Table Talk: Opinions on Books, Men, and Things

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Page 70 - I have not loved the world, nor the world me ; I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd To its idolatries a patient knee, — Nor coin'd my cheek to smiles, — nor cried aloud In worship of an echo ; in the crowd They could not deem me one of such ; I stood Among them, but not of them ; in a shroud Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still could, Had I not filed (') my mind, which thus itself subdued.
Page 191 - Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that. You take my house, when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house ; you take my life, When you do take the means whereby I live.
Page 30 - Purification in the old law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. Her face was...
Page 226 - As a sick girl. Ye gods ! it doth amaze me A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world And bear the palm alone.
Page 28 - AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not; in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks.
Page 239 - But nature makes that mean : so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler...
Page 71 - I have not loved the world, nor the world me, — But let us part fair foes ; I do believe, Though I have found them not, that there may be Words which are things, — hopes which will not deceive, And virtues which are merciful, nor weave Snares for the failing ; I would also deem O'er others...
Page 86 - Merciful heaven! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.
Page 64 - Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, Is littleness ; that he, who feels contempt For any living thing, hath faculties Which he has never used ; that thought with him Is in its infancy. The man, whose eye Is ever on himself, doth look on one, The least of nature's works, one who might move The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds Unlawful, ever.
Page 4 - On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th...

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