The Works of Laurence Sterne, A. M.: A sentimental journey through France and Italy. The Koran: or, The life, character and sentiments of Tria Juncta in Uno. A political romance

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John Wyeth., 1805

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Page 378 - They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end.
Page 44 - Every one seemed desirous to know what business could have taken so old and poor a man so far a journey from his own home. It had pleased heaven...
Page 129 - I should have looked upon it now as one of the illusions of an imagination which is eternally misleading me, had not the old man, as soon as the dance ended, said that this was their constant way; and that all his life long he had made it a rule, after supper was over, to call out his family to dance and rejoice; believing, he said, that a cheerful and contented mind was the best sort of thanks to Heaven that an illiterate peasant could pay Or a learned prelate either, said I.
Page 45 - Every body who stood about, heard the poor fellow with concern La Fleur offered him money The mourner said, he did not want it it was not the value of the ass but the loss of him The ass, he said, he was assured loved him and upon this told them a long story of a mischance upon their passage over the Pyrenean mountains which had separated them from each other three days; during which time the ass had sought him as much as he had sought the ass, and that they had neither scarce eat or drank till they...
Page 80 - I heard his chains upon his legs as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle. He gave a deep sigh : I saw the iron enter into his soul. I burst into tears — I could not sustain the picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn.
Page 78 - I turned about the cage to get to the door; it was twisted and double twisted so fast with wire, there was no getting it open without pulling the cage to pieces; — I took both hands to it. The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance, and, thrusting his head through the trellis, pressed his breast against it, as if impatient. "I fear, poor creature," said I, "I cannot set thee at liberty." "No," said the starling, "I can't get out — I can't get out !
Page 79 - I was going to begin with the millions of my fellowcreatures born to no inheritance but slavery ; but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it near me, and that the multitude of sad groups...
Page 231 - Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Page 10 - The monk gave a cordial wave with his head as much as to say, No doubt there is misery enough in every corner of the world, as well as within our convent But we distinguish, said I, laying my hand upon the sleeve of his tunic, in return for his appeal we distinguish, my good father! betwixt those who wish only to eat the bread of their own labour and those who eat the bread of other people's, and have no other plan in life, but to get through it in sloth and ignorance, for the love of God.
Page 126 - Dear sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of straw, and 'tis thou who lift'st him up to HEAVEN. Eternal fountain of our feelings! 'tis here I trace thee, and this is thy "divinity which stirs within me...

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