ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: |
  A fortress face; strong and massive, and honourable in ruin Defiance of foes and (what was harder to brave) of friends Do I serve my hand? or, Do I serve my heart? Good nerve to face the scene which he is certain will be enacted Government of brain; not sufficient Insurrection of heart Had taken refuge in their opera-glasses He postponed it to the next minute and the next I hope I am not too hungry to discriminate I know nothing of imagination In Italy, a husband away, ze friend takes title Morales, madame, suit ze sun No intoxication of hot blood to cheer those who sat at home Not to be feared more than are the general race of bunglers Patience is the pestilence People who can lose themselves in a ray of fancy at any season Question with some whether idiots should live Rarely exacted obedience, and she was spontaneously obeyed The divine afflatus of enthusiasm buoyed her no longer Too weak to resist, to submit to an outrage quietly We are good friends till we quarrel again We can bear to fall; we cannot afford to draw back Who shrinks from an hour that is suspended in doubt Whole body of fanatics combined to precipitate the devotion Youth will not believe that stupidity and beauty can go together |
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