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In heaven the trees of life ambrosial fruitage bear, and vines yield nectar.
In his east the glorious lamp was seen, regent of the day; and all the horizon round, invested with bright rays.
In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread,
Till thou return unto the ground; for thou
Out of the ground wast taken; know thy birth,
For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return.
In their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shone,
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude serene and pure.
In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.
Indued with sanctity of reason.
Ink is the blood of the printing-press.
It is not hard for any man who hath a Bible in his hand to borrow good words and holy sayings in abundance; but to make them his own is a work of grace only from above.
Jealousy is the injured lover's hell.
Keep together here, lest, running thither,
W unawares run into danger's mouth.
Laughter holding both his sides.
Laws can discover sin, but not remove it.
Let gorgeous Tragedy, in sceptred pall, come sweeping by.
Let no man seek
Henceforth to be foretold that shall befall
Him or his children.
Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve the faith they own; when earnestly they seek such proof, conclude they then begin to fail.
"Let there be light!" said God; and forthwith light
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure,
Sprung from the deep; and, from her native east,
To journey through the aery gloom began,
Spher'd in a radiant cloud.
Let us no more contend, nor blame
Each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive
In offices of love, how we may lighten
Each other's burden, in our share of woe.
Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls his watery labyrinth, which whoso drinks forgets both joy and grief.
Lifted up so high I disdained subjection, and thought one step higher would set me highest.
Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good.
Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end.
Lust--hard by hate.
Many a man lives a burden upon the earth; but a good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose for a life beyond life.
Wise men have said, are wearisome; who reads
Incessantly, and to his reading brings not
A spirit and judgment equal or superior,
Uncertain and unsettled still remains--
Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself.
Meanwhile the adversary of God and man,
Satan, with thoughts inflam'd of highest design,
Puts on swift wings, and towards the gates of Hell
Explores his solitary flight; sometimes the left:
He scours the right hand coast, sometimes the left:
Now shaves with level wing the deep; then soars
Up to the fiery concave, tow'ring high.
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