page 130 - A haze on the far horizon. The infinite, tender sky. The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields And the wild geese sailing high; And all over upland and lowland The charm of the golden-rod, Some of us call it Autumn, And others call it God.
Page 210 - BUT souls that of his own good life partake, He loves as his own self; dear as his eye They are to Him; He'll never them forsake; When they shall die, then God himself shall die; They live, they live in blest eternity.
Page 129 - A fire-mist and a planet, A crystal and a cell, A jelly-fish and a saurian. And caves where the cave-men dwell: Then a sense of law and beauty. And a face turned from the clod, Some call it Evolution, And others call it God.

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