Solitude, Volume 2

Couverture
Thomas Maiden, 1805
 

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Page 24 - But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth; for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal where there is no love.
Page 176 - In form and moving how express and admirable ! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, — no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
Page 176 - ... this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Page 172 - The powers of man; we feel within ourselves His energy divine; he tells the heart, He meant, he made us to behold and love What he beholds and loves, the general orb Of life and being; to be great like him, Beneficent and active.
Page 20 - Guilt is the source of sorrow ! 'tis the fiend, The avenging fiend, that follows us behind, With whips and stings. The blest know none of this, But rest in everlasting peace of mind, And find the height of all their heaven is goodness.
Page 43 - ... directed the vengeance of the cruel Aurelian. The fame of Longinus, who was included among the numerous and perhaps innocent victims of her fear, will survive that of the queen who betrayed, or the tyrant who condemned him.
Page 171 - And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain From all the tenants of the warbling shade Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake Fresh pleasure, unreproved.
Page 66 - It never was the meaning of his raillery to mortify ; and therefore, far from offending, it seldom failed to please and delight even those who were the objects of it. To his friends, who were frequently the objects of it, there was not, perhaps, any one of all his great and amiable qualities which contributed more to endear his conversation.
Page 109 - Unknown in hell. The prostrate soul beneath A load of huge imagination heaves ; And all the horrors that the murderer feels With anxious flutterings wake the guiltless breast.
Page 308 - Another ftill, and ftill another fpreads ; Friend, parent, neighbour, firft it will embrace ; His country next ; and next all human race : . Wide and more wide, th...

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