The Cornhill Magazine, 8. kötet

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William Makepeace Thackeray
Smith, Elder., 1900
 

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318. oldal - ... noise Of bagpipers on distant Highland hills. The Shepherd, at such warning, of his flock Bethought him, and he to himself would say 'The winds are now devising work for me!
402. oldal - My father, my father, the chariots of Israel and the horsemen thereof!
849. oldal - But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain; But, with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices.
407. oldal - The flowers in an instant lost their light, the river its music ; the hills became oppressively desolate; a heaviness in the boughs of the darkened forest showed how much of their former power had been dependent upon a life which was not theirs, how much of the glory of the imperishable, or continually renewed, creation is reflected from things more precious in their memories than it, in its renewing.
256. oldal - It is a truth, that in his penitential years, viewing some of those pieces that had been loosely (God knows too loosely) scattered in his youth, he wished they had ,been abortive, or so shortlived, that his own eyes had witnessed their funerals.
125. oldal - Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such a salve can speak That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace...
127. oldal - The dropping of the daylight in the West, The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule She rode with round the terrace — all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech, Or blush, at least.
317. oldal - For most men in a brazen prison live, Where, in the sun's hot eye, With heads bent o'er their toil, they languidly Their lives to some unmeaning taskwork give, Dreaming of nought beyond their prison-wall.
427. oldal - I DO not ask, O Lord, that life may be A pleasant road ; I do not ask that Thou wouldst take from me Aught of its load ; I do not ask that flowers should always spring Beneath my feet ; I know too well the poison and the sting Of things too sweet. For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead, Lead me aright — Though strength should falter, and though heart should bleed — Through Peace to Light.
771. oldal - L'Ironie et la Pitié sont deux bonnes conseillères; l'une, en souriant, nous rend la vie aimable; l'autre, qui pleure, nous la rend sacrée.

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