Nugę litterarię; or, Brief essays on literary, social, and other themes

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London, Cambridge, U.S.A. [printed], 1896 - 344 pages

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Page 150 - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook, In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 83 - Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam whereto he was converted might they not stop a beer-barrel? Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind 'away...
Page 15 - PENSION [an allowance made to any one without an equivalent. In England it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country'].
Page 208 - You are a Member of Parliament, and one of that Majority which has doomed my Country to Destruction. — You have begun to burn our Towns, and murder our People. — Look upon your Hands! They are stained with the Blood of your Relations! — You and I were long Friends: — You are now my Enemy, — and I am Yours, B. FRANKLIN.
Page 219 - Take care of the pence and the pounds will take care of themselves is as true of personal habits as of money.
Page 296 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old !— The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns...
Page 134 - My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn, I saw good strawberries in your garden there : I do beseech you send for some of them.
Page 144 - I do the very best I know how — the very best I can; and I mean to keep doing so until the end. If the end brings me out all right, what is said against me won't amount to anything. If the end brings me out wrong, ten angels swearing I was right would make no difference.
Page 4 - The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, can be preserved only by the most delicate handling.
Page 132 - They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder ; A dreary sea now flows between, But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.

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