Eliza Cook's journal

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Page 279 - yon holy pile; That grand, old, time-worn turret spare;" Meek Reverence, kneeling in the aisle, Cried out, "Forbear!
Page 267 - Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here? Not of myself, by some great Maker then, In goodness and in power pre-eminent : Tell me, how may I know him, how adore, From whom I have that thus I move and live, And feel that I am happier than I know.
Page 31 - It is that powerful attraction towards all that we conceive, or fear, or hope beyond ourselves, when we find within our own thoughts the chasm of an insufficient void, and seek to awaken in all things that are, a community with what we experience within ourselves.
Page 122 - Oh the corroding, torturing, tormenting thoughts, that disturb the brain of the unlucky wight who must draw upon it for daily sustenance ! Henceforth I retract all my fond complaints of mercantile employment ; look upon them as lovers
Page 269 - It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.
Page 279 - T was but the ruin of the bad, — The wasting of the wrong and ill ; Whate'er of good the old time had Was living still. Calm grew...
Page 80 - Tis full of anxious care. Speak gently to the aged one, Grieve not the careworn heart ; The sands of life are nearly run — Let such in peace depart. Speak gently, kindly, to the poor, Let no harsh tone be heard ; They have enough they must endure, Without an unkind word.
Page 157 - Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
Page 31 - If we reason we would be understood; if we imagine we would that the airy children of our brain were born anew within another's; if we feel we would that another's nerves should vibrate to our own, that the beams of their eyes should kindle at once and mix and melt into our own ; that lips of motionless ice should not reply to lips quivering and burning with the heart's best blood: — this is Love.
Page 294 - If a man was to compare the effect of a single stroke of the pickaxe, or of one impression of the spade, with the general design and last result, he would be overwhelmed by the sense of their disproportion ; yet those petty operations, incessantly continued, in time surmount the greatest difficulties, and mountains are levelled, and oceans bounded, by the slender force of human beings.

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