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Page 423 - Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar : and he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy lips ; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged.
Page 101 - Whatever is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas of pain and danger, that is to say, whatever is in any sort terrible, or is conversant about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotion which the mind is capable of feeling.
Page 107 - Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge ; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science.
Page 107 - For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
Page 536 - COLD in the earth, and the deep snow piled above thee ; Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave ! Have I forgot, my only love, to love thee, Severed at last by time's all-severing wave ? Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover Over the mountains, on that northern shore...
Page 153 - The soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son: the righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him.
Page 341 - When a prophet speaketh in the name of the Lord, if the thing follow not, nor come to pass, that is the thing which the Lord hath not spoken, but the prophet hath spoken it presumptuously: thou shalt not be afraid of him.
Page 108 - Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is the precious lifeblood of a master-spirit embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.
Page 571 - And Nature, the old nurse, took The child upon her knee, Saying: "Here is a story-book Thy Father has written for thee." " Come, wander with me," she said, " Into regions yet untrod ; And read what is still unread In the manuscripts of God." And he wandered away and away With Nature, the dear old nurse, Who sang to him night and day The rhymes of the universe. And whenever the way seemed long, Or his heart began to fail, She would sing a more wonderful song, Or tell a more marvellous tale.