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Сторінка 192 - This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall, Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England; This nurse, this teeming womb of royal...
Сторінка 154 - Vanitatum ! which of us is happy in this world ? Which of us has his desire? or, having it, is satisfied ? — come, children, let us shut up the box and the puppets, for our play is played out.
Сторінка 116 - Or say there's beauty with no soul at all (I never saw it - put the case the same - ) If you get simple beauty and nought else, You get about the best thing God invents, That's somewhat.
Сторінка 196 - It was at Rome, on the 15th of October, 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while the barefooted friars were singing vespers in the Temple of Jupiter 1, that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first started to my mind.
Сторінка 16 - Every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier, or not having been at sea." BOSWELL. "Lord Mansfield does not." JOHNSON. "Sir, if Lord Mansfield were in a company of General Officers and Admirals who have been in service, he would shrink ; he'd wish to creep under the table.
Сторінка 219 - ... an inward prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labor and intent study, which I take to be my portion in this life, joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to after times, as they should not willingly let it die.
Сторінка 216 - The affectionate Laidlaw beseeching him to stop dictating, when his audible suffering filled every pause. ' Nay, Willie,' he answered, ' only see that the doors are fast. I would fain keep all the cry as well as all the wool to ourselves ; but as to giving over work, that can only be when I am in woollen.
Сторінка 119 - I waked one morning in the beginning of last June from a dream, of which all I could recover was, that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head filled like mine with Gothic story) and that on the uppermost bannister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour.