Fraser's Magazine for Town and Country, Volumen19

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James Anthony Froude, John Tulloch
J. Fraser, 1879
Contains the first printing of Sartor resartus, as well as other works by Thomas Carlyle.
 

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Página 140 - But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
Página 165 - And one, an English home— gray twilight pour'd On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleep — all things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.
Página 174 - Cbaitanya, who lived at the end of the fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth centuries.
Página 153 - It is the land that freemen till, That sober-suited Freedom chose, The land, where girt with friends or foes A man may speak the thing he will ; A land of settled government, A land of just and old renown, Where Freedom broadens slowly down From precedent to precedent...
Página 313 - We wither from our youth, we gasp away — Sick — sick; unfound the boon — unslaked the thirst, Though to the last, in verge of our decay, Some phantom lures, such as we sought at first — But all too late, — so are we doubly curst. Love, fame, ambition, avarice — 't is the same, Each idle, and all ill, and none the worst — For all are meteors with a different name, And Death the sable smoke where vanishes the flame.
Página 167 - No part of its behaviour ever struck me more than the extreme timidity it always expresses with regard to rain ; for though it has a shell that would secure it against the wheel of a loaded cart, yet does it discover as much solicitude about rain as a lady dressed in all her best attire, shuffling away on the first sprinklings, and running its head up in a corner.
Página 165 - Lusiad, and I went to visit him at this place a few days afterwards. He was not at home ; but having a curiosity to see his apartment, we went in and found curious scraps of descriptions of animals, scrawled upon the wall with a black lead pencil.
Página 309 - Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the Road I was to wander in, Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!
Página 309 - Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road, ' "* Which to discover we must travel too.
Página 167 - When one reflects on the state of this strange being, it is a matter of wonder to find that Providence should bestow such a profusion of days, such a seeming waste of longevity, on a reptile that appears to relish it so little as to squander more than twothirds of its existence in a joyless stupor, and be lost to all sensation for months together in the profoundest of slumbers.

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