Saint Pauls [afterw.] The Saint Pauls magazine, ed. by A. Trollope, 11 tomas

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Anthony Trollope
1872

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338 psl. - I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
59 psl. - Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.
341 psl. - Even such a shell the universe itself Is to the ear of Faith; and there are times, I doubt not, when to you it doth impart Authentic tidings of invisible things; Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power; And central peace, subsisting at the heart Of endless agitation.
340 psl. - It may be safely affirmed that there neither is, nor can be, any essential difference between the language of prose and metrical composition.
588 psl. - Though love repine and reason chafe, There came a voice without reply: " 'Tis man's perdition to be safe, When for the truth he ought to die.
341 psl. - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell ; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely ; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy ; for murmurings from within Were heard, sonorous cadences ! whereby To his belief, the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
621 psl. - I a' my fee, For ae blast o' the western wind, To blaw the reek frae thee." O then bespake her daughter dear,- — She was baith jimp and sma' : " O row
24 psl. - So a wild Tartar, when he spies A man that's handsome, valiant, wise, If he can kill him, thinks t...
367 psl. - Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
236 psl. - Princes, this clay must be your bed, In spite of all your towers ; The tall, the wise, the reverend head Must lie as low as ours. 3 Great God, is this our certain doom ? And are we still secure ? Still walking downward to the tomb, And yet prepare no more ? 4 Grant us the...

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