Bentley's Miscellany, Volume 57

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Charles Dickens, William Harrison Ainsworth, Albert Smith
Richard Bentley, 1865 - Literature

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Page 408 - Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration.
Page 69 - To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel. My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
Page 617 - But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee!
Page 519 - When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll, And swelling organs lift the rising soul, One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight : In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd, While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.
Page 521 - Soft shall be his pillow. There, through the summer day, Cool streams are laving ; There, while the tempests sway, Scarce are boughs waving ; There, thy rest shalt thou take, Parted for ever, Never again to wake, Never, O never.
Page 616 - If you do love old men, if your sweet sway Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, Make it your cause ; send down, and take my part...
Page 617 - If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, It will come, Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep.
Page 409 - The morning after my exit the sun will rise as bright as ever, the flowers smell as sweet, the plants spring as green, the world will proceed in its old course, people will laugh as heartily and marry as fast as they were used to do. " The memory of man," as it is elegantly expressed in the Book of Wisdom, " passeth away as the remembrance of a guest that tarrieth but one day.
Page 293 - He affects misanthropy, in order to conceal the sensibility of a heart, which is tender, even to a degree of weakness.
Page 76 - An acre in Middlesex is better than a principality in Utopia. The smallest actual good is better than the most magnificent promises of impossibilities. The wise man of the Stoics would, no doubt, be a grander object than a steamengine. But there are steam-engines. And the wise man of the Stoics is yet to be born.

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