Stevenson's Shrine: The Record of a Pilgrimage

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A. Moring, 1903 - Počet stran: 58

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Strana 31 - By all means begin your folio ; even if the doctor does not give you a year, even if he hesitates about a month, make one brave push and see what can be accomplished in a week.
Strana 37 - UNDER the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be, Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
Strana 39 - I HAVE trod the upward and the downward slope; I have endured and done in days before; I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope; And I have lived and loved, and closed the door.
Strana 39 - Here — here's his place, where meteors shoot, clouds form, Lightnings are loosened, Stars come and go! let joy break with the storm — Peace let the dew send! Lofty designs must close in like effects: Loftily lying, Leave him — still loftier than the world suspects, Living and dying.
Strana 39 - Sing me a song of a lad that is gone. Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye.
Strana 53 - To the island-valley of Avilion ; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawns And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
Strana 43 - Happy (said I); I was only happy once; that was at Hyeres ; it came to an end from a variety of reasons, decline of health, change of place, increase of money, age with his stealing steps; since then, aa before then, I know not what it means.
Strana 37 - Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee. For whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, I will die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.
Strana 25 - What the years' pale hands were bearing, Years in stately, dim division. II Now the skies are pure above you, Tusitala ; Feather'd trees bow down to love you ; Perfum'd winds from shining waters Stir the sanguine-leav'd hibiscus That your kingdom's dusk-ey'd daughters Weave about their shining tresses ; Dew-fed guavas drop their viscous Honey at the sun's caresses Where eternal summer blesses Your ethereal musky highlands, — Ah ! but does your heart remember, Tusitala, Westward in our Scotch September,...
Strana 29 - ... them through the road does not matter to me one hair. It is the fact that they have attempted it, that they have volunteered and are now really trying to execute a thing that was never before heard of in Samoa. Think of it! It is roadmaking — the most fruitful cause (after taxes) of all rebellions in Samoa, a thing to which they could not be wiled with money nor driven by punishment. It does give me a sense of having done something in Samoa after all..

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