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Page 63 - He then took his crust of bread out of his wallet again, as if to eat it, held it some time in his hand, then laid it upon the bit of his ass's bridle, looked wistfully at the little arrangement he had made, and then gave a sigh.
Page 183 - I felt such undescribable emotions within me, as I am sure could not be accounted for from any combinations of matter and motion. I am positive I have a soul; nor can all the books with which materialists have pestered the world ever convince me to the contrary.
Page 63 - AND this, said he, putting the remains of a crust into his wallet, and this should have been thy portion, said he, hadst thou been alive to have shared it with me.
Page 183 - As she told me this, she took the handkerchief out of her pocket to let me see it : she had folded it up neatly in a couple of vine leaves, tied round with a tendril ; on opening it, I saw an S marked in one of the corners.
Page 44 - I pity the man who can travel from Dan. to Beersheba, and cry, 'Tis all barren and so it is; and so is all the world to him, who will not cultivate the fruits it offers.
Page 187 - ... mere pomp of words! but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself all comes from thee, great great SENSORIUM of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our heads but falls upon the ground, in the remotest desert of thy creation...
Page 116 - I saw him pale and feverish ; in thirty years the western breeze had not once fanned his blood, — he had seen no sun, no moon, in all that time, nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his lattice; — his children — But here my heart began to bleed, and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait.
Page 133 - tis a quiet journey of the heart in pursuit of NATURE, and those affections which arise out of her, which make us love each other and the world, better than we do.
Page 114 - NATURE herself shall change no tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle or chymic power turn thy sceptre into iron with thee to smile upon him as he eats his crust, the swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled Gracious heaven! cried I, kneeling down upon the last step but one in my ascent, grant me but health, thou great Bestower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion and shower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine providence, upon those heads...