The Life and labours of Sir Charles Bell, K.G.H., F.R.S.S., L. & E.

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R. Bentley, 1860 - 250 Seiten
 

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Seite 199 - I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me...
Seite 71 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Seite 145 - Who is like unto the Lord our God, who dwelleth on high ; who humbleth himself to behold the things that are in heaven, and in the earth...
Seite 222 - Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry, The distant hills are looking nigh. How restless are the snorting swine ! The busy flies disturb the kine ; Low o'er the grass the swallow wings, The cricket, too, how sharp he sings ! Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws...
Seite 248 - I was so persecuted with discussions arising from the publication of my theory of light, that I blamed my own imprudence for parting with so substantial a blessing as my quiet, to run after a shadow.
Seite 17 - To me his lectures were like the opening of the heavens. I felt that I had a soul. His noble views, unfolded in glorious sentences, elevated me into a higher world. I was as much excited and charmed as any man of cultivated taste would be, who, after being ignorant of their existence, was admitted to all the glories of Milton, and Cicero, and Shakespeare. They changed my whole nature.
Seite 222 - Quits mutton bones on grass to feast. And, see yon rooks, how odd their flight, They imitate the gliding kite, And seem precipitate to fall, As if they felt the piercing ball — 'Twill surely rain — I see with sorrow Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.
Seite 30 - WUT, is so infinitely distressing to people of good taste, is laughing immoderately at stated intervals. They are so imbued with metaphysics that they even make love metaphysically. I overheard a young lady of my acquaintance, at a dance in Edinburgh, exclaim, in a sudden pause of the music, "What you say, my Lord, is very true of love in the aibstract, but — " here the fiddlers began fiddling furiously, and the rest was lost.
Seite 222 - The glow-worms, numerous and bright, Illumed the dewy dell last night. At dusk the squalid toad was seen, Hopping...
Seite 81 - It was a strange thing to feel my clothes stiff with blood, and my arms powerless with the exertion of using the knife; and more extraordinary still, to find my mind calm amidst such...

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