The Truths We Live by

Front Cover
D. Appleton, 1921 - Ethics - 307 pages
 

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 63 - I saw eternity the other night Like a great ring of pure and endless light, All calm as it was bright; And round beneath it, time in hours, days, years, Driv'n by the spheres, Like a vast shadow moved, in which the world And all her train were hurled...
Page 194 - But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Checker-board of Nights and Days ; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
Page 76 - Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits — and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
Page 64 - Within himself, from more to more; Or, crown'd with attributes of woe Like glories, move his course, and show That life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom To shape and use.
Page 61 - All Nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good: And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.
Page 157 - To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it, To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it, To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you...
Page 153 - Groans and convulsions, and a discoloured face, and friends weeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible. It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man so weak, but it mates, and masters, the fear of death...
Page 72 - So careful of the type?' but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, 'A thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go. Thou makest thine appeal to me: I bring to life, I bring to death: The spirit does but mean the breath: I know no more.
Page 125 - MAY I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence : live In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn For miserable aims that end with self. In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, And with their mild persistence urge man's search To vaster issues.
Page 61 - Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise. But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise. We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps. What seem to us but sad funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.

Bibliographic information