Bentley's Miscellany, Volume 56

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Charles Dickens, William Harrison Ainsworth, Albert Smith
Richard Bentley, 1864 - Literature

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Page 139 - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
Page 431 - On the hardest adamant some foot-print of us ' is stamped in ; the last Rear of the host will read ' traces of the earliest Van. But whence? — O Heaven, ' whither ? Sense knows not ; Faith knows not ; only ' that it is through Mystery to Mystery, from God and ' to God. " We are such stuff ' As Dreams are made of, and our little Life ' la rounded with a sleep !
Page 430 - Essence is to be revealed in the Flesh. That warrior on his strong war-horse, fire flashes through his eyes; force dwells in his arm and heart: but warrior and war-horse are a vision; a revealed Force, nothing more. Stately they tread the Earth, as if it were a firm substance: fool! the Earth is but a film; it cracks in twain, and warrior and war-horse sink beyond plummet's sounding. Plummet's? Fantasy herself will not follow them. A little while ago, they were not; a little while, and they are not,...
Page 527 - Where people wish to attach, they should always be ignorant. To come with a wellinformed mind is to come with an inability of administering to the vanity of others, which a sensible person would always wish to avoid. A woman especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can.
Page 434 - The severe schools shall never laugh me out of the philosophy of Hermes, that this visible world is but a picture of the invisible, wherein as in a portrait, things are not truly, but in equivocal shapes, and as they counterfeit some real substance in that invisible fabric.
Page 520 - Ah ! where shall either victim rest ? Can this with faded pinion soar From rose to tulip as before? Or Beauty, blighted in an hour, Find joy within her broken bower ? No : gayer insects fluttering by Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die, And lovelier things have mercy shown To every failing but their own, And every woe a tear can claim Except an erring sister's shame.
Page 440 - I passed, did to my heart convey So still an image of tranquillity, So calm and still, and looked so beautiful Amid the uneasy thoughts which filled my mind, That what we feel of sorrow and despair From ruin and from change, and all the grief The passing shows of Being leave behind, Appeared an idle dream, that could not live Where meditation was. I turned away, And walked along my road in happiness.
Page 434 - ... and surely it is not a melancholy conceit to think we are all asleep in this world, and that the conceits of this life are as mere dreams to those of the next; as the phantasms of the night to the conceits of the day.
Page 18 - Or through the city take your dirty rounds, , To cheat, and dun, and lie, and visit pay ; Now flattering base, now giving secret wounds ; Or prowl in courts of law for human prey, In venal senate thieve, or rob on broad highway.
Page 534 - There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid.

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