The Cornhill Magazine, Volym 17; Volym 21

Framsida
George Smith, William Makepeace Thackeray
Smith, Elder., 1868
 

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Sida 312 - I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress : My God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, And from the noisome pestilence.
Sida 304 - Wherever God erects a house of prayer, The Devil always builds a chapel there: And 'twill be found upon examination, The latter has the largest congregation.
Sida 106 - It was a consuming vexation to my father, that my mother never asked the meaning of a thing she did not understand. That she is not a woman of science, my father would say • — is her misfortune — but she might ask a question. — My mother never did. In short, she went out of the world at last without knowing whether it turned round, or stood still. My father had officiously told her above a thousand times which way it was, — but she always forgot.
Sida 591 - HERE, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, The darling of our crew; No more he'll hear the tempest howling, For Death has broached him to. His form was of the manliest beauty. His heart was kind and soft; Faithful below he did his duty, But now he's gone aloft.
Sida 586 - D'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch All as one as a piece of the ship, And with her brave the world without offering to flinch From the moment the anchor's atrip.
Sida 35 - For a long time, as I have said, the strong feudal habits of subordination and deference continued to tell upon the working class. The modern spirit has now almost entirely dissolved those habits, and the anarchical tendency of our worship of freedom in and for itself, of our superstitious faith, as I say, in machinery, is becoming very manifest.
Sida 43 - I say, then, away with the Mass! It is from the bottomless pit; and in the bottomless pit shall all liars have their part, in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone.
Sida 305 - hieroglyphic state machine, contrived to punish fancy in', and ending Tell them that placed him here, They're scandals to the times, Are at a loss to find his guilt, And can't commit his crimes may stand for specimens of his best manner.
Sida 153 - Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer,...
Sida 42 - ... we should for the future call industrialism culture, and the industrialists the men of culture, and then of course there can be no longer any misapprehension about their true character ; and besides the pleasure of being wealthy and comfortable, they will have authentic recognition as vessels of sweetness and light.

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