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What greater misfortune can engulf a person who is both an ambitious soldier and an affectionate son, than to lose such a chance of glory and promotion as only occurs once within the lifetime, and an affectionate and venerable father upon the same day?
Frenhofer will tamper with the electric lights in the kitchen premises and I shall arrive in response to his telephonic message, in the clothes of a working-man and with a bag of tools. Then he smuggles me on to the spiral stairway which leads out on to the roof where the flag-staff is. I can crawl the rest of the way to my place.
My curiosity is excited everywhere, and my interest awakened, but my warm love of the beautiful feels itself in no way attracted. My intellect might strain to penetrate the secrets of your sages, but my heart and mind can never be at home in a creed which views life as a short pilgrimage to the grave, and death as the only true life!"
A poet has said that life is the dream of a shadow: he would better have compared it to a night of fever! What alternate fits of restlessness and sleep! what discomfort! what sudden starts! what ever-returning thirst! what a chaos of mournful and confused fancies! We can neither sleep nor wake; we seek in vain for repose, and we stop short on the brink of action.
Back to the Magic Picture they trooped, but when they wished to see Ozma, wherever she might be hidden, only a round black spot appeared in the center of the canvas. "I don't see how that can be Ozma!" said Dorothy, much puzzled. "It seems to be the best the Magic Picture can do, however," said the Wizard, no less surprised.
It was a delicious day, such a day as the month of flowers alone can bring into the world, and all nature seemed to be rejoicing.
Yet there is a continual richness in his harmonic texture. I can think of no other composer, save Wagner, whose chord-progressions are so full and opulent in colour. His tonal web is always densely woven he avoids "thinness" as he avoids the banal phrase and the futile decoration.
"I think Edith has found out a great secret very early in her life," Miss Simms answered. "I wish I knew it, then; I'm always being scolded, and I try to be as good as the other fellows. But it isn't of any use, that I can see. To-day I had been perfect all day in school, you know, Miss Simms, and just a minute before recess, I spoke; and Miss Clark was mean enough to make me stay in.
Now she crawled nearer him, staring at his face with wonder-widened eyes. "Do ye mean, Lemmy, that ye love yer pretty boy brat well enough to want him on the scow, and that he can eat all he wants?" "That's what I mean," grunted Lem. "And that ye mean me to tell him what ye says, Lemmy, and that ye want me to bring him back?" "Yep."
Sir Timothy Beeswax had indeed doubted, but it had come to be understood by all the members of the Coalition that Sir Timothy Beeswax always did doubt whatever was said by Sir Gregory Grogram. "The Duke thinks that something should be done," said Mr. Warburton, the Duke's private Secretary, to Phineas Finn. "Not by me, I hope," said Phineas. "Nobody else can do it.
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