Selections from the Works of Samuel Johnson

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H. Holt, 1928 - 479 pages

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Page 26 - Seven years, my lord, have now passed, since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favor. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron before.
Page 27 - The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labors, had it been early, had been kind ; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it ; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it ; till I am known, and do not want it.
Page 16 - On what foundation stands the warrior's pride? How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide; A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labours tire...
Page 23 - Ah ! let not Censure term our fate our choice, The stage but echoes back the public voice ; The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, For we that live to please, must please to live.
Page 14 - Where'er he turns, he meets a stranger's eye, His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly ; Now drops at once the pride of awful state, The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate,.
Page 21 - Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, Obedient passions and a will resign'd ; For love, which scarce collective man can fill; For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill; For faith, that, panting for a happier seat. Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat.
Page 17 - But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destin'd to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Page 33 - I am not yet so lost in lexicography as to forget that ' words are the daughters of earth, and that things are the sons of heaven.
Page 27 - Is not a Patron, My Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a Man struggling for Life in the Water and when he has reached ground encumbers him with help.
Page 26 - I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I had done all that I could, and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little.

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