Sir Thomas More, Or, Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society
"...[A] calm exposition of [Southey's] mature social and political convictions: rejection of the Catholic claims and of constitutional reform, support for high taxation to redistribute wealth, and so on. The conversations are conducted with the ghost of Sir Thomas More, whose Utopia was a remote ancestor of pantisocracy. They are set in the neighbourhood of Keswick, and the beauty of the countryside tempers the generally gloomy tone of the conversation, as does the quiet of his splendid library." -- DNB.
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Page 161 - Love had he found in huts where poor men ' lie; His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in the starry sky. The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Page 427 - My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech shall distil as the dew, as the small rain upon the tender herb, and as the showers upon the grass : Because I will publish the name of the Lord: ascribe ye greatness unto our God.
Page 174 - And they reasoned among themselves, saying, It is because we have no bread. 17 And when Jesus knew it, he saith unto them, Why reason ye, because ye have no bread ? perceive ye not yet, neither understand? have ye your heart yet hardened ? 18 Having eyes, see ye not? and having ears, hear ye not? and do ye not remember?
Page 248 - Lord, how long?' And he answered, 'Until the cities be wasted without inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the land be utterly desolate.
Page 228 - And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places : thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations ; and thou shalt be called, The repairer of the breach, The restorer of paths to dwell in.
Page 189 - Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood. Wisdom doth live with children round her knees...
Page 172 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself...
Page 113 - Father to whom all hearts are open, and from whom no secrets are hid.