Elements of Criticism, Volume 1

Capa
S. Campbell & son, E. Duyckinck, 1823
 

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Página 133 - I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life ; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.
Página 134 - If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain ; And, when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake : 'tis true, this god did shake...
Página 178 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, Like a Colossus ; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Página 75 - I had a friend that lov'd her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her.
Página 188 - To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue, A curse shall light upon the limbs of men ; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy...
Página 181 - Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Página 229 - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? O no, the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
Página 381 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.
Página 138 - Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she — O God ! a beast that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer — married with mine uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules...
Página 75 - Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels...

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