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His heart was as great as the world, but there was no room in it to hold the memory of a wrong.
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God will not have his work made manifest by cowards
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Let us draw a lesson from nature, which always works by short ways. When the fruit is ripe, it falls.
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Whatever limits us we call Fate.
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Is not marriage an open question, when it is alleged, from the beginning of the world, that such as are in the institution wish to get out, and such as are out wish to get in?
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The bitterest tragic element in life to be derived from an intellectual source is the belief in a brute Fate or Destiny.
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A man is the whole encyclopedia of facts.
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Pass in, pass in, the angels say, In to the upper doors; Nor count compartments of the floors, But mount to Paradise By the stairway of surprise.
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Beauty will not come at the call of a legislature, nor will it repeat in England or America its history in Greece. It will come, as always, unannounced, and spring up between the feet of brave and earnest men.
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Circles, like the soul, are neverending and turn round and round without a stop
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England’s genius filled all measure Of heart and soul, of strength and pleasure, Gave to the mind its emperor, And life was larger than before: Nor sequent centuries could hit Orbit and sum of Shakespeare’s wit. The men who lived with him became Poets, for the air was fame.
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Every violation of truth is not only a sort of suicide in the liar, but is a stab at the health of human society.
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You shall have joy, or you shall have power, said God; you shall not have both.
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The cup of life is not so shallow That we have drained the best That all the wine at once we swallow And lees make all the rest.
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It costs a beautiful person no exertion to paint her image on our eyes; yet how splendid is that benefit! It costs no more for a wise soul to convey his quality to other men.
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I think no virtue goes with size; The reason of all cowardice Is, that men are overgrown, And, to be valiant, must come down To the titmouse dimension.
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The soul is subject to dollars.
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Nor sequent centuries could hit Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
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Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of emperors ridiculous.
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The Indian who was laid under a curse, that the wind should not blow on him, nor water flow to him, nor fire burn him, is a type of us all. The dearest events are summer-rain, and we the Para coats that shed every drop. Nothing is left us now but death. We look to that with a grim satisfaction, saying, there at least is reality that will not dodge us.
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The profit of books is according to the sensibility of the reader. The profoundest thought or passion sleeps as in a mine until an equal mind and heart finds and publishes it.
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Too busy with the crowded hour to fear to live or die.
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United States! the ages plead, - Present and Past in under-song, - Go put your creed into your deed, Nor speak with double tongue.
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I do then with my friends as I do with my books. I would have them where I can find them, but I seldom use them.