An Enquiry Into the Principles of Human Happiness and Human Duty: In Two Books

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W. Pickering, 1843 - 554 lappuses

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197. lappuse - Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o
416. lappuse - It is true, that a little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion. For while the mind of man looketh upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no further; but when it beholdeth the chain of them, confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity.
243. lappuse - And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound — A tone of music, — summer's eve — or spring, A flower — the wind — the Ocean — which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXIV.
478. lappuse - the doing good to mankind, in obedience to the will of God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness.
68. lappuse - Young men, in the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than they can hold ; stir more than they can quiet ; fly to the end, without consideration of the means and degrees ; pursue some few principles which they have chanced upon absurdly...
67. lappuse - Would he were fatter! but I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men; he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music...
109. lappuse - Twere now to be most happy ; for, I fear, My soul hath her content so absolute, That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.
111. lappuse - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
119. lappuse - O, beware, my lord, of jealousy ; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on...
254. lappuse - But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?

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