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The writer in western civilization has become not a voice of his tribe, but of his individuality. This is a read more
The writer in western civilization has become not a voice of his tribe, but of his individuality. This is a very narrow-minded situation.
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.
The average Ph.D thesis is nothing but the transference of bones from one graveyard to another.
The average Ph.D thesis is nothing but the transference of bones from one graveyard to another.
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.
A wisely chosen illustration is almost essential to fasten the truth upon the ordinary mind, and no teacher can afford read more
A wisely chosen illustration is almost essential to fasten the truth upon the ordinary mind, and no teacher can afford to neglect this part of his preparation.
If a poet has any obligation toward society, it is to write well. Being in the minority, he has no read more
If a poet has any obligation toward society, it is to write well. Being in the minority, he has no other choice. Failing this duty, he sinks into oblivion. Society, on the other hand, has no obligation toward the poet. A majority by definition, society thinks of itself as having other options than reading verses, no matter how well written. Its failure to do so results in its sinking to that level of locution at which society falls easy prey to a demagogue or a tyrant. This is society's own equivalent of oblivion.
'Humph!' grunted Mr. Romford, seeing his worst fears about to be realized. He had dreamt that he had timbled over read more
'Humph!' grunted Mr. Romford, seeing his worst fears about to be realized. He had dreamt that he had timbled over a poodle in the drawing-room, and squirted a bottle of porter right into a lady's face. 'Who's goin' besides ourselves?' asked Romford, wishing to know the worst at once. 'Better be killed than frightened to death,' thought he. - Mr. Facey Romford's Hounds.
For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books.
For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books.
