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 / page 482 of 1205 /

Then, wearied by the uncertainty and difficulties with which each scheme appeared to be attended, he bent up his mind to the strong effort of shaking off his love, like dew-drops from the lion's mane, and resuming those studies and that career of life which his unrequited affection had so long and so fruitlessly interrupted. In this last resolution he endeavoured to fortify himself by every argument which pride, as well as reason, could suggest.

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We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider everything as moonshine, compared with the education of the heart.

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Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive!

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He that climbs the tall tree has won right to the fruit.

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And come he slow, or come he fast, It is but death who comes at last.

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I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me.

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The will to do, the soul to dare.

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To be always intending to live a new life, but never find time to set about it - this is as if a man should put off eating and drinking from one day to another till he be starved and destroyed.

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Too much rest is rust.

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Oh, what tangled webs we weave, When we first practice to deceive.

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But search the land of living men, Wher wilst thou find their like again.

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Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.

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Is death the last step? No, it is the final awakening.

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Credit is like a looking-glass, which when once sullied by a breath, may be wiped clear again; but if once cracked can never be repaired.

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Death -- the last sleep? No, it is the final awakening.

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Oh, the tangled webs we weave When we practice to deceive.

more quotes from Sir Walter Scott

Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive

more quotes from Sir Walter Scott

Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung.

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If you have no friends to share or rejoice in your success in life - if you cannot look back to those whom you owe gratitude, or forward to those to whom you ought to afford protection, still it is no less incumbent on you to move steadily in the path of duty; for your active excretions are due not only to society; but in humble gratitude to the Being who made you a member of it, with powers to save yourself and others.

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Ridicule often checks what is absurd, and fully as often smothers that which is noble.

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