Scribner's Magazine, Volume 42

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Charles Scribners Sons, 1907
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Page 134 - HE clasps the crag with crooked hands ; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring'd with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls ; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Page 319 - We found the people most gentle, loving, and faithful, void of all guile and treason, and such as live after the manner of the golden age.
Page 649 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii : — Look, in this place ran Cassias...
Page 328 - would it had been done ! Thou didst prevent me ; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. Pro. Abhorred slave ! Which any print of goodness will not take, Being capable of all ill ! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other : when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known...
Page 292 - You will be surprised to hear me say that (omitting one or two of my first efforts ) I do not consider any one of my stories better than another. There is a vast variety of kinds and, in degree of value, these kinds vary— but each tale is equally good of its kind. The loftiest kind is that of the highest imagination— and for this reason only "Ligeia
Page 610 - But life is not a matter of abstract principles, but a succession of pitiful compromises with fate, of concessions to old tradition, old beliefs, old charities and frailties.
Page 648 - And, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause; What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason! — Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause, till it come back to me.
Page 34 - Bright college years with pleasure rife The shortest, gladdest years of life. How swiftly are ye gliding by Oh, why doth time so quickly fly? The seasons come, the seasons go, The earth is green, or white with snow, But time and change shall naught avail To break the friendships formed at Yale.
Page 292 - Murders in the Rue Morgue," for instance, where is the ingenuity of unravelling a web which you yourself (the author) have woven for the express purpose of unravelling ? The reader is made to confound the ingenuity of the supposititious Dupin with that of the writer of the story.
Page 292 - These tales of ratiocination owe most of their popularity to being something in a new key — I do not mean to say that they are not ingenious — but people think them more ingenious than they are — on account of their method, and air of method.

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