Letters, Conversations, and Recollections of S. T. Coleridge

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Harper & brothers, 1836 - Critics - 266 pages

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Page 22 - For not to think of what I needs must feel, But to be still and patient, all I can ; And haply by abstruse research to steal From my own nature all the natural man — This was my sole resource, my only plan : Till that which suits a part infects the whole, And now is almost grown the habit of my soul VII.
Page 29 - And Jesus said unto them, Verily I say unto you, That ye which have followed me, in the regeneration when the Son of man shall sit in the throne of his glory, ye also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.
Page 95 - Alas! what boots it with incessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? Were it not better done as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?
Page 145 - Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
Page 106 - Mid countless brethren with a lonely heart Through courts and cities the smooth savage roams Feeling himself, his own low self the whole ; When he by sacred sympathy might make The whole one self! self, that no alien knows! Self, far diffused as Fancy's wing can travel ! Self, spreading still ! Oblivious of its own, Yet all of all possessing...
Page 165 - I have ever hated all nations, professions, and communities; and all my love is towards individuals. For instance, I hate the tribe of lawyers; but I love Counsellor Such-a-one, and Judge Such-a-one. It is so with physicians. I will not speak of my own trade, soldiers, English, Scotch, French, and the rest. But principally I hate and detest that animal called man, although I heartily love John, Peter, Thomas, and so forth.
Page 31 - No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, No waste so vacant, but. may well employ Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart. Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes Tis well to be bereft of promised good, That we may lift the soul, and contemplate With lively joy the joys we cannot share.
Page 90 - IT may indeed be phantasy when I Essay to draw from all created things Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings; And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie Lessons of love and earnest piety.
Page 107 - Who, with a toward or untoward lot, Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not — Plays, in the many games of life, that one Where what he most doth value must be won: Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray; Who, not content that former worth stand fast, Looks forward, persevering to the last, From well to better, daily self-surpast...
Page 32 - Tis well to be bereft of promised good, That we may lift the soul, and contemplate With lively joy the joys we cannot share. My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook Beat its straight path along the dusky air Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) Had crossed the mighty Orb's dilated glory, While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom No sound is dissonant...

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