Proceedings, Volym 51

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Sida 103 - There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine ? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — They sought a faith's pure shrine! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod; They have left unstained what there they found, Freedom to worship God.
Sida 91 - O'er each fair sleeping brow ; She had each folded flower in sight, — Where are those dreamers now ? One midst the forest of the West, By a dark stream is laid, — The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade.
Sida 291 - I confess I am not charmed with the ideal of life held out by those who think that the normal state of human beings is that of struggling to get on ; that the trampling, crushing, elbowing, and treading on each other's heels, which form the existing type of social life, are the most desirable lot of human kind, or anything but the disagreeable symptoms of one of the phases of industrial progress.
Sida 183 - ... we are reduced to the alternative of believing that the Mind, or Ego, is something different from any series of feelings, or possibilities of them, or of accepting the paradox, that something which ex hypothesi is but a series of feelings, can be aware of itself as a series.
Sida 55 - Grudge every minute as it passes by, Made the more mindful that the sweet days die Remember me a little then I pray, The idle singer of an empty day. The heavy trouble, the bewildering care That weighs us down who live and earn our bread, These idle verses have no power to bear; So let me sing of names remembered, Because they, living not, can ne'er be dead, Or long time take their memory quite away From us poor singers of an empty day.
Sida 55 - OF Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing, I cannot ease the burden of your fears, Or make quick-coming death a little thing, Or bring again the pleasure of past years, Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears, Or hope again for aught that I can say, The idle singer of an empty day.
Sida 249 - Now the Lord had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah. And Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights.
Sida 210 - A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, And sweet as English air could make her, she : But Walter hail'da score of names upon her, And 'petty Ogress,' and 'ungrateful Puss,' And swore he long'd at college, only long'd, All else was well, for she-society.
Sida 103 - And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Sida 195 - I think he must be under forty — not much under it. /One of the finest-looking men in the world. A great shock of rough, dustydark hair ; bright, laughing, hazel eyes ; massive aquiline face, most massive yet most delicate ; of sallow-brown complexion, almost Indian-looking ; clothes cynically loose, free-and-easy ; smokes infinite tobacco. His voice is musical metallic — fit for loud laughter and piercing wail, and all that may lie between ; speech and speculation free and plenteous : I do not...

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