Results 10 of 13
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[ KNOWLEDGE]
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| ... choose for company that roguish and cheerful vice, politeness. And to remain master of one's four virtues, courage, insight, sympathy, and solitude. For solitude is a virtue with us, as a sublime bent and bias to purity, which divines that in the contact of man and man--in society"-- ... |
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[ FRENCH FICTION]
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| ... I have no friends, madam.Your relatives--I have no longer any relatives.I pity you, then, Mr Fogg, for solitude is a sad thing, with no heart to which to confide your griefs. They say, though, that misery itself, shared by two sympathetic souls may be borne with patience. ` ... |
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[ MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS]
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| ... best thing, the only important thing about a woman, a man, a baby, or any other human being, is the intellect. Affection is a beautiful thing, but affection is BORN in the brain and CONFINED to the brain. A young woman looks at a splendid creature in a soldier's uniform. ... |
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[ FRENCH ESSAYS]
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| ... so much love noise and stir; hence it comes that the prison is so horrible a punishment; hence it comes that the pleasure of solitude is a thing incomprehensible. And it is, in fact, the greatest source of happiness in the condition of kings that men try incessantly to divert ... |
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[ ENGLISH FICTION]
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| ... some difficulty in understanding it. I should have thought that only a sub-human intelligence could have failed to grasp the point, but if it really needs amplification I shall consent to see you at the hour named, though visits and visitors of every sort are exceeding distasteful to me. ... |
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[ ENGLISH FICTION]
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| ... be too early impressed upon every girl that this condition of mental mal-aise, whatever be its origin, is neither a poetical nor a beautiful thing, but a mere disease, and as such ought to be combated and medicined with all remedies in her power, practical, corporeal, and spiritual. For ... |
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[ FICTION]
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| ... vain for baling wire. "Sometimes I show yoh what is like the Spanish lov''. Like stars, like fire--sometimes I seeng the jota for you that tell how moch I lov'' yoh. ''Te quiero, Baturra, te quiero,''" he began humming softly while he looked at her with eyes that ... |
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[ FICTION]
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| ... How I wish I knew! It must be something grand! It can't be a butterfly! It's away too big. Oh, I wish there was someone to tell me what it is!" He climbed on the locust post, and balancing himself with the wire, held a finger in the line of ... |
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[ ESSAYS]
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| ... to whom civilization has given little but its reaction, its rebound, its chips, its refuse, its shavings, sawdust and waste, its failures; to them solitude is a right foregone or a luxury unattained; a right foregone, we may name it, in the case of the nearly savage, and a luxury ... |
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[ FRENCH FICTION]
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| ... Cardinals de La Balue, Duprat, Lorraine, Mazarin? Where was the fatherland of Attila and of a hundred heroes of this type? I would like someone to tell me which was Abraham's fatherland. The first man to write that the fatherland is wherever one feels comfortable was, I believe, Euripides in ... |
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[ ENGLISH FICTION]
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| ...
He acknowledges that there is no cause which he can state
openly.&cdq;
&odq;And I am to bear it? And it is you that tell me so? Oh, Frank!&cdq; &odq;Let us understand each other, Lizzie. I will not fight him—that is, with pistols; ... |




