W. Gurney (William Gurney) Benham.

Cassell's book of quotations, proverbs and household words .. online

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And wrinkles, the d d democrats, wodH

flatter. St. t4.

But, as I said,
I uon^t idiOosopbise, and *ciU be read.

Oh, for Aforiv-pargon potctr to chant
Thy praise. Hypocrisy !t St, $4,

Eight and forty manors . . .
, Were their reward for following Billy's

St, 36,

This is the way physicians mend or end us,
Secmidum artem : but although we sneer
Ib heahh, when ill, we call them to attend
Without the least propensity to jeer.

St. 42,
But die was lucky, and luck's all. Your
Are generally prosperous in reigning.

Tlkat water-land of Dutchmen and of ditches.

And when I think upon a pot of beer

St, 77,
Alstf! how deeply painful is all payment !

St 79,

Km a man's family, and he may brook it,

Bsit ke^ your hands out of his hreeches

pocket! Ib,

When Bishop Berkeley^ said " there was no


And proved it — twas no matter what he

Canto 11, tt. 1,

• DisaipatioD.

t Bey. Sydney Smith used the ^hraae. '*a
tvelye-psnon power cH conversation,

X Bbhop <^ Cloyne, who wrote: "All the
efcoiT of heaven and fbmlture of earth-In a
wnrd, aJI thoae bodies which coropoee the mighty
trmoeortJic world— have not any subalstenco wlth-
Mrta mmd."— •* JMndplen of Huinsn KnowledKe."
la a Bote tiy Dr. Hawkeawtrth to Swia s lettert.

But Tom's no more — and bo no more of Tom.

St, to.
And, after all, what is a lie P 'Tis but

The truth in masquerade. St, 57.

'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery

Should let itself be snuffed out by an

article. iS^. 619.

Where are those martyred saints, the Five

per Cents.?
And where — oh, where the devil are the

Bents? St,7r,

Noughts permanent amon^ the human race.
Except the Whigs not gettmg into plaoe.

I may stand alone.
But would not change my free thoughts for

a throne. Si, 90,

Of all the barbarous middle ages, that

Which is most barbarous, is the middle age
Of man , it is— I really scarce know what ;

But when we hover oetween fool and sage.
Canto It, »t, i.
Yes ! ready money is Aladdin's lamp.

Wen, if I don't succeed, I have succeeded.

And that's enough. St. 17,

And hold up to the sun my little taper.{

St. tl.
Thou art in London — in that pleasant place,
Where every kind of mischiers daily fcew-

hig. St. tS.

But now Pm going to be immoral ; now

I mean to show things really as they are.
Not as they ought to be. SL 40.

As that abominable tittle-tattle,
Which is the cud eschewed by human cattle.

For 'tis a low, newspaper, humdrum, law-
Country. St. 66,

And if, in fact, she takes to a "grande

It IS a very serious tiling indeed. St, 77.
With fascination in his very bow. St, 84,
A finished gentleman from top to toe. Jb,
And beauteous even where beauties most

abound. Canto IS, st. t.

Of all tales 'tis the saddest— and more sad,

Because it makes us smile. || St, 9,
Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away.
St. 11,

published 1769, he rays : ** Berkeley, In the early
part of his life, wrote a dissertation against the
existence of material beinn and external oliJeets,
with such subtlety that Whiston acknowledged
himself unable to confute it."
) Thus commentators each dark passage shnn,

And hold their forth! ng candles to the sun.
5ee alio Crabbe : — Yocmo.

*' Oh rattier give me commentators plain."
jl Don Quixote.


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Cool, and quite English, imperturbable.

Don Joan. Canto 13^ tt. I4.

I hate to hunt down a tired metaphor.

The Eugliah winter— ending in July,
To recommence in August. St, 42,

And Lord Au^istus Fitz Flantogenet,
Good at all thmgs, but better at a bet.

St, 87.
Society is now one polished horde,
Formed of two mighty tribes, the Bores and
Bored, St. 95.

The earth has nothing like a she epistle.

St, 105.
And angling too, that solitary vice,
Whatever £aak Walton sings or says :
The ouaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet
Should have a hook, and a small trout to
pull it. St, 200,

Death, so called, is a thing which makes

men weep,
And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Canto 14, it. S.

In play, there are two pleasures for your

choosing —
The one is winning, and the other losing.

St, if.
Men for their sins
Have shaving too entailed upon their chins.

I for one venerate a petticoat. St. tO,

So that his horse, or charger, hunter, hack.
Knew that he had a rider on his back.

Of all the horrid, hideous sounds of woe,
Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight
Is that portentous phrase, " I told you so."

St. SO.
That Adam, called ** the happiest of men."

St. 55,
Good but rarely came from good advice.

St. 66.
'Tis strange, but true ; for truth is always

strange ;
Stranger than fiction. St. 101.

There* 8 music in the sighing of a reed ;

There's music in the gushing of a riU ;
There's music in all things, if men had ears ;
Their earth is but an echo of the spheres.

Canto 15, st. 6.

The devil hath not in all his quiver's choice
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

St. 13.

How little do we know that which we are !

How less what we may be ! The eternal
Of time and tide rolls on and bears afar

Our bubbles. St. 99.

As Juan mused on mutability,
Or on lus mistress— terms synonymous.

St. to.
Her gradouB, graceful, graceless Grace.

Canto 16, $t. 49.

Tithes, which sure are Discord's torches.

St. 60.
As nothing can confound
A wise man more than laughter ^m a
dunce. St, 88.

The love of higher things and better dap ;
The imbounded hope, and heavenly
Of what is called the world, and the world's
ways. St 108.

As he (Lord Byron) himself briefly de-
scribed it in his memoranda: '*I awoke
one morning and found myself famous."—
Moore** ♦* Life of Byron •• (referring to the
instantaneous success of '* Childe Harold,"
published 1812).

CHAS. S. CALVERLEY (1831-1884).

When the gloaming is, I never made the
gho8t of an endeavour
To discover— but whatever were the hour
it would be sweet

Fly Leaves. In the Oloamin$.

Than a trebly-bandaged mole.

Linet on hearinff the Organ,

I asked him where he lived — a stare

Was all I got in answer,
As on he trudged ; I rightly Judged

The stare said, ** Where I can, sir."


Her sheep followed her, as their tails did


{Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And this song iis considered a perfect gem,

And as to the meaning, it's what you
please. Ballad.

Life is with such all beer and skittles ;

They are not diflUcult to please
About their victuals. Contentment.

Meaning, however, is no great matter.

Lovers, and a Eejteetion,


Friendship can smooth the front of ruds

despair. BcribleriadL i, IX.

What is the worth of anything
But for the happiness 'twill bring ? *

Learning lt3.
Like for like is no gain.

Against Inconstancy.

* Su Butler, " For what is worth in anything? "


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THOlf AS CAMPBELL (1777-1M4).
Tis distance lends enchantment to the yiew.
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

Pleasures of Hope. Tiart X.

AD, all foraooik the friendless, gwlty mind.
But Hope, the charmer, ungered stUl

behind. lb.

For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her

tmile. Jb.

Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love at lasl^
Shall soothe his aching heart for all the

past. • lb.

And learn the future by the past of man. lb.

And, as the ilaTe departs, the man retuma.


•*Oh! Heaven!" he cried, "My bleeding

o oun lry save ! " lb.

Hone, for a season, bade the world farewell
And Freedom shrieked -as Kosciusko fell !

Te food adorers of departed f amep lb.

And rival all but Shakespeare's name

below. lb.

Dominions of the Sun.* lb.

And, in the march of nations, led the
▼Ml. lb.

Who hath not own*d with rapture-smitten

The power of grace, the magio of a name Y

Tbea9 be, whoie loveless wisdom never

la adf -adoring pride securely mailed. lb,

WUhofot the smile from partial beauty won.
Oh! wjiat were man?— a world without a

son. lb.

TkB world was sad ; the^^arden was a wild !
And man, the hermit, sighed—till woman

■Buled! Jb,

While memory watches o'er the sad review
Of joys that faded like the morning's dew.

item busy life's bewildered w<^.

I geidal mom appears.

Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.

And mow on Nature with a poet's eye. Jb,
Tbe idn sweet fall of musio fsr away. Jb.
Since first he called her his befors the hoW

What mxIEoM died that Onssr might be
great! Jb,

Every snhera

That gems tiiesCaiTX girdle of the year. Jb,

ItisadreadaodAwfalihmgtodie. Jb,

• IndiA,

Melt and dispel, ye spectre-doubts that roll
Cimmerian darkness on the parting soul !

One hopelees dark idolater of Ohanoe. Jb.
To night and silence sink for eyermore. Jb.

Lights of the world and demi-gods of

Fame. Jb,

Oh ! star-eyed Science, hast thou wandered

Tb waft us home the message of despair ?

Truth ever lovely — since the world began,
The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man.

But sad as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to recora, and blush to give it in ! f

Mfld be the doom of Heaven— as thou

wert mild. Jb,

Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind,
But leave, oh! leave the light of Hope

What though my wingM hours of bliss

have been.
Like angel-visits, few and far between, t J^*
Can Fancy's fairy hands no veil create
To hide the sad realities of fate f Jb.

Congenial spirits part to meet again. Jb,
But she was journeying to the land of


Oertruds of Wyoming. Tart i, »t. 19.

A soul that pity touched, but never shook.


A stoic of the woods— « man without a

tear. Jb.

Then forth uprose that lone way-faring

man. St. 97,

Those eyes, affectionate and glad,

That seemed to love whatever they looked

upon. Fart f , st. 4,

Gay lilied fields of France. St, 15.

The torrent's smoothness, ere it dash below.

Fart 5, 8t. 6,

When TransatUntio Liberty arose. St. 6,

For then
The bowstring of my spirit was not slack.

St, 14.

To whom nor relative nor blood remains,

No!— not a kindred drop that runs in

human veins. St, 17.

*Twa8 sung how they were lovely in their

And in their deaths had not divided been.

She was the rainbow to thy sight.
Thy sun— thy heaven— of lost delight.

St, 36,

t 5m Ste^l^ " Tristram Shandy.**
^ C^, Blair sQd John Norris.


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To-raorrow let iw do or die !

Gertrude of Wyoming. Part 5, $t. 57.

He bids me dry the last, the first,

The only tears that ever burst

From Outalissi's soul. St. 39,

The night, to him, that had no morrow.

0*Connor*i Child. 9.

Another's sword has laid him low,

Another* s and another *s ;

And every hand that dealt the blow —

Ah me ! it was a brother's ! 10,

Nor would I chan^ my buried love

For any heart of hving mould. 16,

Of all unheeded and unheeding. 16.

Her fingers witched the chords they passed

And her lips seemed to kiss the soul in song.


^lipsed by brighter orbs in glory's sky. Jb,

Her women fair ; her men robust for toil.
Her ^gorous souls, high-cultured aa her

soil ;
Her towns, where civic independence fiings
The gauntlet down to senates, courts, and

Kings.* Ih,

That, like Heaven's image in the smiling

Celestial peace was pictured in her look. P>,
A wildly sweet unworldliness of thought

And, when his first suspicions dimly stole,
Rebuked them back like phantoms from his

BOtll. lb.

The dignity of womankind. Jb,

That mighty truth — ^how happy are the

good. Jb,

And long she pined — for broken hearts

die slow. Jb.

Without was Nature's elemental din. lb.
It was not Strang ; for in the htmian breast
Two master passions cannot co- exist. Jb.
Se felt as if he ne'er should cease to feel
A wretch live-broken ou misfortune's

wheel Jb.

The ocean has her ebbingt — so has grief. Jb,
Words that will solace him while life

endures. Jb,

Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,
And coming events cast their shadows

before. Loohiel*s Warning.

With his back to the field, and his feet to

the foe 1
And leaving in battie no blot on his name,
Look proualy to Heaven from the death -bed

of fame ! Jb.

* Rnf Und.

There was silence deep as death ;
And the boldest held his breath —
For a time. Battle of the Baltic 9.

Ye are brothers ! ye are men!

And we conquer but to save —

So peace, instead of death, let us bring. 5.

Let us think of them that sleep,

Full many a fathom deep.

By thy wild and stormy steep,

Elsinore ! 7.

Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er th^ir

grave ! S,

Ye mariners of England !

That guard our native seas ;
Whose nag has braved a thousand yean.

The battie and the breeze !

Te Harlnert of BnglanA.

While the battle rages loud and long.

And the stormy winds do blow. 1.

Britannia needs no bulwark,

No towers along the steep.
Her march is o'er the mountain wavea,

Qer home is on the deep. 5.

The meteor fiag of England

Shall yet terrific bum ;
Till danger's troubled night depart.

And the Star of peace return. 4-

Triumphal arch, that fiU'st the sky

When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy

To teach me what thou art.

To tho BAlnbow.

And ships were drifting with the dead
To shores where all was dumb I

The Laat Van.

And Painting, mute and motionless.
Steals but a glance of time.

Btaniat to J. P. Kamble (1817).

And what the actor could effect.

The scholar could presage. Ih..

Alas, the moral brings a tear !

'Tis all a transient hour below ;
And we that would detain thee here,

Ourselves as fleetly go ! Ih,

Half our daylight faith's a fable ;
Sleep disports with shadows too. k Droam.

More compassionate than woman.

Lordly more than man. Ih,

Hast thou felt, poor self -deceiver,

Life's career so void of pain
As to wish its fitful fever

New begun again ? Ih.

There is a victory in dying well

For Freedom— 4uid ye have not died in vain.

Stanzas to Um Homery of

tlM Bpanlah Pairtota.

The patriot's food's the 1604 of Freedom'a
tree, Ih.


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Ho- tcnl baa felt the foot-prints, and bar

Bean winnowed hj the wings of Liberty.*
Btanxaa to the If amorj of
Iha Bpanlah Patriots.

Glorj to Qk&Bk that die in this great cause !


Long trains of ill may pass unheeded, dnmb.

Bat Tengeance is behmd, and jostioe is to

come. lb.

To feel the step-dame bnffetingB of fate.

Ob tlia Orava of a Bniotda.

Twas the honr when rites unholy
Called aadi Paynim voioe to prayer.

The Turkish Lady.

And dim was that eye, onoe ezpresdyely

That meUed in Ioto, and that kindled in

war. The Wonndad Hussar.

On linden, when the son was low,
AH bloodleas laj the untrodden snow,
And dark as wmter was the flow
Of laer, roUIng rapidly.


THie oomhat deepens. On, ye brave.
Who rash to glory, or tiie graye !
Ware, Munich ! all thy banners wave.
And diarge with all thy duTalry. lb.

The all-in-all of life— Content.

To a Lady ob RaealTiBtf a 8«aL

A fresh and fair old man.

The Rltter Bann.

One moment may with Uias repay
Uaniimb«ed hours of pain. Jb,

Oh, how hard it is to find
The one just suited to our mind.

Bong. **0h, hovo Bard!'^

Tbere cam* to the beaeh a poor Ezfle of
Erin. Bxila of Brin.

He aanff the bold anthem of Shxn-go-bragh.f


And the sentinel stars set their watch in
the sky. The Soldier's Dream.

Ib life's moming march, when my bosom
was yotmg. /*.

But Bocrow returned with the dawning of

And the foloe in my dreaming ear melted
away. lb,

Ods nxe of the wilderness left on its stalk
To mark where a garden had been.

Lines on Visiting Argyleshlre.

To bear is to conquer our fate. Jb,

A duQ-ejed diplomatic corpA.

Jemima* Hose and Blaanora.

• Spain.

f •• Ireland Cor

Beauty's witching sway
Is now to me a star that^ falkn — a dream
that's passed away. FarawsU to Leva

Life's joy for us a moment lingers.
And death seems in that word— farewell.
Song. <* Wtthdrmw noi y#< thou iip».*'

The spot where lore's first links were

That ne'er are riven.
Is hallowed down to earth's profound,

And up to Heaven ! Hallowed Ground.

For time makes all but true love old. Jb.
To live in hearts we leave behind

Is not to die. lb.

What can alone ennoble fight P

A noble cause I lb.

Its roof star-pictured Nature's ceiling,
Where trancing the rapt spirit's feeling,
And God Himself to man revealing.

The harmonious spheres
Make music, though unneard their pealing

By mortal ears. lb.

Soothing the home-bound navy*s peaceful

And rocking e'en the fisher's little bark
As gently as a mother rocks her child.

On the View fk^m St. Leonards.

Absence ! Is not the heart torn by it
From more than light, or life, or breath P

'Tis Lethe's gloom, but not its quiet.
The pain without the peace of death.


She, like the eagle, will renew her age4

On Poland.

Well can ye mouth fiur Freedom's classic

And talk of Constitutions o'er your wine.

But all jour rows to break the Grant's yoke
Expire m Bacchanalian song ana smoke.

Not murder masked and cloaked with hidden
knife. lb.

For body-killing tyrants cannot kill
The pulmo soul— the hereditary will^
That downward as from sire to son it goes.
By shifting bosoms more intensely grows.

Humanely glodous I Men will weep for him
When many a guilty martial lame is dim.

Lines Ib a Blaak Leaf
of La Perouss's Voyages.

Yet what is all that fires a hero's scorn
Of death P — ^the hoiM to live in hearts
unborn. 2b

With Freedom's Uon-banner
Britannia rules the. waves.

Ode to the Osrmans.

I Polaod.


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Drink ^e to her that each loves best,

And if YOU nurse a flame
That's told but to her mutual breast,

We will not ask her name.

Drink ye to Her.

Out land, the first garden of Liberty's tree-
It has been, and yet shall be, the land of the
liee. Bong of the Greeks.

Strike home, and the world shall revere us
As heroes descended from heroes. lb.

It was indeed her own true knight.


When daisies and buttercups gladdened my

Like treasures of sUver and gold.

Field Flowers.

Till toil grows cheaper than the trodden

And man competes with man, like foe with


Lines on reTisiting a Soottish River.

And in the scowl of Heaven^ each face
Qrew dark as they were speakmg.

Lord Ullln's Dan^ter.

I'll meet the raging of the skies,

But not an angry father. lb.

The waters wild went o'er his child

And he was left lamenting. Jb.

And rustic life and poverty
Grow beautiful beneath his touch.

Ode to the Memory of Bums.

With love that scorns the lapse of time.
And ties that stretch beyond the deep. lb.
Peace to the mighty dead !

Lines to Conmiemorate the Day
of Victory in Egypt.

The Scots are steadfast— not their clime.

^ The Pilgrim of Glencoe.

That like an intellectual magnet stone

Drew truth from judgment simpler than

his own. Jb,

Whilst doubts assailed him o'er and o'er

If men were made for kings, or kings for
men. Jb,

Ghost, kelpie, wraith.
And all the trumpery of vulgar faith, Jb,

The deed is just :
And if I say it must be done— it musL Jb,

Dead men tell
Ko tales. Jb,

And long petitions spoil the cause thev
plead. j(.

The lordly, lovely Bhine.

The Ghlld and the Hind.
Better be oourted and jilted
Than never be oourted at alL

The JUted Hymplu

And so she flirted, Uke a true
Gk>od woman, till we bade adieu.

Lines on my new child sweetbeait.

Yes, my soul sentimentally craves

British beer. Bplstle firom Algiers.


There is a garden in her face.
Where roses and white lilies grow.

Cherry Ripe.

There cherries grow that none can buy.
Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry. Jb.

GEORGE CANNING (1770-1887).

I called the New World into ezistenoe to
redress the balance of the Old.

The King's Message, J>ee, It^ 2&K.

Black's not so black ; nor white so very
white. Hew MoraUty.

Give me the avowed, the erect, the manly

Bold I can meet— perhaps may turn his

But of all plagues, good Heaven, thy wrath

can send.
Save, save, oh I save me from the Candid

Friend I JK

In matters of commerce, the fault of th»

Is offerinf^ too little and aaking too much.*
Despatch tn cipher to the EnglUh Ambtueador
in HoUand, January $1, 18t6.

Stonr! Gk>d bless you! I have mmm to

tell. Sir. The Friend of Hnnaiilty

mad the Knife Grinder.

i give thee sixpence! I will see theo
damned first. Jh»

No, here's to the pilot that weathered th«

storm. The Pilot.

[Rev.] JOSEPH CAPEN (19th Cent.).

Yet at the resurrection we shidl see
A fair edition, and of matchless worth,
Free from eriatas, new in heaven set forth.
Lines upon Mr. John Fostar.f

He that loves a rosy oheek,

Or a ooral lip admires.
Or from star-like eyes doth seek

Fuel to maintain his fires.
As Old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

Disdain retomod.

* Usually quoted : " Is asking too little and
taking too moch.'* The above, however, is the
original form.

t This idea is borrowed fh>m Rev. B. Wood-
bridge, ohaplaln to Charles IL (9.«.). (Set alea
ShmT frankUn's " BpiUph on Himseltl '


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I hKf learned thy arts, and now
Cm ^Ka^ni p its nmch as thou.

Dladaln rotnniAd.

Then fly
CcHmaar liove.

for only they
' ran away.

*« Conqu€9t by FUffhV

Tha pnroBt soul that e*er was sent
Into a dayey tenement.

Bpltapha. On the Lady Mary ViUien.

And here the precioufl dust is laid,
Whoee purely tempered clay was made
So fine tiiat it the guest betrayed.
Else the aonl grew so fast within.
It broke the outward shell of sin,
And so was hatched a cherubin.

On Maria Wentworih.

Good to the poor, to kindred dear,
To serrants kind, to friendship clear,
To nothing but herself serere.


ALICE CAREY (1820-1871).
For the human heart is the mirror

Of the tilings that are near and far ;
Like the waye that reflects in its bosom

The flower and the distant star.

The Time to be.

HENRY CAREY (e. 1693-1743).
Of all the girls that are so smart

There's none like pretty Sally ;
Sbe is the darling of my hearty

And she lives in our alley.
These is no lady in the land

Is half so sweet as Sally. Bally.

Of an the da3rB that's in the week,

I dearly lore but one day ;
And tbars the di^ that comes betwixt

A Satnzday and Monday. lb.

His oo^tatire faculties immersed
In eofi^bnndity of cogitation.

ChronoBhotontholo^os. Act i, 1,

I>t the flinging singers,

'With ▼ocaTTOices, most yodf erous,

In sweet rocif eration, out-yodf erise

BVb so>and itself. lb.

Go call a coach, and let a coach be called ;
Asd let the man that calls it be the caller ;
And in his callinfi^ let him nothing call,
But eoach ! coacn ! ooadi ! Oh, for a coach.
ye Gods! Aeit,4.

Ha! Bead! Impossible I It cannot be!
Vd not beliere it though himself should
swear it. lb.

Oentedin personage,
Coodnct, and equipage ;
KoUe by heritage,
OiiiMiMH end fnrr

na OoBtrlvaBMS. Mtl,i.

What a monstrous taO our cat hath got !

Dragon of Wantley. Act f , 1,

Ood saye our gracious king,
Long liye our noble king,

God saye the king. God Save the Kln^

PHOEBE CAREY (1834-1871).
But no night is so utterly cheerless
That we may not look for the dawn.

THOMAS CARLTON (19th Ceatvry).
I neyer knew a warrior yet but thee,
From wine, tobacco, debts, dice, oaths, so
free. To Capt John Smith of Virginia.

THOMAS CARLYLE (179&-1881).

The Public is an old woman. Let her
maunder and mumble. Journal (1835).

The beginning of all is to haye done
with Falsity; to eschew Falsity as Death
Eternal lb. June tS, 1870,

It is now almost my sole rule of life to
clear myself of cants and formulas, as of
poisonous Nessus shirts.

Letter to his Wife. Nov. i, 18S5.

No speech eyer uttered or utterable is
wortii comparison with silence.

Lectures (1838).

A man cannot make a pair of shoes rightly
unless he do it in a devout manner.

Letter to T. Erskine. Oct. 22,1842.

I do not hate him near as much as I fear
I ought to do.

Remark in reference to the Bishop
of Oxford. {FroudeU^' Lifer)

A spectre moying in a world of spectres.
Description of himselfi

Online LibraryW. Gurney (William Gurney) BenhamCassell's book of quotations, proverbs and household words .. → online text (page 11 of 198)