Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the God read more

Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the God of storms,
The lightning and the gale.

There are three wicks you know to the lamp of a man's life:
brain, blood, and breath. Press the read more

There are three wicks you know to the lamp of a man's life:
brain, blood, and breath. Press the brain a little, its light
goes out, followed by both the others. Stop the heart a minute,
and out go all three of the wicks. Choke the air out of the
lungs, and presently the fluid ceases to supply the other centres
of flame, and all is soon stagnation, cold, and darkness.

Grave is the Master's look; his forehead wears
Thick rows of wrinkles, prints of worrying cares:
Uneasy read more

Grave is the Master's look; his forehead wears
Thick rows of wrinkles, prints of worrying cares:
Uneasy lies the heads of all that rule,
His worst of all whose kingdom is a school.
Supreme he sits; before the awful frown
That binds his brows the boldest eye goes down;
Not more submissive Israel heard and saw
At Sinai's foot the Giver of the Law.

No, my friends, I go (always other things being equal) for the
man that inherits family traditions and the read more

No, my friends, I go (always other things being equal) for the
man that inherits family traditions and the cumulative humanities
of at least four or five generations.

Vain? Let it be so! Nature was her teacher,
What if a lovely and unsistered creature
Loved read more

Vain? Let it be so! Nature was her teacher,
What if a lovely and unsistered creature
Loved her own harmless gift of pleasing feature.
- Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.,