it has come to be my only food: And, as a lover of the Indian weed Steals to a self-indulgent solitude, To draw the dreamy sweetness from its root, So from the strong blithe world of valorous deed I steal away to suck this singing weed; And while the morning gathers up its strength, And while the noonday runneth on in might, Until the shadows and the evening light Come and awake me with a fear at length, Prone in some hankering covert hid away, Fain am I still my piping to prolong, And for the largess of a bounteous day Dare pay my maker with a paltry song.
Fourthly, it is confessedly unjust to break faith with any one: to violate an engagement, either express or implied, or disappoint expectations raised by our own conduct, at least if we have raised those expectations knowingly and voluntarily.
This is how he closes one of his finest sonnets to Vittoria Colonna: Nor hath God deigned to show Himself elsewhere More clearly than in human forms sublime; Which, since they image Him, compel my love.
On the 10th, a great battle will be fought, which will begin at four of the clock in the afternoon, and last until nine at night, with great obstinacy, but no very decisive event.
Humorously and sardonically the college professor is served up in "The Better Recipe," by George Boas (Atlantic Monthly, March); the doctorate degree method is satirized so bitterly, by Sinclair Lewis, in "The Post Mortem Murder" (Century, May), as to challenge wonder, though so subtly as to escape all save the initiated.
He did not know.
Religion is the force that relates action to life.
So long as we remained in France his humour was like this, delicate and expansive, but an accidental allusion led us across the Channel when he changed.
Simpson, puzzled, amazed, and a little scared at last, had barely time to notice the position before it dissolved.
On the evening of the day when she was buried, a rich man went, not to Pilate, but to the cure of the place.
Gloom deepened and had no light to relieve it, men supped full of horrors--there was no slackening of the tension, no concession to overwrought nerves, no resting-place for the overwrought soul.
See Biography Methodism Miller's daughter The (Tennyson) Minerva Press, The "Mira" Mitford, Miss Montgomery, Robert Monthly Review Moore, Thomas Murillo Murray, John (publisher) Muston (Leicestershire) N New Monthly Newman, Cardinal Newspaper, The Nineteenth Century North, Mr. Dudley --Lord Novels in Crabbe's day O Omar Khayyam Opium eating Our Village (Miss Mitford) P Pains of Sleep (Coleridge) Parents' Assistant, The (Edgeworth) Parham Parish Register, The Parting Hour, The Patron, The Phillips (artist) "Phoebe Dawson" Pluralities Poacher, The (Scott) Poor, State relief of Pope Posthumous Poems Pretyman, Bishop Priest, Description of Parish Progress of Error (Cowper) Pucklechurch Q Quarterly Review Queensberry, Duke of R Raleigh Reform Bill Riots Rejected Addresses (Smith) Rendham Reynolds, Sir Joshua Richardson (novelist) Ridout, Miss Charlotte Riots, Gordon; Bristol Rogers, Samuel Rokeby (Scott) Romilly, Sir Samuel Ruskin Ruth Rutland, Duke of S Scott, Sir Walter Seasons, The (Thomson) Sellers, Miss Edith Shackleton, Edward Shakespeare Shelburne, Lord, lines to Shelley Siddons, Mrs. Simple Susan (Edgeworth) Sir Eustace Grey Sisters The Smith, James (Rejected, Addresses) Smollett Smugglers and Poachers Solitary Reaper, The (Wordsworth) Southey Spenser Spirit of the Age. (
His birthplace, nay his caste, were mysteries.
The nature of a privilege (said he) is exclusiveness, that of a principle is communicative.
And as for whispered protestations and chaste kisses-- for really their love had a touch of romance about it you could hardly have expected, but which yet kept it pure, if not in some degree elevated above the loves of common people--these were repeated so often about the quiet parts of Arthur's Seat and the King's Park, and the fields about the Dumbiedykes and Duddingstone Loch, that they were the very moral aliments on which they lived.
Properly speaking, there were no "first living things."
The time of our visit was in the dry season, which lasts from October till April, and alternates with the wet one, from May till September.
Those who shall live when we are dead may tell their children, perhaps, how, out of anguish and darkness such as the world seldom has borne, the enduring morning evolved of the true world and the true man.