Something for everybody (and a garland for the year).

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Сторінка 282 - Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing; To shew that the Lord is upright: he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him.
Сторінка 184 - I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one.
Сторінка 113 - And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He, that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, And say — to-morrow is Saint Crispian : . Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars, And say, these wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Сторінка 184 - Reason thus with life, — If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep...
Сторінка 285 - A SWARM of bees in May Is worth a load of hay; A swarm of bees in June Is worth a silver spoon; A swarm of bees in July Is not worth a fly.
Сторінка 279 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it Love-in-idleness.
Сторінка 47 - When he was set down on the judgment seat, his wife sent unto him, saying, Have thou nothing to do with that just man : for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him.
Сторінка 131 - Come, bring with a noise, My merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing ; While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free, And drink to your hearts
Сторінка 206 - O call it not fat ! but an indefinable sweetness growing up to it — the tender blossoming of fat, fat cropped in the bud, taken in the shoot, in the first innocence, the cream and quintessence of the child-pig's yet pure food — the lean, no lean, but a kind of animal manna, or rather, fat and lean (if it must be so) so blended and running into each other, that both together make but one ambrosian result or common substance. Behold him while he is
Сторінка 98 - Rests on the hills ; and oh ! how awfully, Into that deep and tranquil firmament, The summits of Auseva rise serene ! The watchman on the battlements partakes The stillness of the solemn hour ; he feels The silence of the earth ; the endless sound Of flowing water soothes him ; and the stars, Which in that brightest moonlight well-nigh quenched.

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