The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gent. with A Life of the Author written by Himself

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Page 299 - ... would have done it, and asked him how he did, how he had rested in the night, what was his complaint, where was his pain, and what he could do to help him ; and without giving him time to answer any one of...
Page 436 - ... trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen; the days and hours of it, more precious, my dear Jenny! than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a windy day, never to return more — every thing presses on — whilst thou art twisting that lock, — see!
Page 294 - Poor youth ! said my uncle Toby ; he has been bred up from an infant in the army, and the name of a soldier, Trim, sounded in his ears like the name of a friend : I wish I had him here. I never in the longest march, said the Corporal, had so great a mind to my dinner, as I had to cry with him for company. What could be the matter with me, an...
Page 50 - Digressions, incontestably, are the sunshine;— they are the life, the soul of reading;— take them out of this book for instance,— you might as well take the book along with them...
Page 90 - And hardly do we guess aright at things that are upon earth, And with labour do we find the things that are before us...
Page 299 - My uncle Toby went to his bureau, put his purse into his breeches pocket, and having ordered the Corporal to go early in the morning for a physician, he went to bed and fell asleep.
Page 299 - There was a frankness in my uncle Toby, not the effect of familiarity, but the cause of it, which let you at once into his soul, and showed you the goodness of his nature. To this, there was something in his looks, and voice, and manner, superadded, which eternally beckoned to the unfortunate to come and take shelter under him...
Page 293 - Nicholas; and besides, it is so cold and rainy a night, that what with the roquelaure and what with the weather, 'twill be enough to give your honour your death, and bring on your honour's torment in your groin.
Page 426 - Where slaves once more their native land behold, No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. To Be, contents his natural desire, He asks no Angel's wing, no Seraph's fire; But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.
Page 124 - May the holy cross which Christ, for our salvation triumphing over his enemies, ascended, curse him. 'May the holy and eternal Virgin Mary, mother of God, curse him. May St. Michael, the advocate of holy souls, curse him. May all the angels and archangels, principalities and powers, and all the heavenly armies, curse him.

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