Good children's literature appeals not only to the child in the adult, but to the adult in the child.

Good children's literature appeals not only to the child in the adult, but to the adult in the child.

All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain
called "Huckleberry Finn."

All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain
called "Huckleberry Finn."

When the waves are round me breaking,As I pace the deck alone,And my eye in vain is seekingSome green leaf read more

When the waves are round me breaking,As I pace the deck alone,And my eye in vain is seekingSome green leaf to rest upon;What would not I give to wanderWhere my old companions dwell?Absence makes the heart grow fonder,Isle of Beauty, fare thee well! - Paradise Lost.

At last is Hector stretch'd upon the plain,Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus slain:Then, Prince! You should have fear'd, what read more

At last is Hector stretch'd upon the plain,Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus slain:Then, Prince! You should have fear'd, what now you feel;Achilles absent was Achilles still:Yet a short space the great avenger stayed,Then low in dust thy strength and glory laid. - Iliad, The.

Author: A fool, who, not content with having bored those who have lived with him, insists on tormenting the generations read more

Author: A fool, who, not content with having bored those who have lived with him, insists on tormenting the generations to come.

The writing of a poem is like a child throwing stones into a mineshaft. You compose first, then you listen read more

The writing of a poem is like a child throwing stones into a mineshaft. You compose first, then you listen for the reverberation.

Literature was formerly an art and finance a trade; today it is the reverse.

Literature was formerly an art and finance a trade; today it is the reverse.

The death of Dr. Hudson is a loss to the republick of letters.

The death of Dr. Hudson is a loss to the republick of letters.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,And breathed in the face of the foe as he read more

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! - Destruction of Sennacherib, The.