The story of my wardship, Volum 2

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Pàgina 202 - Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And.
Pàgina 189 - After some time, to abuse Othello's ear, That he is too familiar with his wife :— He hath a person, and a smooth dispose, To be suspected ; fram'd to make women false. The Moor is of a free and open nature, That thinks men honest, that but seem to be so ; And will as tenderly be led by the nose, As asses are.
Pàgina 68 - It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
Pàgina 135 - We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most — feels the noblest — acts the best.
Pàgina 173 - A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town!
Pàgina 261 - For who knoweth what is good for man in this life, all the days of his vain life which he spendeth as a shadow?
Pàgina 172 - A man's a man for a' that. For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that. Ye see yon birkie, ca'da lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; Tho' hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that; For a' that, and a' that, His riband, star, and a' that; The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a
Pàgina 278 - Here at least, where nature sickens, nothing. Ah for some retreat Deep in yonder shining Orient, where my life began to beat! Where in wild Mahratta-battle fell my father, evil-starred; I was left a trampled orphan, and a selfish uncle's ward.
Pàgina 97 - On a poet's lips I slept, Dreaming like a love-adept In the sound his breathing kept. Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, But feeds on the aerial kisses Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses. He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, Nor heed nor see what things they be : But from these create he can Forms more real than living man, Nurslings of immortality.
Pàgina 269 - The table in fair order spread, They heap the glittering canisters with bread; Viands of various kinds allure the taste, Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast!

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