Miscellanies, Old and New

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T. Whittaker, 1876 - 258 стор.

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Сторінка 217 - There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed by the creator into a few forms or into one; and that, while this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.
Сторінка 189 - Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundations of the earth ; and the heavens are the work of thine hands...
Сторінка 258 - Thy flame is blown abroad from all the heights, Through all the nations, and a sound is heard, As of a mighty wind, and men devout, Strangers of Rome, and the new proselytes, In their own language hear thy wondrous word, And many are amazed and many doubt.
Сторінка 201 - These are the generations of the heavens and of the earth when they were created in the day that the LORD God made the earth and the heavens...
Сторінка 257 - And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers! But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves, And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers! Ah!
Сторінка 200 - Every rank of creatures, as it ascends in the scale of creation, leaves death behind it or under it. The metal at its height of being seems a mute prophecy of the coming vegetation, into a mimic semblance of which it crystallizes.
Сторінка 253 - Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.
Сторінка 192 - a type distinguishable from a fragment of albumen only by its finely granular character.
Сторінка 240 - The rights of Monarchy, the Heavens, the Stream of Fire, the Pit, In vision seen, I sang as far as to the Fates seemed fit; But since my soul, an alien here, hath flown to nobler wars, And, happier now, hath gone to seek its Maker 'mid the stars, Here am I, Dante, shut, exiled from the ancestral shore, Whom Florence, the of all least-loving mother, bore.
Сторінка 244 - twill give us If thou do eat of us; thyself didst clothe us With this poor flesh, and do thou strip it off.

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