Where Does the Sky Begin?

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1904 - 335 ページ
 

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249 ページ - For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.
286 ページ - And this is life eternal, that they should know thee the only true God, and him whom thou didst send, even Jesus Christ.
142 ページ - O! coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me. The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What! do I fear myself? there's none else by Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.
329 ページ - I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth nor any other creature...
258 ページ - Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast, And in a little while our lips are dumb. Let us alone. What is it that will last ? All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.
12 ページ - Whither shall I go from thy spirit ? Or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there : If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, thou art there.
86 ページ - Be not anxious for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than the food, and the body than the raiment? Behold the birds of the heaven, that they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; and your heavenly Father feedeth them.
20 ページ - Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It is as high as heaven; what canst thou do? Deeper than hell; what canst thou know? The measure thereof is longer than the earth, And broader than the sea.
326 ページ - Must we but blush? Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopylae ! What, silent still?
221 ページ - No spirit feels waste, Not a muscle is stopped in its playing nor sinew unbraced. Oh. the wild joys of living ! the leaping from rock up to rock...

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