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answer appeared arms asked beautiful better called carried child Christian Church close comes continued death England English entered expression eyes face fact father feelings feet French girl give half hand head heard heart hope hour Hudson Lowe hundred interest kind lady land leave less light live look Lord manner matter means miles mind Miss Moore morning mother mountain nature never night observed once party passed perhaps person poor present question reached remained remarked replied rest returned river round seemed seen side soon speak spirit standing streets sure taken tell thing thought told took town traveller turned Vereker village walk whole wish wood young
Page 227 - Yet I had planted thee a noble vine, wholly a right seed : how then art thou turned into the degenerate plant of a strange vine unto me?
Page 333 - Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, And life unto the bitter in soul...
Page 34 - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt...
Page 308 - The White Whale swam before him as the monomaniac incarnation of all those malicious agencies which some deep men feel eating in them, till they are left living on with half a heart and half a lung.
Page 204 - They have the pale tint of flowers that blossomed in too retired a shade, — the coolness of a meditative habit, which diffuses itself through the feeling and observation of every sketch. Instead of passion there is sentiment ; and, even in what purport to be pictures of actual life, we have allegory, not always so warmly dressed in its habiliments of flesh and blood as to be taken into the reader's mind without a shiver.
Page 33 - Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last; One speaks the glory of the British queen, And one describes a charming Indian screen; A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes; At every word a reputation dies.
Page 204 - The book, if you would see anything in it, requires to be read in the clear, brown, twilight atmosphere in which it was written ; if opened in the sunshine, it is apt to look exceedingly like a volume of blank pages.
Page 33 - Clipp'd from the lovely head where late it grew) That, while my nostrils draw the vital air, This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.