Two Months in a London Hospital: Its Inner Life and Scenes : a Personal NarrativeGroombridge, 1865 - 239 pàgines |
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Two Months in a London Hospital; Its Inner Life and Scenes: A Personal Narrative Arnold James Cooley Previsualització no disponible - 2020 |
Two Months in a London Hospital: Its Inner Life and Scenes: A Personal ... Arnold James Cooley Previsualització no disponible - 2018 |
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Passatges populars
Pàgina 71 - To die, to sleep : To sleep : perchance to dream : ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause...
Pàgina 122 - The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be ; and that which is done is that which shall be done : and there is no new thing under the sun.
Pàgina 118 - And the Lord said, Behold the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do; and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do. Go to, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech.
Pàgina 165 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, When deep sleep falleth on men, .' Fear came upon me, and trembling, Which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face ; The hair of my flesh stood up : It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: An image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice, Shall mortal man be more just than God ? Shall a man be more pure than his Maker?
Pàgina 125 - For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday; seeing that is past as a watch in the night. As soon as thou scatterest them, they are even as a sleep ; and fade away suddenly like the grass. In the morning it is green, and groweth up ; but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered.
Pàgina 85 - O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down. And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Pàgina 67 - How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
Pàgina vii - Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness.
Pàgina 116 - And out of the ground the LORD God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.
Pàgina 135 - Yet if, as holiest men have deem'd, there be A land of souls beyond that sable shore, To shame the doctrine of the Sadducee And sophists, madly vain of dubious lore...