The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 22

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Atlantic Monthly Company, 1868 - American literature
 

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Page 507 - She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet.
Page 572 - The end of our foundation is the knowledge of causes, and secret motions of things; and the enlarging of the bounds of human empire, to the effecting of all things possible.
Page 302 - A sweet attractive kind of grace ; A full assurance given by looks ; Continual comfort in a face, The lineaments of Gospel books — I trow that count'nance cannot lye, Whose thoughts are legible in the eye.
Page 472 - Whilst he was commorant in the university, about sixteen years of age, (as his lordship hath been pleased to impart unto myself), he first fell into the dislike of the philosophy of Aristotle; not for the worthlessness of the author, to whom he would ever ascribe all high attributes, but for the unfruitfulness of the way; being a philosophy (as his lordship used to say) only strong for disputations and contentions, but barren of the production of works for the benefit of the life of man; in which...
Page 570 - For were it not better for a man in a fair room to set up one great light, or branching candlestick of lights, than to go about with a small watch candle into every corner...
Page 565 - There is a great difference between the Idols of the human mind and the Ideas of the divine. That is to say, between certain empty dogmas, and the true signatures and marks set upon the works of creation as they are found in nature.
Page 570 - For there are in nature certain fountains of justice, whence all civil laws are derived but as streams ; and, like as waters do take tinctures and tastes from the soils through which they run, so do civil laws vary according to the regions and governments where they are planted, though they proceed from the same fountains.
Page 301 - Since I am so ugly," said Du Guesclin, " it behooves that I be bold." Sir Philip Sidney, the darling of mankind, Ben Jonson tells us, " was no pleasant man in countenance, his face being spoiled with pimples, and of high blood, and long.
Page 306 - Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay, Within that Temple where the vestal flame • Was wont to burn ; and, passing by that way To see that buried dust of living fame, Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept, All suddenly I saw the Faery Queen : At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept. And from thenceforth those Graces were not seen (For they this Queen attended), in whose stead Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hearse...
Page 307 - And all was bright with morning dew, The lusty days of long ago, When you were Bill and I was Joe. Your name may flaunt a titled trail Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail, And mine as brief appendix wear As Tarn O'Shanter's luckless mare; To-day, old friend, remember still That I am Joe and you are Bill.

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