A treatise on the grammatical analysis of sentences

Voorkant
Whittaker, 1877 - 60 pagina's
 

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Pagina 51 - Philosophy The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
Pagina 51 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Pagina 51 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place.
Pagina 51 - They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung Upon the wing ; as when men wont to watch On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread, Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.
Pagina 33 - Besides, this is overlooked by rapid and superficial readers — that the best way of reading books with rapidity is to acquire that habit of severe attention to what they contain, that perpetually confines the mind to the single object it has in view. When you have read enough to have acquired the habit of reading without suffering your mind to wander, and when you can bring to bear upon your subject a great share of previous knowledge, you may then read with rapidity: before...
Pagina 17 - Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village of Grand Pre. Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas, Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding at anchor. Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous labor Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gates of the morning.
Pagina 24 - I tell you, though you, though the whole world, though an angel from heaven, were to declare the truth of it, I would not believe it.
Pagina 16 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day. 6. The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea.

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