The Quarterly Review, Zväzok 79

Predný obal
William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, John Murray, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle), George Walter Prothero
John Murray, 1847
 

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Strana 181 - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Strana 467 - Be merciful after thy power. If thou hast much, give plenteously; if thou hast little, do thy diligence gladly to give of that little: for so gatherest thou thyself a good reward in the day of necessity.
Strana 299 - It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity.
Strana 322 - Ay, sir ; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand. Pol. ' That's very true, my lord. Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god kissing carrion — 'Have you a daughter ? Pol. I have, my lord. Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun : conception is a blessing ; but not as your daughter may conceive.
Strana 335 - Of thinking too precisely on th' event, A thought which quarter'd hath but one part wisdom, And ever three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say This thing's to do...
Strana 334 - Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
Strana 43 - But if fond love thy heart can gain, I never broke a vow ; Nae maiden lays her skaith to me, I never loved but you. For you alone I ride the ring, For you I wear the blue ; For you alone I strive to sing, O tell me how to woo ! Then tell me how to woo thee, Love ; O tell me how to woo thee ! For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, Tho ne'er another trow me.
Strana 338 - Gallus et Hesperiis et Gallus notus Eois, Et sua cum Gallo nota Lycoris erit.
Strana 325 - O God ! I could be bounded in a nut-shell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
Strana 327 - I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.

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