Rhetoric: Its Theory and Practice. "English Style in Public Discourse"

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C. Scribner's sons, 1895 - English language - 317 pages

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Page 294 - The awful voice of the storm howls through the rigging. The laboring masts seem straining from their base ; the dismal sound of the pumps is heard ; the ship leaps as it were madly from billow to billow ; the ocean breaks, and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating deck, and beats with deadening weight against the staggered vessel.
Page 305 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Page 291 - To this succeeded that licentiousness which entered with the Restoration, and, from infecting our religion and morals, fell to corrupt our language...
Page 248 - Besides, that it is many times as troublesome to make good the pretence of a good quality, as to have it; and if a man have it not, it is ten to one but he is discovered to want it, and then all his pains and labour to seem to have it is lost.
Page 172 - But say, what was it? Thought of fear ! Well may ye tremble when ye hear ! — A Household Tub, like one of those Which women use to wash their clothes, This carried the blind Boy.
Page 307 - In their day and generation they served and honored the country and the whole country; and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him whose honored name the gentleman himself bears — does he esteem me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism or sympathy for his sufferings than if his eyes had first opened upon the light of Massachusetts instead of South Carolina?
Page 122 - Their march,' says the author, speaking of the Greeks under Alexander, ' their march was through an uncultivated country, whose savage inhabitants fared hardly, having no other riches than a breed of lean sheep, whose flesh was rank and unsavoury, by reason of their continual feeding upon sea-fish.
Page 282 - My beloved spake, and said unto me, rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away ; for lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone : the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Page 304 - Call'd me polluted : shall I kill myself? What help in that? I cannot kill my sin, If soul be soul; nor can I kill my shame; No, nor by living can I live it down. The days will grow to weeks, the weeks to months, The months will add themselves and make the years, The years will roll into the centuries, And mine will ever be a name of scorn.

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