His age was not far from fifty. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. Dare we look back upon the
darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how
many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled,
is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we
indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us
then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the
anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in
ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us
by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off
than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of
this. She is like some character out of Phra the
Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. It has been very humiliating. There was the world besides, looming
darker and larger. “He was in holy orders, and we were to have been married when he got a
living. Wood, "and I'm
sorry and surprised he hasn't swung for his crimes before this.
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This video was uploaded to incense-india.com on 04-07-2024 05:00:26