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Page 570 - Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, The seat of desolation, void of light, Save what the glimmering of these livid flames Casts pale and dreadful?
Page 113 - What made Wordsworth's poems a medicine for my state of mind, was that they expressed, not mere outward beauty, but states of feeling, and of thought coloured by feeling, under the excitement of beauty.
Page 112 - I, for the first time, gave its proper place, among the prime necessities of human well-being, to the internal culture of the individual. I ceased to attach almost exclusive importance to the ordering of outward circumstances, and the training of the human being for speculation and for action.
Page 113 - ... shell the universe itself Is to the ear of faith ; and there are times, I doubt not, when to you it doth impart Authentic tidings of invisible things; Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power; And central peace, subsisting at the heart Of endless agitation. Here you stand, Adore and worship, when you know it not ; Pious beyond the intention of your thought, Devout above the meaning of your will.
Page 111 - I carried it with me into all companies, into all occupations. Hardly anything had power to cause me even a few minutes oblivion of it.
Page 570 - The seat of desolation, void of light, Save what the glimmering of these livid flames Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend* From off the tossing of these fiery waves, There rest, if any rest can harbour there...
Page 111 - It was in the autumn of 1826. I was in a dull state of nerves, such as everybody is occasionally liable to ; unsusceptible to enjoyment or pleasurable excitement ; one of those moods when what is pleasure at other times, becomes insipid or indifferent ; the state, I should think, in which converts to Methodism usually are, when smitten bv their first "conviction of sin.