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Houghton Mifflin, 1913 - Suffrage - 390 pages

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Page 198 - There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Immanuel's veins; And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains.
Page 273 - How good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to employ All the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!
Page 80 - In one year they sent a million fighters forth South and North, And they built their gods a brazen pillar high As the sky, Yet reserved a thousand chariots in full force — Gold, of course. Oh heart ! oh blood that freezes, blood that burns ! Earth's returns For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin ! Shut them in, With their triumphs and their glories and the rest ! Love is best. A LOVERS
Page 79 - Melt away — That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair Waits me there In the turret whence the charioteers caught soul For the goal, When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb Till I come.
Page 252 - I know no study which is so unutterably saddening as that of the evolution of humanity, as it is set forth in the annals of history. Out of the darkness of prehistoric ages man emerges with the marks of his lowly origin strong upon him. He is a brute, only more intelligent than the other brutes, a blind prey to impulses, which as often as not lead him to destruction ; a victim to endless...
Page 99 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops: I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Page 144 - Dont waste your time at family funerals grieving for your relatives: attend to life, not to death: there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it, and better.
Page 295 - ... reach it as it travels before. Standing, it outspeeds others that run; in it the Wind-spirit lays the waters. It stirs, and stirs not; it is far, and near. It is within all, and outside all that is. But he who discerns all creatures in his Self, and his Self in all creatures, has no disquiet thence. What delusion, what grief can be with him in whom all creatures have become the very self of the thinker discerning their oneness? He has spread around, a thing bright, bodiless, taking no hurt, sinewless,...
Page 79 - WHERE the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles, Miles and miles On the solitary pastures where our sheep Half-asleep Tinkle homeward thro' the twilight, stray or stop As they crop — Was the site once of a city great and gay, (So they say) Of our country's very capital, its prince Ages since Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far Peace or war.
Page 313 - Hagar evinces the appalling effect of this religiosity, when she avows with pride that she doesn't "pretend to be 'literary* or to understand literary talk. What Moses and St. Paul said and the way we've always done in Virginia is good enough for me.

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