Joseph Addison ( 10 of 139 )
What means this heaviness that hangs upon me?
This lethargy that creeps through all my senses?
Nature, read more
What means this heaviness that hangs upon me?
This lethargy that creeps through all my senses?
Nature, oppress'd and harrass'd out with care,
Sinks down to rest.
Let echo, too, perform her part,
Prolonging every note with art;
And in a low expiring strain,
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Let echo, too, perform her part,
Prolonging every note with art;
And in a low expiring strain,
Play all the comfort o'er again.
If men would consider not so much where they differ, as wherein they agree, there would be far less of read more
If men would consider not so much where they differ, as wherein they agree, there would be far less of uncharitableness and angry feeling in the world.
Admiration is a very short-lived passion that immediately decays upon growing familiar with its object, unless it be still fed read more
Admiration is a very short-lived passion that immediately decays upon growing familiar with its object, unless it be still fed with fresh discoveries, and kept alive by a new perpetual succession of miracles rising up to its view.
When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost,
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When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost,
In wonder, love and praise.
Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person read more
Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person whom he entirely loves
The friendships of the world are oft confederacies in vice, or leagues of pleasures.
The friendships of the world are oft confederacies in vice, or leagues of pleasures.
The honors of this world, what are they but puff, and emptiness,
and peril of falling?
The honors of this world, what are they but puff, and emptiness,
and peril of falling?
I will indulge my sorrows, and give way
To all the pangs and fury of despair.
I will indulge my sorrows, and give way
To all the pangs and fury of despair.
Is there not some chosen curse,
Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven,
Red with uncommon read more
Is there not some chosen curse,
Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven,
Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man
Who owes his greatness to his country's ruin?