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Seite 26 - Now for my life, it is a miracle of thirty years, which to relate, were not a history, but a piece of poetry, and would sound to common ears like a fable. For the world, I count it not an inn, but an hospital; and a place not to live, but to die in. The world that I regard is myself; it is the microcosm of my own frame that I cast mine eye on; for the other, I use it but like my globe, and turn it round sometimes for my recreation.
Seite 212 - Lo! where the heath, with withering brake grown o'er, Lends the light turf that warms the neighbouring poor ; From thence a length of burning sand appears, Where the thin harvest waves its withered ears ; Rank weeds, that every art and care defy, Reign o'er the land, and rob the blighted rye...
Seite 15 - All things began in order, so shall they end, and so shall they begin again ; according to the ordainer of order and mystical mathematics of the city of heaven.
Seite 46 - ... clouds and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water, and all nature; which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for...
Seite 16 - ... scholar's melancholy, which is emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical, nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's, which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
Seite 266 - Who but must laugh if such a man there be ? Who would not weep if Atticus were he?
Seite 38 - We whose generations are ordained in this setting part of time, are providentially taken off from such imaginations; and being necessitated to eye the remaining particle of futurity, are naturally constituted unto thoughts of the next world, and cannot excusably decline the consideration of that duration, which maketh pyramids pillars of snow, and all that's past a moment.
Seite 164 - He gives, He gives the best. Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, Obedient passions and a will resign'd ; For love, which scarce collective man can fill; For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill; For faith, that, panting for a happier seat. Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat.
Seite 48 - My wickedness, as I am in myself, has long appeared to me perfectly ineffable, and swallowing up all thought and imagination ; like an infinite deluge, or mountains over my head. I know not how to express better what my sins appear to me to be, than by heaping infinite upon infinite, and multiplying infinite by infinite.