The Poet at the Breakfast-table: He Talks with His Fellow-boarders and the Reader

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1884 - 418 strán (strany)
 

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Strana 356 - And the house, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready before it was brought thither : so that there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building.
Strana 350 - And, lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument: for they hear thy words, but they do them not.
Strana 220 - To him that hath, shall be given, and he shall have more abundantly ; from him that hath not, shall be taken, even that which he hath.
Strana 91 - I keep the subject constantly before me, and wait till the first dawnings open slowly by little and little into a full and clear light.
Strana 18 - Dont waste your time at family funerals grieving for your relatives: attend to life, not to death: there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it, and better.
Strana 74 - Before the angel, and of him to ask Chose rather ; he, she knew, would intermix Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute With conjugal caresses : from his lip Not words alone pleased her.
Strana 218 - He was once a man, and of some little name ; but of no worth, as his present unparalleled case makes but too manifest; for by the immediate hand of an avenging God, his very thinking substance has for more than seven years been continually wasting away, till it is wholly perished out of him, if it be not utterly come to nothing.
Strana 18 - For there we loved, and where we love is home, Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts...
Strana 137 - Many ideas grow better when transplanted into another mind than in the one where they sprang up. That which was a weed in one intelligence becomes a flower in the other, and a flower, again, dwindles down to a mere weed by the same change. Healthy growths may become poisonous by falling upon the wrong mental soil, and what seemed a nightshade in one mind unfold as a morning-glory in the other. — I thank God...
Strana 96 - Their ruins perished, and their place no more; Convinced, she now contracts her vast design, And all her triumphs shrink into a coin. A narrow orb each crowded conquest keeps; Beneath her palm here sad...

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