Club Essays

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McClurg, 1880 - 189 pages
 

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Page 179 - DUKE'S PALACE. [Enter DUKE, CURIO, LORDS; MUSICIANS attending.] DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Page 19 - A pear tree there was near our vineyard, laden with fruit, tempting neither for colour nor taste. To shake and rob this, some lewd young fellows of us went, late one night (having according to our pestilent custom prolonged our sports in the streets till then), and took huge loads, not for our eating, but to fiing to the very hogs, having only tasted them.
Page 21 - Too late loved I Thee, O Thou Beauty of ancient days, yet ever new! too late I loved Thee! And behold, Thou wert within, and I abroad, and there I searched for Thee; deformed I, plunging amid those fair forms which Thou hadst made.
Page 155 - Ye Elements, in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted, can ye not Accord me such a being ? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot, Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot...
Page 47 - I must insert an extract here from the almost daily letters which Cicero sent me when he was absent, and when I was sick at Tusculum. " I did not imagine, dear Tiro, that I should have been so little able to bear your absence, but indeed it is almost beyond endurance. Should you embark immediately you would overtake me at Leucas. But if you are inclined to defer your voyage till your recovery shall be more confirmed, let me entreat you to be careful in selecting a safe ship, and be careful that you...
Page 123 - ... learning ; if we have not mastered its words, its elegancies, its power of logic, and humor, and pathos, and rhythm, and have not permitted our minds to become rich in its associations; if we have for years gone along with a heart divided in its love, or with a mind that has studied words more than has thought and prayed, and laughed, and wept, amid the sublime scenes of nature, or the more impressive mysteries of mankind ? "Parlez vous Francais f " Not well ; not at all ; would to Heaven we...
Page 167 - Literature is that part of thought that is wrought out in the name of the beautiful. ... A poem, like that of Homer, or an essay upon Milton or Dante or Caesar from a Macaulay, a Taine or a Froude, is created in the name of beauty, and is a fragment in literature, just as a Corinthian capital is a fragment in art.

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