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Page 205 - He is happy, whose circumstances suit his temper ; but he is more excellent, who can suit his temper to any circumstances.
Page 167 - Here and there are left a few waving streamers of light, vague as a foreboding — they are the dust from the aurora's glittering cloak. But now it is growing again ; new lightnings shoot up ; and the endless game begins afresh. And all the time this utter stillness, impressive as the symphony of infinitude.
Page 420 - Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. 'Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown; With that wild wheel we go not up or down; Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. ' Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands; Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands; For man is man and master of his fate. ' Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd ; Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud; Thy wheel and thee we neither love...
Page 419 - Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud ; Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. 'Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown; With that wild wheel we go not up or down; Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. 'Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands; Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands; For man is man and master of his fate.
Page 441 - A man shall and must be valiant ; he must march forward, and quit himself like a man, — trusting imperturbably in the appointment and choice of the upper Powers; and on the whole not fear at all. Now and always, the completeness of his victory over Fear will determine how much of a man he is.
Page 179 - By October the ice was pressing round the Fram with a noise like thunder. " It is piling itself up into long walls and heaps high enough to reach a good way up the Pram's rigging : in fact, it is trying its very utmost to grind the Fram into powder.
Page 229 - Oh, how tired I am of thy cold beauty! I long to return to life. Let me go home again, as conqueror or as beggar; what does that matter? But let me get home to begin life anew. The years are passing here, and what do they bring? Nothing but dust, dry dust, which the first wind blows away; new dust comes in its place, and the next wind takes it too. Truth? Why should we always make so much of truth? Life is more than cold truth, and we live but once.
Page 262 - Taking everything into calculation, if I am to be perfectly honest, I think this is a wretched state of matters.
Page 130 - Indeed, the use of tractors and farm machines was so interwoven with this relatively new farm technology that it was impossible to tell where the one ended and the other began.
Page 166 - Over the ice fields there are cold, violet-blue shadows, with lighter pink tints where a ridge here and there catches the last reflection of the vanished day. Up in the blue of the cupola shine the stars, speaking peace as they always do, those unchanging friends. In the south...