Biographia Literaria, Or, Biographical Sketches of My Literary Life and Opinions, 2 tomas

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W. Pickering, 1847 - 804 psl.

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Populiarios ištraukos

588 psl. - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never...
498 psl. - By bud of nobler race : this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature.
459 psl. - No man was ever yet a great poet, without being at the same time a profound philosopher.
587 psl. - Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast: Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise...
553 psl. - Joyous as morning Thou art laughing and scorning ; Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest, And, though little troubled with sloth, Drunken Lark ! thou would'st be loth To be such a traveller as I. Happy, happy Liver, With a soul as strong as a mountain river Pouring out praise to the Almighty Giver...
504 psl. - In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire: These ears alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire...
457 psl. - Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace...
451 psl. - What is poetry? — is so nearly the same question with, what is a poet? — that the answer to the one is involved in the solution of the other.
443 psl. - I hoped, might be of some use to ascertain, how far, by fitting to metrical arrangement a selection of the real language of men in a state of vivid sensation...
588 psl. - Nor man nor boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence, in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither ; Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

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