English Composition, Volume 1

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American Book Company, 1911 - English language
 

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Page 16 - I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; " Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
Page 133 - Half-way up the stairs it stands,. And points and beckons with its hands From its case of massive oak, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, Crosses himself, and sighs alas ! With sorrowful voice to all who pass, — " Forever — never ! Never — Forever...
Page 101 - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
Page 261 - I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving: To reach the port of heaven, we must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it, — but we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor.
Page 131 - Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of, forgotten lore, — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. '"Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door: Only this and nothing more.
Page 131 - On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short, square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard.
Page 62 - As he was following the ewes great with young ones, he took him, that he might feed Jacob his people, and Israel his inheritance. 73 So he fed them with a faithful and true heart, and ruled them prudently with all his power.
Page 131 - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Page 34 - Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to people choked between walls and curtains, is only a light and living slumber to the man who sleeps afield.
Page 138 - Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; And sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke ; But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause : What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts^ And men have lost their reason.

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