Plutarch's Lives, Volume 1

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Little, 1874
 

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A favorite book of Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, George Washington and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Read it and you will see why.

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Page 305 - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground ; Another race the following spring supplies ; They fall successive, and successive rise : So generations in their course decay; So flourish these when those are pass'd away.
Page 331 - No more — but hasten to thy tasks at home, There guide the spindle, and direct the loom : Me glory summons to the martial scene, The field of combat is the sphere for men. Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, The first in danger as the first in fame.
Page 12 - It is indeed a desirable thing to be well descended, but the glory belongs to our ancestors.
Page 11 - What mean you (fellow citizens) that you thus turn every stone to scrape wealth together, and take so little care of your children, to whom, one day, you must relinquish it all?
Page 331 - All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. No more — but hasten to thy tasks at home, There guide the spindle, and direct the loom : Me glory summons to the martial...
Page 469 - Fair. in the plan the future palace rose, Where my Ulysses and his race might reign, And portion to his tribes the wide domain. To them my vassals had resign'da soil.
Page xx - He thinks that the inhabitants of Asia came to be vassals to one, only for not having been able to pronounce one syllable; which is, No.
Page xv - I had rather a great deal men should say there was no such man at all as Plutarch, than that they should say that there was one Plutarch that would eat his children as soon as they were born; as the poets speak of Saturn.
Page 324 - Struck through with wounds, all honest on the breast. But when the Fates, in fulness of their rage, Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age, In dust the reverend lineaments deform, And pour to dogs the life-blood scarcely warm : This, this is misery ! the last, the worst, That man can feel ; man, fated to be curst ! " He said, and acting what no words could say, Rent from his head the silver locks away.
Page 138 - Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd; But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind: In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his soul. Twelve days were past, and now the dawning light The gods had summon'd to the Olympian height: Jove, first ascending from the watery bowers, Leads the long order of ethereal powers.

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