The Man of Genius

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Black, 1914 - 483 páginas
 

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Página 129 - But he answered and said unto him that told him; "Who is my mother? and who are my brethren ?" And he stretched forth his hand towards his disciples, and said ; " Behold, my mother, and my brethren.
Página 235 - Get thee to a nunnery; Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better, my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in. imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
Página 112 - Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.
Página 88 - Look here, upon this picture, and on this, The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, An eye like Mars, to threaten and command...
Página 265 - Honour thy " 'father, and thy mother;' and, ' Whoso curseth father, or, " ' mother, let him die the death : ' " but, ye say, ' If a man " ' shall say to his father, or, mother, It is Corban,' (that is " to say, a gift,) ' by whatsoever thou mightest be profited "
Página 122 - Your worm is your only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service, two dishes, but to one table — that's the end.
Página 102 - tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all : Since no man, of aught he leaves, knows, what is't to leave betimes ?
Página 119 - Excitements of my reason and my blood, And let all sleep, while to my shame I see, The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That, for a fantasy and trick of fame, Go to their graves like beds...
Página 258 - And Jesus answered and said unto them, I also will ask you one thing, which if ye tell me, I in like wise will tell you by what authority I do these things.
Página 109 - God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! Ah, fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely.

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