The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it.
She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.
We must repeat the often repeated saying, that it is unworthy a religious man to view an irreligious one either with alarm or aversion, or with any other feeling than regret and hope and brotherly commiseration.
Literary men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.
It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.
Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.