Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence of Henry Crabb Robinson ...

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Macmillan and Company, 1869
 

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Сторінка 60 - Comfort thee, O thou mourner, yet awhile! Again shall Elia's smile Refresh thy heart, where heart can ache no more. What is it we deplore? He leaves behind him, freed from griefs and years, Far worthier things than tears. The love of friends without a single foe: Unequalled lot below! His gentle soul, his genius, these are thine; For these dost thou repine? He may have left the lowly walks of men; Left them he has; what then? Are not his footsteps followed by the eyes Of all the good and wise? Tho...
Сторінка 447 - What is a communist ? One who has yearnings For equal division of unequal earnings : An idler or bungler, or both, he is willing To fork out his penny and pocket your shilling...
Сторінка 124 - Life is a Jest, and all Things show it; I thought so once, but now I know it.
Сторінка 20 - It is a fixed judgement of my mind, that an unbridled Democracy is the worst of all Tyrannies. Our Constitution had provided a check for the Democracy in the regal prerogative, influence and power, and in the House of Lords acting directly through its own Body and indirectly by the influence of individual Peers over a certain portion of the House of Commons — the old system provided in practice a check, both without and within.
Сторінка 90 - There was in Coleridge a sort of dreaminess which would not let him see things as they were. He would talk about his own feelings and recollections and intentions in a way that deceived others, but he was first deceived himself. 'I am sure,' said Wordsworth, 'that he never formed a plan or knew what was to be the end of Christabel, and that he merely deceived himself when he thought, as he says, that he had had the idea quite clear in his mind. But I believe that at the school the boys had a habit...
Сторінка 185 - I AM not one who much or oft delight To season my fireside with personal talk, Of friends, who live within an easy walk, Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight : And, for my chance-acquaintance, ladies bright, Sons, mothers, maidens withering on the stalk, These all wear out of me, like forms with chalk Painted on rich men's floors, for one feast-night Better than such discourse...
Сторінка 317 - It was with a feeling of predetermined dislike that I had the curiosity to look at Emerson at Lord Northampton's, a fortnight ago ; when, in an instant, all my dislike vanished. He has one of the most interesting countenances I ever beheld, — a combination of intelligence and sweetness that quite disarmed me.
Сторінка 89 - Shakespeare and Milton, but Cowper, Burns, etc.; as to the modern poets, Byron, Scott, etc., I do not quote them because I do not love them. Byron has great power and genius, but there is something so repugnant to my moral sense that I abhor them. Besides, even as works of mere taste there is this material circumstance — they came too late. My taste was formed, for I was forty-five when they appeared, and we cannot after that age love new things. New impressions are difficult to make. Had I been...
Сторінка 84 - Numbers of all diseased ; all maladies Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy, And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums.
Сторінка 235 - In some of its most eloquent parts it stops short of their wishes and expectations : but they all agree that it is a rare book, doing honour to the head and heart of your able and interesting friend. Mr. Wordsworth praised it with more unreserve — I may say, with more earnestness — than is usual with him. The serene and heavenlyminded Miss Fenwick was prodigal of her admiration. But Mrs. Wordsworth's was the crowning praise. She said — and you know how she would say it — "I wish I had read...

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