Selections From "parerga" As Found in "cedar Chips";
The book Selections From "parerga" As Found in "cedar Chips"; was written by author Sheehan, Patrick Augustine, 1852-1913 Here you can read free online of Selections From "parerga" As Found in "cedar Chips"; book, rate and share your impressions in comments. If you don't know what to write, just answer the question: Why is Selections From "parerga" As Found in "cedar Chips"; a good or bad book?
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"And teachers, — poets, preachers, prophets, with their 'everlasting yeas,' and 'everlasting noes,' lead- ing mankind by the hand up the steep escarpments where valour and truth alone can find a footing; and then suddenly descending to the basest levels to quarrel over their cups, or play the valet to some coroneted patron?" "Infinite Pity!" he still answered. Cedar Chips Thiny-scven A liatinrtint! I shook him off — this Doppelganger of mine. I was wroth with him and with myself, wroth, above a...ll, because I had to determine was this the final answer — the last response to the eternal enigma. Infinite Pity ! For all suffering and harmless things, yes ! For the redbreast frozen into iron on a January morn- ing; for the wounded creature of the woods that creeps into its hole to die unseen ; for the silver wonder of the brooks that lies gasping on the grass, held in the fierce steel of the fisherman; for my aged dog, who lies in his hutch in my yard and looks at me wnth such piteous dying eyes, they haunt me all the day long; for our human brother or sister, who calls for night, and night forgets its mercy, and who watches the faint dawn glimmering through the window-pane, with the prospect of another day of anguish ; for the wretch in the dock, with the merciless faces around him, steeled against all com- passion by merciless law ; for the victim helped to the scaffold, his arms supported by warders lest he should fall ; for the last October sunset, and the last rose that hovers in my garden over beds of snow, — for all weak things, for all stricken things, for all sad things, and all dying things, — Infinite Pity !
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