The Yale Literary Magazine, 42. sējums

Pirmais vāks
Herrick & Noyes, 1877

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178. lappuse - So, naturalists observe, a flea Has smaller fleas that on him prey; And- these have smaller still to bite 'em, And so proceed ad infinitum.
122. lappuse - But it happens, on the contrary, that my strongest effort is to avoid any such arbitrary picture, and to give a faithful account of men and things as they have mirrored themselves in my mind. The mirror is doubtless defective; the outlines will sometimes be disturbed, the reflection faint or confused; but I feel as much bound to tell you as precisely as I can what that reflection is, as if I were in the witnessbox narrating my experience on oath.
127. lappuse - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 'Doubtless,' said I, 'what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore, — Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of Never — nevermore.
185. lappuse - ... or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was : and the spirit shall return unto GOD Who gave it.
68. lappuse - ... lose no manly dignity with it, but laugh their hearty great laugh out of their broad chests as nature bade them. But this man — who can make you laugh, who can make you cry, too — -never lets his reader alone, or will permit his audience repose : when you are quiet, he fancies he must rouse you, and turns over head and heels, or sidles up and whispers a nasty story. The man is a great jester, not a great humourist.
303. lappuse - What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in Reason? how infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing how expresse and admirable? in Action, how like an Angell? in apprehension, how like a God the beauty of the world, the Parragon of Animals; and yet to me, what is this Quintessence of Dust?
267. lappuse - A perfect traitor should have a face which vice can write no marks on — lips that will lie with a dimpled smile — eyes of such agate-like brightness and depth that no infamy can dull them — cheeks that will rise from a murder and not look haggard.
72. lappuse - Still why deny its use Thoughtfully taken? We're not as tabbies are: Smith, take a fresh cigar! Jones, the tobacco-jar! Here's to thee, Bacon!
174. lappuse - ... that camp, and wasted all its fire ; And he who wrought that spell ? — Ah, towering pine and stately Kentish spire, Ye have one tale to tell ! Lost is that camp ! but let its fragrant story Blend with the breath that thrills With hop-vines' incense all the pensive glory That fills the Kentish hills.
69. lappuse - The blood and spirits of Le Fever, which were waxing cold and slow within him, and were retreating to their last citadel, the heart, — rallied back, — the film forsook his eyes for a moment ; — he looked up wishfully in my uncle Toby's face, — then cast a look upon his boy ; and that ligament, fine as it was, — was never broken. "Nature instantly ebbed again, — the film returned to its place, the pulse fluttered stopped went on throbbed, stopped again moved stopped shall I go on ? No...

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