The Essays of "George Eliot."

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Funk & Wagnalls, 1883 - 288 pages

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Page 97 - Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
Page 216 - Insatiate archer, could not one suffice ? Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain ; And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn.
Page 252 - That age or injury has hollow'd deep, Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves, He has outslept the winter, ventures forth To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun, The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play : He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird, Ascends the neighbouring beech ; there whisks his brush, And perks his ears, and stamps, and cries aloud, With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm, And anger insignificantly fierce.
Page 133 - She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love : A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be ; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Page 19 - If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence.
Page 236 - Here is firm footing ; here is solid rock ! This can support us ; all is sea besides • Sinks under us ; bestorms, and then devours. His hand the good man fastens on the skies, And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl.
Page 144 - Appeals founded on generalizations and statistics require a sympathy ready-made, a moral sentiment already in activity; but a picture of human life such as a great artist can give, surprises even the trivial and the selfish into that attention to what is apart from themselves, which may be called the raw material of moral sentiment. When Scott takes us into Luckie Mucklebackit's cottage, or tells the story of " The Two Drovers ; " when Wordsworth sings to us the reverie of
Page 234 - Dissolv'd the charm ; the disenchanted Earth Lost all her lustre. Where her glittering towers ? Her golden mountains, where? all darken'd down To naked waste ; a dreary vale of tears ; The great magician's dead...
Page 235 - Led softly ; by the stillness of the night, Led like a murderer, and such it proves ; Strays, wretched rover ! o'er the pleasing past ; In quest of wretchedness perversely stray! j £ And finds all desert now ; and meets the ghosts Of my departed joys...
Page 75 - Ay, but to die, and go," alas ! Where all have gone, and all must go ! To be the nothing that I was Ere born to life and living woe ! — Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen, Count o'er thy days from anguish free, And know, whatever thou hast been, 'Tis something better not to be.

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