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Wine and Walnuts: Or, the Gossip of Great Writers. A Book of Anecdote ...
William Alexander Clouston
No preview available - 2017
ancient appear asked Author bear beauty body Book called character cloth Coloured curious dead death doth drink earth English epigram eyes face fair father Fielding fire flowers genius give given gold hand happy hath head heart heaven hour human Illustrations kind king known lady learned leaves letter light lines live London look Lord man's manner means mind morning nature never night observed once original pass Persian person play poet poor present replied rest rich round seems sense Shakspeare sleep sneeze sometimes song soon soul speak story sweet tell thee things thou thought true truth turn whole wife wind wise woman write young
Page vi - He was the man who, of all modern and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them, not laboriously, but luckily; when he describes anything, you more than see it, you feel it too.
Page 71 - Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not.
Page 122 - How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill!
Page 132 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Page 103 - Go, lovely Rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows When I resemble her to thee How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Page 23 - Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home, Your house is on fire, your children will burn.
Page 115 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...
Page 98 - Fear not to touch the best; The truth shall be thy warrant: Go, since I needs must die, And give the world the lie. Say to the court, it glows And shines like rotten wood; Say to the church it shows What's good, and doth no good: If church and court reply, Then give them both the lie. Tell potentates, they live Acting by others...