The Life of Goethe, 第 1-2 卷

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F. A. Brockhaus, 1864
 

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第 308 頁 - Merciful heaven! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.
第 92 頁 - Geheimnisvoll am lichten Tag, Läßt sich Natur des Schleiers nicht berauben, Und was sie deinem Geist nicht offenbaren mag, Das zwingst du ihr nicht ab mit Hebeln und mit Schrauben.
第 199 頁 - To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates...
第 231 頁 - There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
第 58 頁 - I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
第 233 頁 - How am I glutted with conceit of this ! Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please ? Resolve me of all ambiguities ? Perform what desperate enterprise I will? I'll have them fly to India for gold, i Ransack the ocean for orient pearl, And search all corners of the new-found world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates.
第 47 頁 - Willst du genau erfahren was sich ziemt, So frage nur bei edlen Frauen an.
第 285 頁 - He fought his doubts and gathered strength, He would not make his judgment blind, He faced the spectres of the mind And laid them ; thus he came at length To find a stronger faith his own.
第 231 頁 - The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by naturai piety.' [THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
第 327 頁 - With a five-and-twenty years' experience since those happy days of which I write, and an acquaintance with an immense variety of human kind, I think I have never seen a society more simple, charitable, courteous, gentlemanlike than that of the dear little Saxon city, where the good Schiller and the great Goethe lived and lie buried.

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