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allow answered appearance asked Atticus authority beautiful believe better brought called Campbell certainly character charmed consequence continued course door doubt dream effect eyes fact father fear feel follow force garden gave give given hand happiness hear heard heart Heaven hope hour imagination interest interference king Lawrence laws least leave less lived look Lord matter McSweeny mean mind miracle Murdoch nature never Newton night object observed occasion once particular passed perhaps person philosopher pleasure present produce Providence question reason replied resolved rest retirement returned scene second causes seemed seen sent Sir John sort story suppose sure tell thing thought thousand tion told Tremaine true turn whole wish wonder
41. oldal - I thought that all things had been savage here ; And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ; If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church.
18. oldal - Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming: it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the chief ones of the earth; it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings of the nations.
334. oldal - They are carried up to the heaven, and down again to the deep ; their soul melteth away because of the trouble.
316. oldal - It is true that a little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion ; for while the mind of man looketh upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no farther; but when it beholdeth the chain of them confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity.
248. oldal - I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil : and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, — As he is very potent with such spirits, — Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: — the play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
150. oldal - But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embow-ed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.
120. oldal - We find our tenets just the same at last. Both fairly owning Riches, in effect, No grace of Heaven or token of th' elect; Given to the fool, the mad, the vain, the evil, To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the devil.
59. oldal - mere oblivion," a dead letter: for all that is worth remembering in life, is the poetry of it. Fear is poetry, hope is poetry, love is poetry, hatred is poetry, contempt, jealousy, remorse, admiration, wonder, pity, despair, or madness, are all poetry. Poetry is that fine particle within us, that expands, rarefies, refines, raises our whole being: without it "man's life is poor as beast's.