Vanishing Roads, and Other Essays

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G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1915 - English essays - 377 pages
 

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Page 262 - How shall we pass most swiftly from point to point, and be present always at the focus where the greatest number of vital forces unite in their purest energy? To burn always with this hard, gem-like flame, to maintain this ecstasy, is success in life.
Page 111 - That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past.
Page 121 - His silence will sit drooping. Ham. Hear you, sir; What is the reason that you use me thus? I lov'd you ever: but it is no matter; Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew and dog will have his day.
Page 116 - And the LORD said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil? Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, Doth Job fear God for nought?
Page 76 - He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, That dares not put it to the touch, To gain or lose it all.
Page 377 - So I prophesied as I was commanded : and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone.
Page 27 - GIRDLE THAT which her slender waist confined, Shall now my joyful temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done. It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer; My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair; Give me but what this ribband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round.
Page 262 - While all melts under our feet, we may well catch at any exquisite passion, or any contribution to knowledge that seems, by a lifted horizon, to set the spirit free for a moment, or any stirring of the senses, strange dyes, strange flowers, and curious odours, or work of the artist's hands, or the face of one's friend.
Page 263 - With this sense of the splendour of our experience and of its awful brevity, gathering all we are into one desperate effort to see and touch, we shall hardly have time to make theories about the things we see and touch.
Page 263 - ... we have an interval, and then our place knows us no more. Some spend this interval in listlessness, some in high passions, the wisest, at least among 'the children of this world,

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