Blessed be Drudgery: And Other Papers

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D. Bryce and Son, 1890 - 112 стор.
 

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Сторінка 38 - I do not love thee, Dr. Fell, The reason why I cannot tell, But this alone I know full well. I do not love thee, Dr. Fell."— (Гит Brmcn.) " Non bene conveniunt nee in una sede moran tur Majestas et amor.
Сторінка 100 - I have begun several times many things, and I have often succeeded at last. I shall sit down now ; but the time will come when you will hear me.
Сторінка 98 - ... as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold we live; as chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing all things.
Сторінка 13 - I GIVE you the end of a golden string, Only wind it into a ball ; It will lead you in at Heaven's gate Built in Jerusalem's wall.
Сторінка 51 - There are natures in which, if they love us, we are conscious of having a sort of baptism and consecration: they bind us over to rectitude and purity by their pure belief about us; and our sins become that worst kind of sacrilege which tears down the invisible altar of trust.
Сторінка 59 - If you have no power of giving: An arm of aid to the weak, A friendly hand to the friendless, Kind words, so short to speak, But whose echo is endless: The world is wide, — these things are small, They may be nothing, but they are All.
Сторінка 100 - It is all very well," said he, " to tell me that a young man has distinguished himself by a brilliant first speech. He may go on, or he may be satisfied with his first triumph ; but show me a young man who has not succeeded at first, and nevertheless has gone on, and I will back that young man to do better than most of those who have succeeded at the first trial.
Сторінка 115 - Mid dark horrors sought, Till my peerless jewel, Faith to me she brought. Sorrow, that I wearied Should remain so long Wreathed my starry glory, The bright Crown of Song. Strife, that racked my spirit Without hope or rest, Left the blooming flower. Patience, on my breast. Suffering, that I dreaded, Ignorant of her charms, Laid the fair child, Pity, Smiling, in my arms.
Сторінка 24 - God choosing me to help Him. . . . . . . If my hand slacked I should rob God — since He is fullest good — Leaving a blank instead of violins. ... He could not make Antonio Stradivari's violins Without Antonio.

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