OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Painted Veil/Chapter 30

xxx
SUDDENLY her bearers, long silent, began to speak and one of them, turning round, with words she could not understand and with a gesture, sought to attract her attention. She looked in the direction he pointed and there, on the top of a hill, saw an archway; she knew by now that it was a ​memorial in compliment of a fortunate scholar or a virtuous widow, she had passed many of them since they left the river; but this one, silhouetted against the westering sun, was more fantastic and beautiful than any she had seen. Yet, she knew not why, it made her uneasy; it had a significance which she felt but could not put into words: Was it a menace that she vaguely discerned or was it derision? She was passing a grove of bamboos and they leaned over the causeway strangely as if they would detain her; though the summer evening was windless their narrow green leaves shivered a little. It gave her the sensation that some one hidden among them was watching her as she passed. Now they came to the foot of the hill and the rice-fields ceased. The bearers took it with a swinging stride. The hill was covered close with little green mounds, close, close to one another, so that the ground was ribbed like the sea-sand when the tide has gone out; and this she knew too, for she had passed just such a spot as they approached each populous city and left it. It was the graveyard. Now she knew why the bearers had called her attention to the archway that stood on the crest of the hill: they had reached the end of their journey.
They passed through the archway and the chair-bearers paused to change the pole from shoulder to shoulder. One of them wiped his sweating face with a dirty rag. The causeway wound down. There were bedraggled houses on each side. Now the night was falling. But the bearers on a sudden broke into excited talk and with a jump that shook ​her ranged themselves as near as they could to the wall. In a moment she knew what had startled them, for as they stood there, chattering to one another, four peasants passed, quick and silent, bearing a new coffin, unpainted, and its fresh wood gleamed white in the approaching darkness. Kitty felt her heart beat in terror against her ribs. The coffin passed, but the bearers stood still; it seemed as though they could not summon up the will to go on. But there was a shout from behind and they started. They did not speak now.
They walked for a few minutes longer and then turned sharply into an open gateway. The chair was set down. She had arrived.
# The Painted Veil/Chapter 36

xxxvi
WHEN Waddington left her Kitty thought over what he had so carelessly. said. It hadn’t been very pleasant to hear and she had had to make something of an effort not to show how much it touched her. It was bitter to think that ​all he said was true. She knew that Charlie was stupid and vain, hungry for flattery, and she remembered the complacency with which he had told her little stories to prove his cleverness. He was proud of a low cunning. How worthless must she be if she had given her heart so passionately to such a man because—because he had nice eyes and a good figure! She wished to despise him, because so long as she only hated him she knew that she was very near loving him. The way he had treated her should have opened her eyes. Walter had always held him in contempt. Oh, if she could only get him out of her mind altogether! And had his wife chaffed him about her obvious infatuation for him? Dorothy would have liked to make a friend of her, but that she found her second-rate. Kitty smiled a little: how indignant her mother would be to know that her daughter was considered that!
But at night she dreamt of him again. She felt his arms pressing her close and the hot passion of his kisses on her lips. What did it matter if he was fat and forty? She laughed with soft affection because he minded so much; she loved him all the more for his childlike vanity and she could be sorry for him and comfort him. When she awoke tears were streaming from her eyes.
She did not know why it seemed to her so tragic to cry in her sleep.
# The Paradise/Volume 1/Book 1/The Paradise of Palladius/The Histories of the Holy Men/History 44

​Chapter XLIV: Of The Blessed Woman Candida
AND after the manner of the blessed woman Candida, the daughter of the blessed man Trajan, the general, also laboured, and she arrived at the perfection of ascetic excellence; and she offered unto the Bishops, who were the ministers of the Mysteries of Christ, the homage which was meet for them, and she provided suitably for the performance of all the service of the church, and supplied the clergy with gifts, unto each man according to his grade. She converted her daughter and placed her in the ranks of the virgins, and she offered unto God this gift of the fruit of her womb, and sent [her] before her, and finally she herself also became like unto her daughter in the chastity of her purity, and she distributed her wealth among the poor and needy. And I know that night after night this brave woman used to rise up [from her bed] and grind corn, and heat the oven, and make bread for the Offering, and bake it with her own hands, and she was wont to say that she did this in order to reduce the strength of her body, for, she added, “Because I am unable to receive any benefit from fasting I have taken upon myself this labour for watching, so that I may do away with the greedy appetite of Esau.” Now she separated herself from every kind [of meat] where there is blood, fish alone excepted, and she made use of oil and vegetables, but these only on festival days; and on all other days she used to live on dry bread dipped in vinegar, and it sufficed her. And she awaited with hope the Resurrection which was to be full of happiness, in return for these stern labours, and she hoped to enjoy the everlasting delights which God hath prepared for those who love Him.
# The Paradise/Volume 1/Book 1/The Paradise of Palladius/The Histories of the Holy Men/History 47

​Chapter XLVII: Of Heronion And His Wife [Bosphoria]
IN Ancyra, a city of Galatia, I met a man whose name was Heronion, an “Apakomots,” and an enlightened man, and his wife whose name was Bosphoria (or Dosphoria), and of their mode of living and acts I experienced an example. Now these folk had such a firm hope in the happiness (or good things) which were to come, that they neglected even their children, for they awaited with hope the actual [fulfilment] of the things to come, and they distributed among the poor and needy the income which they derived from their villages, notwithstanding the fact that they had four male and two female children. To these [children] they never gave anything whatsoever, except to the daughters who had married husbands. ​And finally, they used to say, “After we are dead everything will be yours, but during our lifetime the income which we derive from our villages we shall take for ourselves.” Now they used to divide their moneys among the churches and monasteries, and houses for the receiving of strangers (or hospitals?) and among the poor and needy. And besides these things they performed the following act of excellence. There was a great famine, and every man shut up (or restrained) his mercy, but these folk opened the storehouses which they had in their villages, and gave [food] to eat to those who were famished, and through this act the heretics who were living in that country were changed and were turned unto the [true] knowledge when they saw their unspeakable lovingkindness; and they gave praise unto God for the simplicity of their faith. And other examples of their excellence were the following: The modest garb, common and simple apparel, food eaten but rarely, and then only in such quantity as was sufficient [to maintain] life; and they lived meanwhile in a state of chastity which was acceptable unto God. They dwelt in the fields several days [at a time], loving a life of silent contemplation, and they fled from the tumult of cities and from the evils which are begotten of them, lest when they were living among a crowd of people something might come upon them to disturb them, and they might fall from the[ir] divine state of mind. For this reason these blessed men were doing all these excellent things, because that with the eyes of the understanding they had already looked upon the good things which had been for ever prepared for them.
# The Paradise/Volume 1/Book 1/The Paradise of Palladius/The Histories of the Holy Men/History 46

​Chapter XLVI: Of The Blessed Woman Juliana
AND again, there was a certain virgin, whose name was Juliana, in Caesarea of Cappadocia, and it was said concerning her that she was a believing woman, and a woman of understanding, and that in the time of the persecution when the writer Origen was fleeing from the heathen she received [him] and hid him [in her house] for two years; and she fed and kept him at her own expense, and made him to be satisfied and content with her ministration. Now I have found these things set down in a certain book which was in the handwriting of Origen himself, and I found this book in the possession of the excellent virgin Juliana in Caesarea who had hidden it, and who used to say that she received it from Symmachus, the expositor of the Jews. And I have not set down [in writing] the story of the excellences of these glorious women for any ordinary purpose, but that we may learn that by every means whatsoever we may, if we wish, find sundry and divers occasions for [obtaining spiritual] advantage.
# The Paradise/Volume 1/Book 1/The Paradise of Palladius/The Histories of the Holy Men/History 48

​Chapter XLVIII: Of The Blessed Woman Magna
IN this city of Ancyra there were also many other virgins who led lives of ascetic excellence, and they were two thousand, or more, in number; and they kept themselves in restraint and served God with great humility. And among them were also famous women who triumphed with glorious strenuousness in the contending of the fear of God, and of those was Magnâ, the chaste and proved wife; now I know not whether I ought to describe her as a virgin or as a widow, for this woman, owing to the pressure which was put upon her by her mother, was yoked unto a husband. But she used to make pretences to her husband in divers ways, and she avoided his embraces by urging the bodily sickness which she had on her as an excuse, and thus she was, according to what the members of her household said, preserved spotless from him. Now, after a short time the man died, and he left everything which he had unto her alone, and she exchanged the ​things of time for those which were everlasting, and she offered herself wholly to God and devoted herself unto the things which belonged unto the life which is to come; and thus she lived a life in the great chastity of the fear of God, and even the Bishops were put to shame by the sight of her. Now the rest of the building (i.e., the edifice of her spiritual excellences,) she made perfect in the furnace of the love of voluntary poverty, and whatsoever there remained unto her she gave, as it is written, gladly unto the churches, and monasteries and houses for receiving poor strangers, and unto the orphans and widows; and she abode continually in the church and served God, and awaited the hope which was to come.
# The Paradise/Volume 1/Book 1/The Paradise of Palladius/The Histories of the Holy Men/History 45

​Chapter XLV: Of The Blessed Woman Gelasia
AND Gelasia, the daughter of a man of the rank of tribune, desired earnestly to follow in the fear of God after this woman whose life and deeds were glorious, and her excellence consisted in never allowing the sun to go down upon her wrath against man, neither against her servants nor against [any] other man; and this blessed woman fled from the path of men of wrath which leadeth unto everlasting death.
# The Popular Works of Johann Gottlieb Fichte

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
4th ed. 1889, in two volumes.

## Volume 1

* Memoir of Johann Gottlieb Fichte
* The Vocation of the Scholar
* On the Nature of the Scholar
* The Vocation of Man

## Volume 2

* Characteristics of the Present Age
* The Way towards the Blessed Life
* Outlines of the Doctrine of Knowledge
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Pilgrims and the Peas (Wolcot)

A brace of sinners, for no good, Were order'd to the Virgin Mary's shrine, Who at Loretto dwelt in wax, stone, wood, And in a curl'd white wig look'd wondrous fine.
Fifty long miles had these sad rogues to travel, With something in their shoes much worse than gravel: In short, their toes so gentle to amuse, The priest had order'd peas into their shoes: A nostrum famous in old popish times For purifying souls deep sunk in crimes: A sort of apostolic salt, That popish parsons for its powers exalt, For keeping souls of sinners sweet, Just as our kitchen salt keeps meat.
The knaves set off on the same day, Peas in their shoes, to go and pray; But very different was their speed, I wot: One of the sinners gallop'd on, Light as a bullet from a gun; The other limp'd as if he had been shot.
One saw the Virgin, soon—peccavi cried— Had his soul whitewash'd all so clever; When home again he nimbly hied, Made fit with saints above to live for ever.
In coming back, however, let me say, He met his brother rogue about halfway— Hobbling with outstretch'd hands and bending knees, Cursing the souls and bodies of the peas: His eyes in tears, his cheeks and brows in sweat, Deep sympathizing with his groaning feet.
"How now!" the light-toed whitewash'd pilgrim broke, "You lazy lubber!" "You see it!" cried the other, "'tis no joke; My feet, once hard as any rock, Are now as soft as blubber.
"But, brother sinner, do explain How 'tis that you are not in pain— What power hath work'd a wonder for your toes— Whilst I, just like a snail, am crawling, Now groaning, now on saints devoutly bawling, Whilst not a rascal comes to ease my woes?
"How is't that you can like a greyhound go, Merry as if nought had happen'd, burn ye?" "Why," cried the other, grinning, "you must know, That just before I ventured on my journey, To walk a little more at ease, I took the liberty to boil my peas!"
# The Pilgrims' March/The Pilgrim-Band

THE PILGRIM-BAND.
(1)
Rushing through the reeds on the river-bank; I hear their Song in the surge Of the Sindhu, Ever-flowing, Ever-full:— India the First-born,— India the Ancient,— India is fettered; To live is to cast away fear and be Free.
(2)
Afraid of the Light? Will ye still be sheltered in weakness Dreaming away your powers in passion and pride, While a Procession of the pure who are strong. And the brave who are meek, Moves on to the music of love a-singing:— “India the First-born, soon shall be Free.”
(3)
In this thraldom or that strife? Behold the Pilgrim-Band! In the Procession are some who stood apart Shunning the crowds' applause,— And Soldiers of Freedom, Proclaimers of the Faith. In India the Ancient, India the Free.
(4)
Of Holy Hindusthan,— And silent worshippers Of Her sacred Name,— And servants of the Truth that slays,— Sing at this hour As the storm is blowing:— “India the First-born, soon shall be Free,”
(5)
Of the Day when she nourished the Nations; Their song is swift with the message of the Sindhu: “To live is to cast away fear and be Free,” Comrades! our comfort-houses are prisons; 'Tis time to go forward; else we go down; Comrades! let's have courage and find the
Charter of Freedom In the Defeat of the day.
(6)
And the Sages and their Songs? And the Days of India's glory. When Krishna the Saviour worshipped village-folk With music and the fadeless flower of love? Can India's History speak to our hearts And we yet hesitate to join the ranks of Her Pilgrims Whom the world calls the Vanquished?
(7)
For Her sons give worship to power and pride. Comrades! the Procession calls us. Let us out with our harps and our songs. And tune the music of old for the healing of the new. Let us salute the Sages and Heroes, And sing with the Pilgrims and the Winds and the Sindhu:— “To live is to cast away fear and be Free.”
T. LVASWANI.
# The Pilgrims (Stedman)

"O pilgrim from the Indies!"
* Edmund Clarence Stedman (1897), "The Pilgrims" in Poems, now first collected.
* Edmund Clarence Stedman (1908), "The Pilgrims" in The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman.
# The Ramayana/Book II/Canto XCV: Mandákiní

Then Ráma, like the lotus eyed, Descended from the mountain side, And to the Maithil lady showed The lovely stream that softly flowed. And thus Ayodhyá's lord addressed His bride, of dames the loveliest, Child of Videha's king, her face Bright with the fair moon's tender grace: 'How sweetly glides, O darling, look, Mandákiní's delightful brook, Adorned with islets, blossoms gay, And s'arases and swans at play! The trees with which her banks are lined Show flowers and fruit of every kind: The match in radiant sheen is she Of King Kuvera's Nalini. My heart exults with pleasure new The shelving hand and ford to view, Where gathering herds of thirsty deer Disturb the wave that ran so clear. Now look, those holy hermits mark In skins of deer and coats of bark; With twisted coils of matted hair, The reverend men are bathing there, And as they lift their arms on high The Lord of Day they glorify: These best of saints, my large-eyed spouse, Are constant to their sacred vows. The mountain dances while the trees Bend their proud summits to the breeze, And scatter many a flower and bud From branches that o'erhang the flood. There flows the stream like lucid pearl, Round islets here the currents whirl, And perfect saints from middle air Are flocking to the waters there. See, there lie flowers in many a heap From boughs the whistling breezes sweep, And others wafted by the gale Down the swift current dance and sail. Now see that pair of wild-fowl rise, Exulting with their joyful cries: Hark, darling, wafted from afar How soft their pleasant voices are. To gaze on Churakuta's hill, To look upon this lovely rill, To bend mine eyes on thee, dear wife, Is sweeter than my city life. Come, bathe we in the pleasant rill Whose dancing waves are never still, Stirred by those beings pure from sin, The sanctities who bathe therein: Come, dearest, to the stream descend, Approach her as a darling friend, And dip thee in the silver flood Which lotuses and lilies stud. Let this fair hill Ayodhya seem, Its silvan things her people deem, And let these waters as they flow Our own beloved Sarju show. How blest, mine own dear love, am I; Thou, fond and true, art ever nigh, And duteous, faithful Lakshman stays Beside me, and my word obeys. Here every day I bathe me thrice, Fruit, honey, roots for food suffice, And ne'er my thoughts with longing stray To distant home or royal sway. For who this charming brook can see Where herds of roedeer wander free, And on the flowery-wooded brink Apes, elephants, and lions drink,  Nor feel all sorrow fly?' Thus eloquently spoke the pride Of Raghu's children to his bride, And wandered happy by her side Where Chitrakuta azure-dyed  Uprears his peaks on high.
# The Ramayana/Book II/Canto XCIX: Bharat's Approach

Soon as the warriors took their rest Obeying Bharat's high behest, Thus Bharat to Satrughna spake: 'A band of soldiers with thee take, And with these hunters o'er and o'er The thickets of the wood explore. With bow, sword, arrows in their hands Let Guba with his kindred bands Within this grove remaining trace The children of Kakutstha's race. And I meanwhile on foot will through This neighbouring wood my way pursue, With elders and the twice-born men, And every lord and citizen. There is, I feel, no rest for me Till Rama's face again I see, Lakshman, in arms and glory great, And Sita born to happy fate: No rest, until his cheek as bright As the fair moon rejoice my sight, No rest until I see the eye With which the lotus petals vie; Till on my head those dear feet rest With signs of royal rank impressed; None, till my kingly brother gain His old hereditary reign, Till o'er his limbs and noble head The consecrating drops be shed. How blest is Janak's daughter, true To every wifely duty, who Cleaves faithful to her husband's side Whose realm is girt by Ocean's tide! This mountain too above the rest E'en as the King of Hills is blest,-- Whose shades Kakutstha's scion hold As Nandan charms the Lord of Gold. Yea, happy is this tangled grove Where savage beasts unnumbered rove, Where, glory of the Warrior race, King Rama finds a dwelling-place.'  Thus Bharat, strong-armed hero spake, And walked within the pathless brake. O'er plains where gay trees bloomed he went, Through boughs in tangled net-work bent, And then from Rama's cot appeared The banner which the flame upreared. And Bharat joyed with every friend To mark those smokv wreaths ascend: 'Here Rama dwells,' he thought; 'at last The ocean of our toil is passed.'  Then sure that Rama's hermit cot  Was on the mountain's side  He stayed his army on the spot,  And on with Guha hied.
# The Ramayana/Book II/Canto XI: The Queen's Demand

To him enthralled by love, and blind,
Pierced by his darts who shake the mind, Kaikeyi with remorseless breast
Her grand purpose thus expressed: "O King, no insult or neglect Have I endured, or disrespect. One wish I have, and faith would soe That longing granted, laid, by thee. Now pledge thy word if thou incline
To listen to this prayer of mine, Then I with confidence will speak, And thou shalt hear the boon I seek.'
Ere she had ceased, the monarch fell, A victim to the lady's spell, And to the deadly snare she set Sprang, like a roebuck to the net. Her lover raised her drooping head, Smiled, playing with her hair, and said: 'Hast thou not learnt, wild dame, till now That there is none so dear as thou' To me thy loving husband, save My Rama bravest of the brave! By him my race's high-souled heir, By him whom none can match, I swear, Now speak the wish that on thee weighs: By him whose right is length of days, Whom if my fond paternal eye Saw not one hour I needs must die,-- I swear by Rama myd ear son, Speak, and thy bidding shall be done. Speak, darling; if thou choose, request To have the heart from out my breast; Regard my words, sweet love, and name The wish thy mind thinks fit to frame. Nor let shy soul give way to doubt: My power should drive suspicion out. Yea, by my merits won I swear, Speak, darling, I will grant thy prayer,'
The queen, ambitious, overjoyed To see him by her plot decoyed. More eager still her aims to reach, Spoke her abominable speech: 'A boon thou grantest, nothing loth, And swearest with repeated oath. Now let the thirty Gods and three My witnesses, with Indra, be. Let sun and moon and planets hear, Heaven, quarters, day and night, give ear. The mighty world, the earth outspread, With birds of heaven and demons regard; The ghosts that walk in midnight shade, And household Gods, our present aid, A every being great and small To hear and mark the oath I call.'
When this the archer king was bound, With treacherous arts and oaths unwound, She to her beauteous lord subdued, By blinding love, her speech renewed: 'Rememer, King, that long-past day Of Gods' and demons' battle fray. And how thy foe in doubtful strife Had nigh bereft thee of thy life. Remember, it was only I Preserved thee when about to die, And thou for watchful love and care Wouldst grant my first aud second prayer. Those offered boons, pledged with thee then, I now demand, O King of men,
Of thee, O Monarch, good and just, Whose righteous soul observes each trust. If thou refuse thy promise sworn, I die, despised, before the morn. These rites in Ráma's name begun Transfer them, and enthrone my son. The time is come to claim at last The double boon of days long-past, When Gods and demons met in fight. And thou wouldst fain my care requite. Now forth to Dandak's forest drive Thy Ráma for nine years and five, And let him dwell a hermit there With deerskin coat and matted hair. Without a rival let my boy The empire of the land enjoy, And let mine eyes ere morning see Thy Ráma to the forest flee.'