The poet at the breakfast-table

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Houghton Mifflin, 1900
 

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Page 333 - And the house, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready before it was brought thither : so that there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building.
Page 327 - And, lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument: for they hear thy words, but they do them not.
Page 40 - 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 92 - Before the angel, and of him to ask Chose rather ; he, she knew, would intermix Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute With conjugal caresses : from his lip Not words alone pleased her.
Page 146 - Many ideas grow better when transplanted into another mind than in the one where they sprang up. That which was a weed in one intelligence becomes a flower in the other, and a flower, again, dwindles down to a mere weed by the same change. Healthy growths may become poisonous by falling upon the wrong mental soil, and what seemed a nightshade in one mind unfold as a morning-glory in the other. — I thank God...
Page 111 - Their ruins perished, and their place no more; Convinced, she now contracts her vast design, And all her triumphs shrink into a coin. A narrow orb each crowded conquest keeps; Beneath her palm here sad...
Page 88 - I'll ask my papa How he dared to propose to my darling mamma ; Was he like the rest of them ? Goodness ! Who knows ? And what shall 7 say if a wretch should propose ? I am thinking if Aunt knew so little of sin, What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's aunt must have been ! And her grand-aunt — it scares me— how shockingly sad That we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad ! A martyr will save us, and nothing else can ; Let me perish— to rescue some wretched young man...
Page 107 - I keep the subject constantly before me, and wait till the first dawnings open slowly by little and little into a full and clear light.
Page 215 - He was once a man ; and of some little name ; but of no worth, as his present unparalleled case makes but too manifest ; for by the immediate hand of an avenging GOD, his very thinking substance has, for more than seven years, been continually wasting away, till it is wholly perished out of him, if it be not utterly come to nothing. None, no, not the least remembrance of its very ruins, remains, not the shadow of an idea is left, nor any sense that so much as one single one, perfect or imperfect,...
Page 327 - We are all tattoed in our cradles with the beliefs of our tribe ; the record may seem superficial, but it is indelible. You cannot educate a man wholly out of the superstitious fears which were early implanted in his imagination ; no matter how utterly his reason may reject them, he will still feel as the famous woman did about ghosts, Je n'y crois pas, mais je les crains, — "I don't believe in them, but I am afraid of them, nevertheless.

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