Yankee Notions, Or, Whittlings of Jonathan's Jack-knife, Band 1

T.W. Strong, 1852

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Seite 160 - Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged away.
Seite 154 - Locke," to me far more than Bramah's patent worth, — And now my losses I deplore, without a " Home " on earth. If once a book you let them lift, another they conceal, For though I caught them stealing "Swift,
Seite 160 - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul...
Seite 158 - A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are punished.
Seite 113 - Ay, when he undertakes it, He'll make the thing, and the machine that makes it; And, when the thing is made, — whether it be To move on earth, in air, or on the sea. Whether on water, o'er the waves to glide, Or, upon land, to roll, revolve or slide, Whether to whirl or jar, to strike or ring. Whether it be a piston or a spring, Wheel, pulley, tube sonorous, wood or brass, — The thing designed shall surely come to pass; For, when his hand's upon it, you may know That there's go in it, and he'll...
Seite 113 - That murmurs from his pumpkin-leaf trombone, Conspire to teach the boy. To these succeed His bow, his arrow of a feathered reed, His wind-mill, raised the passing breeze to win, His water-wheel, that turns upon a pin ; Or, if his father lives upon the shore, You'll see his ship, beam ends upon the floor, Full rigged, with raking masts and timbers staunch, And waiting, near the wash-tub, for a launch.
Seite 19 - A gentle failure of the perceptions comes creeping over one, the spirit of consciousness disengages itself more and more, with slow and hushing degrees, like a mother detaching her hand from that of her sleeping child; the mind seems to have a balmy lid closing over it, like the eye; — 'tis closing; — 'tis more closing; — 'tis closed. The mysterious spirit has gone to take its airy rounds.
Seite 35 - As he button'd up his pocket with a condescending bow. And once again we met ; but no bandit chief was there ; His rouge was off, and gone that head of once luxuriant hair: He lodges in a two-pair back, and...
Seite 360 - I used to be called a Frenchman, because I took the French side in politics: and though this was unjust, yet the truth is, I should have been a French atheist, if it had not been for one recollection, and that was, the memory of the time when my departed mother used to take my little hands in hers, and cause me on my knees to say, ' Our Father which art in heaven...
Seite 67 - To die: to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life...

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