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He used to raise a storm in a teapot.
[Lat., Excitabat enim fluctus in simpulo.]
He used to raise a storm in a teapot.
[Lat., Excitabat enim fluctus in simpulo.]
But there is one thing which we are responsible for, and that is
for our sympathies, for the manner read more
But there is one thing which we are responsible for, and that is
for our sympathies, for the manner in which we regard it, and for
the tone in which we discuss it. What shall we say, then, with
regard to it? On which side shall we stand?
I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how read more
I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all.
The secrets of life are not shown except to sympathy and
likeness.
The secrets of life are not shown except to sympathy and
likeness.
As far as could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,
read more
As far as could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm,
And when the dusky sky began to rob
My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck,
A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,
And threw it toward thy land.
And the Lord said unto Moses, Stretch out thine hand toward
heaven, that there may be darkness over the read more
And the Lord said unto Moses, Stretch out thine hand toward
heaven, that there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, even
darkness which may be felt.
Lightnings, that show the vast and foamy deep,
The rending thunders, as they onward roll,
The loud read more
Lightnings, that show the vast and foamy deep,
The rending thunders, as they onward roll,
The loud winds, that o'er the billows sweep--
Shake the firm nerve, appal the bravest soul!
Roads are wet where'er one wendeth,
And with rain the thistle bendeth,
And the brook cries like read more
Roads are wet where'er one wendeth,
And with rain the thistle bendeth,
And the brook cries like a child!
Not a rainbow shines to cheer us;
Ah! the sun comes never near us,
And the heavens look dark and wile.
And out of darkness came the hands that reach thro' nature, moulding men.
And out of darkness came the hands that reach thro' nature, moulding men.