The Age of Whitewash

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M.H. Gill & Son, 1921 - 111 pàgines

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Passatges populars

Pàgina 80 - I often think it's comical How Nature always does contrive That every boy and every gal That's born into the world alive Is either a little Liberal, Or else a little Conservative!
Pàgina 16 - Youth! for years so many and sweet, "Tis known, that Thou and I were one, I'll think it but a fond conceit — It cannot be that Thou art gone!
Pàgina 16 - This drooping gait, this alter'd size: But Springtide blossoms on thy lips, And tears take sunshine from thine eyes! Life is but Thought: so think I will That Youth and I are house-mates still. Dew-drops are the gems of morning, But the tears of mournful eve! Where no hope is, life's a warning That only serves to make us grieve When we are old: — That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking-leave...
Pàgina 100 - By myself have I sworn, saith the Lord, for because thou hast done this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, that in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea shore ; and thy seed shall possess the gate of his enemies; and in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed ; because thou hast obeyed my voice.
Pàgina 62 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Pàgina 62 - And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Pàgina 16 - To make believe that thou art gone? 1 see these locks in silvery slips, This drooping gait, this altered size: But Spring-tide blossoms on thy lips, And tears take sunshine from thine eyes! Life is but thought: so think I will That Youth and I are house-mates still Dew-drops are the gems of morning, But the tears of mournful eve!
Pàgina 52 - Clara, my dear, there's nothing like work — give your boy an exercise ; " which caused me to be clapped down to some new 'labour there and then. As to any recreation with other children of my age, I had very little of that; for the gloomy theology of the Murdstones made all children out to be a swarm of little vipers (though there was a child once set in the midst of the Disciples), and held that they contaminated one another.
Pàgina 99 - JUST for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat — Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, Lost all the others she lets us devote ; They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver, So much was theirs who so little allowed : How all our copper had gone for his service ! Rags — were they purple, his heart had been proud...
Pàgina 81 - Have we not eyes ? have we not hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer ? If you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you poison us, do we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.

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