Life Jottings: Of an Old Edinburgh Citizen

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Сторінка 360 - But I'm sadly afraid, if we do not take care, A relapse to low life may our prospects impair ; So of beastly propensities let us beware, Which nobody can deny.
Сторінка 288 - Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days. The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.
Сторінка 158 - Oh! the bodily and mental wearisomeness of sitting six hours a day, staring idly at a page, without motion and without thought, and trembling at the gradual approach of the merciless giant. I never got a single prize, and once sat boobie at the annual public examination. The beauty of no Roman word, or thought, or action, ever occurred to me ! nor did I ever fancy that Latin was of any use except to torture boys.
Сторінка 334 - A clock that wants both hands, As useless when it goes as when it stands ; for only keep him going) and he bustles about the stage to some purpose.
Сторінка 480 - Age sits with decent grace upon his visage, And worthily becomes his silver locks; He wears the marks of many years well spent, Of virtue, truth well tried, and wise experience; A friend like this would suit my sorrows well.
Сторінка 155 - The satyrs of old were satyrs of note, With the head of a man, and the shanks of a goat; But the satyrs of Jesus these satyrs surpass, With the shanks of a sheep and the head of an ass, This is ascribed to Mr.
Сторінка 271 - Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime; An age that melts with unperceived decay, And glides in modest innocence away; Whose peaceful day benevolence endears, Whose night congratulating conscience cheers; The general favourite as the general friend: Such age there is, and who shall wish its end? Yet even on this her load misfortune flings, To press the weary minutes' flagging wings: New sorrow rises as the day returns, A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns.
Сторінка 354 - Base envy withers at another's joy, And hates that excellence it cannot reach.
Сторінка 206 - The truth is," wrote Lord Cockburn in July, 1846, " that Macaulay, with all his admitted knowledge, talent, eloquence, and worth, is not popular. He cares more for his ' History ' than for the jobs of his constituents, and answers letters irregularly, and with a brevity deemed contemptuous ; and, above all other defects, he suffers severely from the vice of overtalking, and consequently of underlistening.

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