Macmillan's Magazine, Volume 17 (Google eBook)

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Macmillan and Company, 1868
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Page 29 - Whosoever will be saved, before all things it is necessary, that he hold the Catholic Faith. Which Faith, except every one do keep whole and undefiled, without doubt he shall perish everlastingly.
Page 121 - It is come, I know not how, to be taken for granted, by many persons, that Christianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry ; but that it is, now at length, discovered to be fictitious. And, accordingly, they treat it as if, in the present age, this were an agreed point among all people of discernment...
Page 359 - The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M. What do you mean? Macb. Still it cried "Sleep no more!" to all the house: "Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more: Macbeth shall sleep no more.
Page 270 - GLORY of warrior, glory of orator, glory of song, Paid with a voice flying by to be lost on an endless sea— Glory of Virtue, to fight, to struggle, to right the wrong— Nay, but she aim'd not at glory, no lover of glory she: Give her the glory of going on, and still to be.
Page 359 - I have almost forgot the taste of fears. The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek...
Page 368 - To the man who plays well the highest stakes are paid with that sort of overflowing generosity with which the strong shows delight in strength. And one who plays ill is checkmated — without haste, but without remorse. My metaphor will remind some of you of the famous picture in which, Eetzsch has depicted Satan playing at chess with man for his soul.
Page 459 - Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final restingplace for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live.
Page 368 - The player on the other side is hidden from us. We know that his play is always fair, just, and patient. But also we know, to our cost, that he never overlooks a mistake, or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance. To the man who plays well, the highest stakes are paid, with that sort of overflowing generosity with which the strong shows delight in strength. And one who plays ill is checkmated — without haste, but without remorse.
Page 357 - Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee; And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?
Page 354 - Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? DoCT. Do you mark that? LADY M. The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? What, will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.

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