You, the Spirit of the Settlement! ... Not understand that America is God's crucible, the great melting-pot where all the races of Europe are melting and re-forming! Here, you stand, good folk, think I, when I see them at Ellis Island, here you stand in your fifty groups, with your fifty languages and histories, and your fifty blood hatreds and rivalries... - Melting Pot, The.
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Beauty is but a flower,Which wrinkles will devour;Brightness falls from the air;Queens have died young and fair;Dust hath closed Helen's read more
Beauty is but a flower,Which wrinkles will devour;Brightness falls from the air;Queens have died young and fair;Dust hath closed Helen's eye.I am sick, I must die;Lord have mercy on us. - Song in Time of Pestilence.
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.
Literature is news that stays news.
Literature is news that stays news.
If someone had told me I would be Pope one day, I would have studied harder.
If someone had told me I would be Pope one day, I would have studied harder.
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.
The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While read more
The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While secret laughter titter'd round the place;The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love,The matrons glance that would those looks reprove:These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these,With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;These were thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms -- but all these charms are fled. - Deserted Village, The.
The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean; not to affect your reader, but read more
The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean; not to affect your reader, but to affect him precisely as you wish.
Just don't take any class where you have to read BEOWULF.
Just don't take any class where you have to read BEOWULF.
Literature is the orchestration of platitudes.
Literature is the orchestration of platitudes.
