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answered Anthony Hudson asked awhile bairn Bates Bobbie brother brought Cobbe colour comfort course dear dinner doctor door eyes face fact feel felt fire fool gave girl give gone gout hand heart hope hour imagined Janet Kelso knew Lady Hudson Larches laughed letter lips London looked Lupton Margaret Chessingham marriage matter Meg's mind Miss Chessingham mistress morning mother nature never nice night once passed pathy paused Peter Mariston pleasant poor pretty realised remember Roger Torre rose seemed sigh silence smiled sorry sort speak spoke stay stood Susie Susie Hudson Sybil Cochrane telegram tell things thought tired to-day to-night told Tony Tony Hudson took Torre's town Trentwood trouble truth turned Twelfth Night Uncle Hector voice waiting walked Wenhaston Wester Park woman words
Page 42 - The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
Page 193 - The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun. Is there anything whereof it may be said, "See, this is new"? it hath been already of old time, which was before us.
Page 85 - Why, sir, if the fellow does not think as he speaks, he is lying : and I see not what honour he can propose to himself from having the character of a liar. But if he does really think that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, why, sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons.
Page 165 - He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist is our helper. This amicable conflict with difficulty obliges us to an intimate acquaintance with our object, and compels us to consider it in all its relations. It will not suffer us to be superficial.
Page 124 - You always take the two sides of one question. Now go, and as I said, return for me When night falls, veiling in its shadows wide This glorious fabric of the universe.
Page 142 - OH, not more subtly silence strays Amongst the winds, between the voices, Mingling alike with pensive lays, And with the music that rejoices, Than thou art present in my days.
Page 62 - Our gude ship sails the morn." " Now ever alake, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm ! " I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm.
Page 33 - He was a friend to virtue, and in his most playful pages never forgets what is due to it. A gentleness, delicacy, and purity of feeling distinguishes whatever he wrote, and bears a correspondence to the generosity of a disposition which knew no bounds but his last guinea. . . . " The admirable ease and grace of the narrative, as well as the pleasing truth with which the principal characters are designed, make the ' Vicar of Wakefield ' one of the most delicious morsels of fictitious composition on...
Page 1 - I am in no pain about the matter. For it is a maxim with me, that no man was ever written out of reputation, but by himself.