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Page 34 - ... they are in the very wrath of love, and they will together ; clubs cannot part them.
Page 70 - Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
Page 21 - A made a finer end, and went away, an it had been any christom child; 'a parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers...
Page 88 - Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
Page 40 - Then they essayed to look, but the remembrance of that last thing that the Shepherds had shown them, made their hands shake; by means of which impediment, they could not look steadily through the glass; yet they thought they saw something like the gate, and also some of the glory of the place.
Page 34 - I rush out among my pigs rather than remain alone by myself. The human heart is like a millstone in a mill ; when you put wheat under it, it turns and grinds and bruises the wheat to flour ; if you put no wheat, it still grinds on, but then 'tis itself it grinds and wears away.
Page 28 - Undefined in its slope of roof, height of shaft, breadth of arch, or disposition of ground plan, it can shrink into a turret, expand into a hall, coil into a staircase, or spring into a spire, with undegraded grace and unexhausted energy...
Page 11 - The peculiar genius — if such a, word may be permitted — which breathes through it — the mingled tenderness and majesty — the Saxon simplicity — the preternatural grandeur — unequalled, unapproached, in the attempted improvements of modern scholars — all are here, and bear the impress of the mind of one man — William Tyndal.