The London Quarterly Review, Volúmenes145-146

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Theodore Foster, 1878
 

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Página 11 - I find then a law, that, when I would do good, evil is present with me. For I delight in the law of God after the inward man : but I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members.
Página 105 - Her voice was ever soft, Gentle, and low, — an excellent thing in woman.
Página 119 - And God said unto him, Because thou hast asked this thing, and hast not asked for thyself long life; neither hast asked riches for thyself, nor hast asked the life of thine enemies; but...
Página 89 - That every such action shall be for the benefit of the wife, husband, parent and child of the person whose death shall have been so caused...
Página 187 - With daring aims irregularly great. Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by, Intent on high designs — a thoughtful band, By forms...
Página 19 - Excudent alii spirantia mollius aera, credo equidem, vivos ducent de marmore vultus, orabunt causas melius, caelique meatus describent radio et surgentia sidera dicent : 850 tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento (hae tibi erunt artes), pacisque imponere morem, parcere subiectis et debellare superbos.
Página 108 - And ruder words will soon rush in To spread the breach that words begin ; And eyes forget the gentle ray They wore in courtship's smiling day; And voices lose the tone that shed A tenderness round all they said; Till fast declining, one by one, The sweetnesses of love are gone...
Página 15 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks...
Página 105 - Calypso once each heart alarm'd, Aw'd without virtue, without beauty charm'd ; Her tongue bewitch'd as oddly as her eyes, Less wit than mimic, more a wit than wise ; Strange graces still, and stranger flights she had, Was just not ugly, and was just not mad ; Yet ne'er so sure our passion to create, As when she touch'd the brink of all we hate.
Página 280 - On every side you look, behold the wall ! No pleasing intricacies intervene, No artful wildness to perplex the scene : Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother, And half the platform just reflects the other. The suffering eye inverted Nature sees, Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees...

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