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afternoon Alex Alexander Galbraith American Andrew Tompson arms artistic asked beauty braith chair charm Clayton commenced conscious conservatism continued cottage course dear delightful doubt entirely eyes face feel felt gave George Turner girl Gramercy Park hand heart Helen Galbraith Helen loved Helen read hope hour husband impression impressionist influence interest Jane Jeanne d'Arc Jersey City kind knew light lived locust trees looked manner matter meadows mind nature ness never once paint painter Paris passed paused picture possessed possible Prix de Rome pure quiet quietly remained replied Galbraith replied Helen replied Tompson seat seemed sense Sherman Elliott silent soul speak spirit spoke stood sure sweet sympathy talk taste things thought tion Tomp tone took true turned uncon voice walk watch Westmore Westmore's wife window wish woman words York young
Page 223 - For innumerable evils have compassed me about: mine iniquities have taken hold upon me, so that I am not able to look up; they are more than the hairs of mine head: therefore my heart faileth me.
Page 315 - Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a grain of wheat fall into the earth and die, it abideth by itself alone ; but if it die, it beareth much fruit.
Page 3 - There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.
Page 250 - You are seeking your own will, my daughter. You are seeking some good other than the law you are bound to obey. But how will you find good ? It is not a thing of choice: it is a river that flows from the foot of the Invisible Throne, and flows by the path of obedience. I say again, man cannot choose his duties. You may choose to forsake your duties, and choose not to have the sorrow they bring. But you will go forth; and what will you find, my daughter ? Sorrow without duty — bitter herbs, and...
Page 164 - And thine age shall be clearer than the noonday; Thou shalt shine forth, thou shalt be as the morning.
Page 298 - Behold, I have refined thee, but not with silver ; I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction.
Page 22 - Milo, who in the course of centuries has lost her arms but not her witchery. Overcome, agitated, stricken through, almost terrified at her aspect, the sick man staggered back till he sank on a seat, and tears, hot and bitter, streamed down his cheeks. The beautiful lips of the goddess, which appear to breathe, smiled with her wonted smile at her unhappy victim. ' This one moment comprises a whole world of sorrow.
Page 136 - A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree/ The more you beat them, the better they be.