Charles Kingsley: His Letters and Memoires of His Life, Volum 1

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King, 1877 - 496 pÓgines
 

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PÓgina 2 - And Nature, the old nurse, took The child upon her knee, Saying: "Here is a story-book Thy Father has written for thee." " Come, wander with me," she said, " Into regions yet untrod ; And read what is still unread In the manuscripts of God." And he wandered away and away With Nature, the dear old nurse, Who sang to him night and day The rhymes of the universe. And whenever the way seemed long, Or his heart began to fail, She would sing a more wonderful song, Or tell a more marvellous tale.
PÓgina 413 - Wash you, make you clean ; Put away the evil of your doings from before my eyes ; Cease to do evil ; learn to do well ; Seek judgment ; relieve the oppressed ; Judge the fatherless ; plead for the widow.
PÓgina 97 - For verily I say unto you, That whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea; and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass; he shall have whatsoever he saith. Therefore I say unto you, What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them.
PÓgina 469 - Aid the dawning, tongue and pen; Aid it, hopes of honest men, Aid it, paper — aid it, type — Aid it, for the hour is ripe. And our earnest must not slacken Into play. Men of thought and men of action, Clear the way ! Lo!
PÓgina 483 - FAREWELL. My fairest child, I have no song to give you ; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray : Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever ; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long : And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever One grand, sweet song.
PÓgina 269 - I was no prophet, neither was I a prophet's son ; but I was an herdman, and a gatherer of sycamore fruit:* And the LORD took me as I followed the flock, and the LORD said unto me, Go, prophesy unto my people Israel...
PÓgina 92 - Within himself, from more to more ; Or, crown'd with attributes of woe Like glories, move his course, and show That life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom To shape and use.
PÓgina 194 - I am not afraid of the word; still less of the thing. You have heard many outcries against sensation lately; but, I can tell you, it is not less sensation we want, but more. The ennobling difference between one man and another, — between one animal and another, — is precisely in this, that one feels more than another.
PÓgina 64 - Nothing is sweeter than Love, nothing more courageous, nothing higher, nothing wider, nothing more pleasant, nothing fuller nor better in Heaven and earth ; because Love is born of God, and cannot rest but in God, above all created things.
PÓgina 220 - But when they deliver you up, be not anxious how or what ye shall speak: for it shall be given you in that hour what ye shall speak: for it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father that speaketh in you.

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