Paths to Power

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R.F. Fenno, 1901 - 229 pagine
 

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Pagina 203 - Man is his own star; and the soul that can Render an honest and a perfect man, Commands all light, all influence, all fate; Nothing to him falls early or too late. Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
Pagina 20 - My words fly up, my thoughts remain below : Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go.
Pagina 206 - BUT souls that of his own good life partake, He loves as his own self; dear as his eye They are to Him; He'll never them forsake; When they shall die, then God himself shall die; They live, they live in blest eternity.
Pagina 222 - To draw no envy, SHAKESPEARE, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ; While I confess thy writings to be such, As neither man, nor muse, can praise too much.
Pagina 122 - That all of good the past hath had Remains to make our own time glad, Our common, daily life divine, And every land a Palestine.
Pagina 222 - The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
Pagina 204 - When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
Pagina 104 - How shall I a habit break?" As you did that habit make. As you gathered, you must lose; As you yielded, now refuse. Thread by thread the strands we twist Till they bind us neck and wrist; Thread by thread the patient hand Must untwine ere free we stand. As we builded, stone by stone, We must toil, unhelped, alone, Till the wall is overthrown.
Pagina 223 - Sweet Swan of Avon ! what a sight it were To see thee in our waters yet appear, And make those flights upon the banks of Thames, That so did take Eliza and our James ! But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere Advanced, and made a constellation there...
Pagina 128 - A haze on the far horizon. The infinite, tender sky. The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields And the wild geese sailing high; And all over upland and lowland The charm of the golden-rod, Some of us call it Autumn, And others call it God.

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