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... it is because sympathy is but a living again through our own past in a new form, that confession often prompts a response of confession.
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The right to rebellion is the right to seek a higher rule, and not to wander in mere lawlessness.
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I easily sink into mere absorption of what other minds have done, and should like a whole life for that alone.
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Here undoubtedly lies the chief poetic energy: - in the force of imagination that pierces or exalts the solid fact, instead of floating among cloud-pictures.
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Dark the Night, with breath all flowers, And tender broken voice that fills With ravishment the listening hours,-- Whisperings, wooings, Liquid ripples, and soft ring-dove cooings In low-toned rhythm that love's aching stills! Dark the night Yet is she bright, For in her dark she brings the mystic star, Trembling yet strong, as is the voice of love, From some unknown afar.
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A good solid bit of work lasts.
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The worst service, I fancy, that anyone can do for truth, is to set silly people writing on its behalf.
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I know forgiveness is a man's duty, but, to my thinking, that can only mean as you're to give up all thoughts o' taking revenge: it can never mean as you're t' have your old feelings back again, for that's not possible.
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There's times when the crockery seems alive, an' flies out o' your hand like a bird. It's like the glass, sometimes, 'ull crack as it stands. What is to be broke will be broke.
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A human being in this aged nation of ours is a very wonderful hole, the slow creation of long interchanging influences; and charm is a result of two such wholes, the one loving and the one loved.
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A patronizing disposition always has its meaner side.
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The words of genius have a wider meaning than the thought that prompted them.
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Eros has degenerated; he began by introducing order and harmony, and now he brings back chaos.
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There is much pain that is quite noiseless; and vibrations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder; robberies that leave man or woman for ever beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer --committed to no sound except that of low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of suppressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear.
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It is a very good quality in a man to have a trout-stream.
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A man deep-wounded may feel too much pain To feel much anger.
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I will to make life less bitter for a few within my reach.
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Self-confidence is apt to address itself to an imaginary dullness in others; as people who are well off speak in a cajoling tone to the poor.
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Loquacity with tongue or pen is its own reward -- or, punishment.
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There is no feeling, perhaps, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music,--that does not make a man sing or play the better.
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It is hard to believe long together that anything is "worth while," unless there is some eye to kindle in common with our own, some brief word uttered now and then to imply that what is infinitely precious to us is precious alike to another mind.
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It's all one web, sir. The prosperity of the country is one web.
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Unhappily the habit of being offensive 'without meaning it' leads usually to a way of making amends which the injured person cannot but regard as a being amiable without meaning it.
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It is a sad weakness in us, after all, that the thought of a man's death hallows him anew to us; as if life were not sacred too.