OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16
FORGIVENESS
151. The earth supporteth even those that dig into her : even so bear thou with those that traduce thee; for that is greatness.
152. Forgive thou always the injuries that others may do thee: but if thou forget them, it were even better.
153. The most shameful poverty is the refusal of hospitality: and the greatest strength is to bear with the dullness of fools.
154. If thou want to be grand always, be forgiving unto all.
155. The wise respect not the men who retaliate an injury : but they are prized as gold who forgive their enemy.
​156. The joy of revenge lasteth but a day: but the glory of him who forgiveth endureth for ever.
157. Be the wrong suffered ever so great: the better part is not to take it to heart and to abstain from revenge.
158. Conquer by thy nobility those that in their pride have injured thee.
159. More saintly than even those that have renounced are they that bear with the bitter tongue of their detractors.
160. Those that do penance by fasting are great : but they only come after those that forgive their calumniators.
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18
NON-CONVETING
171. Behold the man who leaveth the right way and coveteth another man's wealth: his wickednesses will increase and his family will decline.
172. Behold the men that turn away from evil : they covet not, neither do they yield to ignoble deeds.
173. Behold the men that care for other joys : they are not greedy after little delights, nor do they yield unto iniquity.
174. Behold the men that have mastered their senses and enlarged their vision : they covet not saying, Lo, we are in want.
175. Of what avail is a mind that is subtle and comprehending, if it yieldeth unto greed and consenteth unto insensate deeds ?
​176. Even he who hungereth after grace and walketh in the path shall perish if he hankereth after wealth and plotetth evil.
177. Covet not the wealth that greed gathereth: for its fruit is bitter in the day of enjoyment.
178. If thou desire that thy substance should not grow less, covet not the riches in thy neighbour's hands.
179. Behold the wise man that understandeth justice and coveteth not: Lakshmi knoweth his worth and seeketh him in his home.
180. The greed that looketh not beyond engendereth destruction : but the greatness that sayeth, I desire not, triumpheth over all.
# The Kural or the Maxims of Tiruvalluvar/Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2
IN PRAISE OF RAIN
11. It is by the unfailing fall of rain that the earth sustaineth itself: therefore is the rain called the immortal drink.
12. Every food that is sweet to the taste is given to man by Rain : and itself formeth also part of his food.
13. It rain should fail, famine would rage over the wide earth even though it is encircled by the ocean.
14. Husbandmen would cease to ply the plough if the fountains of the heavens are dried up.
15. It is rain that ruineth, and it is rain again that setteth up those that it hath ruined.
​16. Even grass will cease to grow if the showers from above should cease to fall.
17. Even the mighty ocean would reek with corruption if the heavens should cease to suck its waters and render them back to it.
18. Sacrifices will not be offered to the Gods nor Feasts be celebrated on earth if the heavens are dried up.
19. Neither charity nor austerities will abide on the wide earth if the heavens should hold back their showers.
20. Nothing on earth can go on without water : so even right conduct itself depends ultimately on rain.
# The Improvisatrice; and Other Poems/The Female Convict

THE FEMALE CONVICT.*
She shrank from all, and her silent mood Made her wish only for solitude: Her eye sought the ground, as it could not brook, For innermost shame, on another's to look; And the cheerings of comfort fell on her ear Like deadliest words, that were curses to hear!— She still was young, and she had been fair; But weather-stains, hunger, toil and care,
That frost and fever that wear the heart, Had made the colours of youth depart From the sallow cheek, save over it came The burning flush of the spirit's shame.
 They were sailing over the salt sea-foam, Far from her country, far from her home; And all she had left for her friends to keep Was a name to hide, and a memory to weep! And her future held forth but the felon's lot, To live forsaken—to die forgot! She could not weep, and she could not pray, But she wasted and withered from day to day, Till you might have counted each sunken vein When her wrist was prest by the iron chain; And sometimes I thought her large dark eye Had the glisten of red insanity.
She called me once to her sleeping-place; A strange wild look was upon her face, Her eye flashed over her cheek so white, Like a gravestone seen in the pale moonlight, And she spoke in a low unearthly tone— The sound from mine ear hath never gone! "I had last night the loveliest dream: "My own land shone in the summer beam, "I saw the fields of the golden grain, "I heard the reaper's harvest strain; "There stood on the hills the green pine-tree, "And the thrush and the lark sang merrily. "A long and a weary way I had come; "But I stopped, methought, by mine own sweet home. "I stood by the hearth, and my father sat there, "With pale thin face, and snow-white hair!
"The Bible lay open upon his knee, "But he closed the book to welcome me. "He led me next where my mother lay, "And together we knelt by her grave to pray, "And heard a hymn it was heaven to hear, "For it echoed one to my young days dear. "This dream has waked feelings long, long since fled, "And hopes which I deemed in my heart were dead! "—We have not spoken, but still I have hung "On the northern accents that dwell on thy tongue; "To me they are music, to me they recall "The things long hidden by Memory's pall! "Take this long curl of yellow hair, "And give it my father, and tell him my prayer, "My dying prayer, was for him."...
Next day Upon the deck a coffin lay; They raised it up, and like a dirge The heavy gale swept o'er the surge; The corpse was cast to the wind and wave— The Convict has found in the green sea a grave.
# The Improvisatrice; and Other Poems/The Crusader

THE CRUSADER.
He is come from the land of the sword and shrine, From the sainted battles of Palestine; The snow-plumes wave o'er his victor crest, Like a glory the red cross hangs at his breast. His courser is black as black can be, Save the brow star white as the foam of the sea, And he wears a scarf of 'broidery rare, The last love-gift of his lady fair:
It bore for device a cross and a dove, And the words, "I am vowed to my God and my love!" He comes not back the same that he went, For his sword has been tried, and his strength has been spent; His golden hair has a deeper brown, And his brow has caught a darker frown, And his lip hath lost its boyish red, And the shade of the South o'er his cheek is spread; But stately his step, and his bearing high, And wild the light of his fiery eye; And proud in the lists were the maiden bright Who might claim the Knight of the Cross for her knight. But he rides for the home he has pined to see In the court, in the camp, in captivity.
He reached the castle,—the gate was thrown Open and wide, but he stood there alone; He entered the door,—his own step was all That echoed within the deserted hall; He stood on the roof of the ancient tower, And for banner there waved one pale wall-flower; And for sound of the trumpet and sound of the horn, Came the scream of the owl on the night-wind borne; And the turrets were falling, the vassals were flown, And the bat ruled the halls he had thought his own. His heart throbbed high: oh, never again Might he soothe with sweet thoughts his spirit's pain, He never might think on his boyish years Till his eyes grew dim with those sweet warm tears Which Hope and Memory shed when they meet. The grave of his kindred was at his feet:
He stood alone, the last of his race, With the cold wide world for his dwelling-place. The home of his fathers gone to decay,— All but their memory was pass'd away; No one to welcome, no one to share The laurel he no more was proud to wear: He came in the pride of his war success But to weep over very desolateness. They pointed him to a barren plain Where his father, his brothers, his kinsmen were slain; They showed him the lowly grave, where slept The maiden whose scarf he so truly had kept; But they could not show him one living thing To which his withered heart could cling....
 Amid the warriors of Palestine Is one, the first in the battle-line;
It is not for glory he seeks the field, For a blasted tree is upon his shield, And the motto he bears is, "I fight for a grave:" He found it—that warrior has died with the brave!
# The Improvisatrice; and Other Poems/The Grey Cross

THE GREY CROSS.
A grey Cross stands beneath yon old beech tree; It marks a soldier's and a maiden's grave: Around it is a grove of orange-trees, With silver blossoms and with golden fruit. It was a Spaniard, whom he saved from death, Raised that Cross o'er the gallant Englishman.
 He left home a young soldier, full of hope And enterprise;—he fell in his first field! There came a lovely pilgrim to his tomb, The blue-eyed girl, his own betrothed bride,—
Pale, delicate,—one looking as the gale That bowed the rose could sweep her from the earth. Yet she had left her home, where every look Had been watched, oh, so tenderly!—and miles, Long weary miles, had wandered. When she came To the dim shadow of the aged beech, She was worn to a shadow; colourless The cheek once dyed by her own mountain-rose. She reached the grave, and died upon the sod! They laid her by her lover:—and her tale Is often on the songs that the guitar Echoes in the lime valleys of Castile!
# The Improvisatrice; and Other Poems/The Emerald Ring

THE EMERALD RING.
A SUPERSTITION.
It is a gem which hath the power to show If plighted lovers keep their faith, or no: If faithful, it is like the leaves of spring; If faithless, like those leaves when withering.  Take back your emerald gem,  There is no colour in the stone;  It might have graced a diadem,  But now its hue and light are gone!
Take back your gift, and give me mine—  The kiss that sealed our last love-vow;  Ah, other lips have been on thine,—  My kiss is lost and sullied now!  The gem is pale, the kiss forgot,  And, more than either, you are changed;  But my true love has altered not,  My heart is broken—not estranged!
# The Looking-Glass (Peterson)/Chapter 9

CHURCH COLLECTIONS.
On Sabbath-days the Collections made in many of the Churches in the United States are very badly managed. Much better plans might be adopted than are now in use in many of the Churches, both in cities and villages. Preaching three times a day, a call is made at the end of each sermon for money, etc., which destroys the good effect of the instruction just received by the congregation. Arrangements should be made with the members, and others who favor Church governments, to appoint one day in the week or month, and then pay in whatever amount they may be able for the support of the Church, etc., and thereby let the Sabbath be wholly set apart for Spiritual services.
The Author, in making the suggestion, earnestly prays that the above principles may be adopted in all Christian Churches.
☞Any communications for the Author may be left with Dr. R. F. Hibbard, No. 93 John street; or with Mrs. Hardy, at No. 35 Wall street, (Mr. Furniss' office, No. 21, in the rear.)
Layout 2
# The Loom of Destiny

* related portals: Canada, General literature.
* sister projects: Commons category.
Mr. Stringer knows his Kipling well. From "The Drums of the Fore and Aft," "Baa! Baa! Black Sheep," ... he has drawn a good, sturdy inspiration, and in the stories which make up The Loom of Destiny he has given us little men and women who are very interesting and very much flesh and blood. —Bookman, December 1890
This is a collection of stories by a man who has a wonderful insight into the minds of children, their temptations, their doubts, their aspirations—especially of the children of tenements. —Outlook, 6 January 1900 (Full reviews on the Discussion page)
Layout 4
THE LOOM OF DESTINY
THE
LOOM OF DESTINY
Arthur J. Stringer
Boston
Small, Maynard & Company
1899
Copyright, 1899, by
Small, Maynard & Company
(incorporated)
Entered at Stationers' Hall
The University Press Cambridge, U. S. A.
NOTE
I AM indebted to the editor of Ainslee's Magazine for the privilege of incorporating in this volume those stories which originally appeared in that publication under the title of The Loom of Destiny.
A. J. S.
CONTENTS
Page
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1950, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 73 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Living Temple

Not in the world of light alone, Where God has built his blazing throne, Nor yet alone in earth below, With belted seas that come and go, And endless isles of sunlit green, Is all thy Maker's glory seen: Look in upon thy wondrous frame,-- Eternal wisdom still the same!
The smooth, soft air with pulse-like waves Flows murmuring through its hidden caves, Whose streams of brightening purple rush, Fired with a new and livelier blush, While all their burden of decay The ebbing current steals away, And red with Nature's flame they start From the warm fountains of the heart.
No rest that throbbing slave may ask, Forever quivering o'er his task, While far and wide a crimson jet Leaps forth to fill the woven net Which in unnumbered crossing tides The flood of burning life divides, Then, kindling each decaying part, Creeps back to find the throbbing heart.
But warmed with that unchanging flame Behold the outward moving frame, Its living marbles jointed strong With glistening band and silvery thong, And linked to reason's guiding reins By myriad rings in trembling chains, Each graven with the threaded zone Which claims it as the master's own.
See how yon beam of seeming white Is braided out of seven-hued light, Yet in those lucid globes no ray By any chance shall break astray. Hark how the rolling surge of sound, Arches and spirals circling round, Wakes the hushed spirit through thine ear With music it is heaven to hear.
Then mark the cloven sphere that holds All thought in its mysterious folds; That feels sensation's faintest thrill, And flashes forth the sovereign will; Think on the stormy world that dwells Locked in its dim and clustering cells! The lightning gleams of power it sheds Along its hollow glassy threads!
O Father! grant thy love divine To make these mystic temples thine! When wasting age and wearying strife Have sapped the leaning walls of life, When darkness gathers over all, And the last tottering pillars fall, Take the poor dust thy mercy warms, And mould it into heavenly forms!
# The Lockless Door

* "The Lockless Door" in New Hampshire, a Poem with Notes and Grace Notes (1923)
* "The Lockless Door" in Miscellaneous Poems to 1920 (1923)
# The Lode Star

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1930, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 93 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
IMPERIAL over all the hosts of night,
Still regnant glorious in its ordered place
When storms prevailed on ebon heights of space,
Invincible by power of morning light,
His Lode Star shone, and to his- straining sight
The orbit gleamed of his immortal race.
Then toward that distant goal he set his face,
And followed ever after with his might.
Child to the law of the celestial spheres.
And of the roses with their circling bloom—
The key-note of that choral march begun
'Mid chaos thunders, ever in his ears.
Till past the earth-horizon of the tomb,
His Lode Star led'him toward the farthest, Sun.
# The Living Lost

Matron! the children of whose love, Each to his grave, in youth have passed, And now the mould is heaped above The dearest and the last! Bride! who dost wear the widow's veil Before the wedding flowers are pale! Ye deem the human heart endures No deeper, bitterer grief than yours.
Yet there are pangs of keener wo, Of which the sufferers never speak, Nor to the world's cold pity show The tears that scald the cheek, Wrung from their eyelids by the shame And guilt of those they shrink to name, Whom once they loved, with cheerful will, And love, though fallen and branded, still.
Weep, ye who sorrow for the dead, Thus breaking hearts their pain relieve; And graceful are the tears ye shed, And honoured ye who grieve.
The praise of those who sleep in earth, The pleasant memory of their worth, The hope to meet when life is past, Shall heal the tortured mind at last.
But ye, who for the living lost That agony in secret bear, Who shall with soothing words accost The strength of your despair? Grief for your sake is scorn for them Whom ye lament and all condemn; And o'er the world of spirits lies A gloom from which ye turn your eyes.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Looking-Glass

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Looking-Glass."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* The Looking-Glass, a story by John Davys Beresford
* The Looking-Glass, a story by Anton Chekhov
* The Looking-Glass, a poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
* The Looking-Glass, a poem by Rudyard Kipling
* Through the Looking-Glass, a novel by Lewis Carroll
* The Looking-Glass, a book by Daniel H. Peterson
# The Look

* Teasdale, Sara (1915), "The Look" in Rivers to the Sea.
* Teasdale, Sara (1917), "The Look" in Love Songs.
# The Looking-Glass (Peterson)

A Lady teaching her little brother and the Author, prior to the latter redeeming his mother, who remains with the lady. The author goes to his new home, carrying with him obedience, truth, honesty, willing at all times to receive good instruction, by which means he was treated as one of the family, and wanted for nothing.
THE
LOOKING-GLASS:
BEING
A TRUE REPORT AND NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE, TRAVELS, AND LABORS
OF THE
REV. DANIEL H. PETERSON,
a colored clergyman;
Embracing a period of time from the year 1812 to 1854,
and including
HIS VISIT TO WESTERN AFRICA.
with engravings.
NEW YORK:
WRIGHT, PRINTER, 146 FULTON STREET.
1854.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854,
By Rev. Daniel H. Peterson,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New-York.
PREFACE
The author of this work has for a long time, been greatly concerned for this land and nation, and for the human family in general; but, more particularly, for the unfortunate African, both in this and every other part of the world which he has seen or read of. The Author desires, and his prayer is, that tranquillity, peace, and happiness may cover the earth, as the waters cover the great deep.
Forasmuch as there has been a great deal of confusion in relation to my afflicted nation, and different parties holding opposite opinions have come forward with a design to alleviate their condition, which good intentions have ​all failed, therefore I have made it a matter of prayer, if peradventure I might be enlightened with respect to the best plan for the relief of the colored people. I now feel that I am able to answer this great question in full.
First, It is necessary to become Christians, to love and fear God, and keep his commandments, to have patience, and faith in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ: then we shall be delivered in due time. Secondly, the reader is referred to the pages of this work. Please read it impartially and carefully. You will see plainly that the Author's sole aim is to promote the happiness of the human family here and hereafter. Therefore, I pray that those who will read this book may be forever blessed in this world, and receive endless happiness in the world to come.
D. H. PETERSON.
New York, May, 1854.
CONTENTS.
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# The Island of Doctor Moreau

Is the introduction to The Atlantic Edition, Wells explains that this book was a reaction to the trial of Oscar Wilde.
* The Island of Doctor Moreau (1896 - American Edition)
* "The Island of Doctor Moreau," in The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition) (2, pp. 1−172) (1924)
# The Island of Doctor Moreau (1896)

The Island of Doctor Moreau is an 1896 science fiction novel written by H. G. Wells, addressing ideas of society and community, human nature and identity, religion, Darwinism, eugenics, and the dangers of unchecked and irresponsible scientific research. Warning: template has been deprecated. one or more chapters are available in a spoken word format.
The
Island of Doctor Moreau
A Possibility
By
H. G. Wells
New York
Stone & Kimball
MDCCCXCVI
COPYRIGHT BY STONE AND KIMBALL MDCCCXCVI
Contents
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1946, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 77 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Island of Appledore/Foreword
### FOREWORD

Any one who knows the coast of New England will know also the Island of Appledore and just where it lies. Such a person can tell you that it is not exactly the place described in this book, that it is small and bare and rocky with no woods, no meadows, no church, or mill, or mill-creek road. Perhaps all that the story tells of it that is true is that there the rocks give forth their strange deep song, “the calling of Appledore,” as warning of a storm, that there the poppies bloom as nowhere else in the world, that there the surf comes rolling in, day in and day out, the whole year through, and that there one’s memory turns back with longing, no matter how many years of absence have gone by.
There, also, you can sit for hours to watch the huge, green breakers come foaming and tumbling in endless procession up the stony beach; you can watch the nimble sandpipers and the tireless, wheeling gulls; and if you ​choose you can spin for yourself just such a story as this one of Billy Wentworth and Captain Saulsby and Sally Shute, a tale of mysteries and perils and midnight adventures on the shores of Appledore.
# The Moon Terror

First publishsed serialized in the Weird Tales, Vol. 1, No.3-4.
Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Moon Pool

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Moon Pool."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* The Moon Pool (All Story Weekly, 1918), novelette by Abraham Merritt
* The Moon Pool (novel), novel based on the novelette by Abraham Merritt