Old Friends: Being Literary Recollections of Other Days

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Moffat, Yard, 1914 - Authors, American - 407 pages
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Page 200 - He answered nothing. But he led me to the shore. And on that part of it where she and I had looked for shells, two children — on that part of it where some lighter fragments of the old boat, blown down last night, had been scattered by the wind — among the ruins of the home he had wronged — I saw him lying with his head upon his arm, as I had often seen him lie at school.
Page 251 - ... then dies the man in you ; then once more perish the buds of art and poetry, and science, as they have died already in a thousand thousand men.
Page 226 - There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.
Page 351 - ... a native clearness and shortness, a domestical plainness, and a peculiar kind of familiarity ; which can only affect the humour of those to whom they were intended. The...
Page 252 - Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
Page 150 - A man's best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet, It is the distant and the dim That we are sick to greet...
Page 249 - Unconsciously and surely the ear and heart were charmed. How was it done ? Ah ! how did Mozart do it ? how Raphael ? The secret of the rose's sweetness, of the bird's ecstasy, of the sunset's glory — that is the secret of genius and of eloquence.
Page 28 - I am drawing near to the close of my career ; I am fast shuffling off the stage. I have been perhaps the most voluminous author of the day ; and it is a comfort to me to think that I have tried to unsettle no man's faith, to corrupt no man's principle, and that I have written nothing which on my deathbed I should wish blotted.
Page 35 - Ah shameless ! for he did but sing A song that pleased us from its worth ; No public life was his on earth, No blazon'd statesman he, nor king. He gave the people of his best : His worst he kept, his best he gave.
Page 1 - They are all gone into the world of light ! And I alone sit lingering here; Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear...

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