Proceedings ..., Volumes 22-25

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Página 30 - Is this a dagger that I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:— I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
Página 73 - us in our Infancy. Shades of the prison house begin to close Upon the growing Boy, But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy: The Youth, who dally, farther from the East Must travel, still is Nature's Priest And by the Vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length
Página 73 - farther from the East Must travel, still is Nature's Priest And by the Vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day. Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom
Página 30 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of our
Página 30 - do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use all gently.
Página 71 - bourne of Time and Space The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.
Página 32 - The queen, my lord, is dead." "She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word— To-morrow, to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps In this petty
Página 64 - They read in the book, of the law of God, distinctly, and gave the sense and caused them to understand the reading. And all the people went their way to
Página 31 - and though you throw it with more than Herculean force and precision, you will be no more able to pierce him than to penetrate the hard shell of a tortoise with a rye straw. Such is man, and so must he be understood by those who would lead him, even to his own best interests.
Página 25 - a sense of law and duty And a face turned from the clod; Some call It evolution, And others call it God. A haze on the far horizon, The infinite tender sky, The ripe rich tints of the cornfields And the wild geese floating high. And all over upland and lowland The charm of the golden-rod, Some of us call it autumn And others call it God.

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