The Quarterly Review, 107. kötet

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John Murray, 1860
 

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169. oldal - My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth; But higher far my proud pretensions rise,— The son of parents passed into the skies!
330. oldal - In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half-hung, The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies — alas!
189. oldal - They treat me more like a near relation than a stranger, and their house is always open to me. The old gentleman carries me to Cambridge in his chaise. He is a man of learning and good sense, and as simple as Parson Adams. His wife has a very uncommon understanding, has read much to excellent purpose, and is more polite than a duchess.
338. oldal - I am amazed at his grace's speech. The noble duke cannot look before him, behind him, or on either side of him, without seeing some noble peer, who owes his seat in this house to his successful exertions in the profession to which I belong. Does he not feel that it is as honourable to owe it to these, as to being the accident of an accident?
209. oldal - My descriptions are all from nature: not one of them secondhanded. My delineations of the heart are from my own experience: not one of them borrowed from books, or in the least degree conjectural.
396. oldal - It seems a commonly received idea among men and even among women themselves that it requires nothing but a disappointment in love, the want of an object, a general disgust, or incapacity for other things, to turn a woman into a good nurse. This reminds one of ffie parish where a stupid old man was set to be schoolmaster because he was
486. oldal - Homer, Shakespeare, Milton and Virgil. Lamb got exceedingly merry and exquisitely witty ; and his fun in the midst of Wordsworth's solemn intonations of oratory was like the sarcasm and wit of the fool in the intervals of Lear's passion. He made a speech and voted me absent, and made them drink my health. " Now," said Lamb, " you old lake poet, you rascally poet, why do you call Voltaire dull?
183. oldal - Unless the Almighty arm had been under me, I think I should have died with gratitude and joy. My eyes filled with tears, and my voice choked with transport. I could only look up to heaven in silent fear, overwhelmed with love and wonder. But the work of the Holy Spirit is best described in his own words : it is ' joy unspeakable, and full of glory.
172. oldal - Thurlow, I am nobody, and shall be always nobody, and you will be Chancellor. You shall provide for me when you are.
335. oldal - I have laboured to make a covenant with myself that affection may not press upon judgment; for I suppose there is no man that hath any apprehension of gentry or nobleness, but his affection stands to the continuance of so noble a name and house, and would take hold of a twig or a twine-thread to uphold it.

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