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Page 196 - So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair ; And a voice said in mastery while I strove, 'Guess now who holds thee ?' — 'Death !' I said. But there, The silver answer rang: 'Not Death, but Love.
Page 147 - I write nothing, a'nd probably shall write no more. It offends me to see my name classed among those who have no name. If I cannot be something better, I had rather be nothing, and the accursed cause, to the downfall of which I dedicate what powers I may have had, flourishes like a cedar and covers England with its boughs.
Page 151 - Space wondered less at the swift and fair creations of God when he grew weary of vacancy, than I at this spirit of an angel in the mortal paradise of a decaying body.
Page 194 - Through being a woman. And, for all the rest, Take thanks for justice. I would rather dance At fairs on tight-rope, till the babies dropped Their gingerbread for joy, — than shift the types For tolerable verse, intolerable To men who act and suffer. Better far, Pursue a frivolous trade by serious means, Than a sublime art frivolously.
Page 196 - I LIVED with visions for my company Instead of men and women, years ago, And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know A sweeter music than they played to me.
Page 152 - B., without degrading me. I think you know Moore. Pray assure him that I have not the smallest influence over Lord Byron, in this particular, and if I had, I certainly should employ it to eradicate from his great mind the delusions of Christianity, which, in spite of his reason, seem perpetually to recur, and to lay in ambush for the hours of sickness and distress.
Page 148 - He lives in considerable splendour, but within his income which is now about £4000 a-year; £100 of which he devotes to purposes of charity. He has had mischievous passions, but these he seems to have subdued, and he is becoming what he should be, a virtuous man.
Page 150 - The demon of mistrust and pride lurks between two persons in our situation, poisoning the freedom of our intercourse. This is a tax and a heavy one, which we must pay for being human.
Page 351 - There is a glorious city in the sea; The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed Clings to the marble of her palaces. No track of men, no footsteps to and fro, Lead to her gates ! The path lies o'er the sea, Invisible : and from the land we went, As to a floating city — steering in, And gliding up her streets, as in a dream...