Life and Letters of Harriet Beecher Stowe

Predný obal
Houghton, Mifflin, 1897 - 406 strán (strany)
Individual letters and fragments of letters composed by author Harriet Elizabeth Beecher Stowe (1811-96) between 1827 and 1893 are incorporated here into a continuous biographical narrative of Stowe's life. Though the materials assembled inadequately represent Stowe's correspondence, they do give a sense of her views on religion, marriage, child rearing, slavery, and writing.

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Strana 40 - Thrice he assay'd, and thrice, in spite of scorn, Tears, such as Angels weep, burst forth: at last Words, interwove with sighs, found out their way.
Strana 38 - The works of the LORD are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein.
Strana 321 - Therefore, whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light ; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops.
Strana 40 - To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend From wing to wing, and half enclose him round With all his peers: Attention held them mute.
Strana 323 - And some among you held, that if the King Had seen the sight he would have sworn the vow : Not easily, seeing that the King must guard That which he rules, and is but as the hind To whom a space of land is given to plow. Who may not wander from the allotted field Before his work be done...
Strana 309 - Fear not ; I am the first and the last, and the Living one ; and I was dead, and behold, I am alive for evermore, and I have the keys of death and of Hades.
Strana 107 - ... we arrive at heaven our home, Faith is our guide, and faith our light. 2 The want of sight she well supplies; She makes the pearly gates appear ; Far into distant worlds she pries, And brings eternal glories near. 3 Cheerful we tread the desert through, While faith inspires a heavenly ray, Though lions roar, and tempests blow, And rocks and dangers fill the way.
Strana 391 - Tis joy enough, my All in All, At thy dear feet to lie ; Thou wilt not let me lower fall, And none can higher fly.
Strana 278 - Purest ! There is a temple, sacred evermore, And all the babble of life's angry voices Dies in hushed stillness at its peaceful door.

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