The Secret Life: Being the Book of a Heretic

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J. Lane Company, 1906 - 313 ˹
 

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˹ 146 - I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil : and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: the play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
˹ 183 - WHAT a monstrous spectre is this man, the disease of the agglutinated dust, lifting alternate feet or lying drugged with slumber ; killing, feeding, growing, bringing forth small copies of himself; grown upon with hair like grass, fitted with eyes that move and glitter in his face; a thing to set children screaming; and yet looked at nearlier, known as his fellows kno.w him, how surprising are his attributes!
˹ 154 - If we have sown unto you spiritual things, is it a great thing if we shall reap your carnal thin'gs...
˹ 141 - What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous; and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
˹ 184 - ... sitting down, amidst his momentary life, to debate of right and wrong and the attributes of the deity; rising up to do battle for an egg or die for an idea; singling out his friends and his mate with cordial affection; bringing forth in pain, rearing with long-suffering solicitude, his young.
˹ 296 - My mistress still the open road And the bright eyes of danger. Come ill or well, the cross, the crown, The rainbow or the thunder, I fling my soul and body down For God to plough them under.
˹ 89 - You are the devil's gateway: you are the unsealer of that forbidden tree: you are the first deserter of the divine law: you are she who persuaded him whom the devil was not valiant enough to attack. You destroyed so easily God's image, man. On account of your desert - that is, death - even the Son of God had to die.
˹ 310 - O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, which killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings, and ye would not...
˹ 146 - I'll tent him to the quick : if he but blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil : and the devil hath power T
˹ 296 - ENVOY Go, little book, and wish to all Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall, A bin of wine, a spice of wit, A house with lawns enclosing it, A living river by the door, A nightingale in the sycamore!

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