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.

Only the more rugged mortals should attempt to keep up with current literature.

Only the more rugged mortals should attempt to keep up with current literature.

Just as it is true that a stream cannot rise above its source, so it is true that a national read more

Just as it is true that a stream cannot rise above its source, so it is true that a national literature cannot rise above the moral level of the social conditions of the people from whom it derives its inspiration.

The poets did well to conjoin music and medicine, because the office of medicine is but to tune the curious read more

The poets did well to conjoin music and medicine, because the office of medicine is but to tune the curious harp of man's body.

Literary Men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.

Literary Men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.

For me, literature is a complex game, both mental and concrete, which is acted out in a physical manner on read more

For me, literature is a complex game, both mental and concrete, which is acted out in a physical manner on the page.rn

Poetry is life distilled.

Poetry is life distilled.

You, the Spirit of the Settlement! ... Not understand that America is God's crucible, the great melting-pot where all the read more

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.

The universe is made up of stories, not of atoms.

The universe is made up of stories, not of atoms.