The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table: Every Man His Own Boswell |
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The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table: Every Man His Own Boswell Oliver Wendell Holmes Affichage du livre entier - 1886 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
believe beneath better brain carry comes conversation course deal Doctors of Divinity don't doubt expression eyes face fact feel feet fellow flowers give green grow half hand head hear heard heart hold human hundred idea John keep kind lady laugh learned leaves lecture less light live look mean mind morning Nature never observe once pass perhaps person play poem Poet poor Professor question reason remarks remember round schoolmistress seen side sometimes soul speak spring stand story suppose sure sweet talk tell things thought tion told took tree true truth turned verses voice walk whole woman write young youth
Fréquemment cités
Page 241 - Little of all we value here Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year Without both feeling and looking queer. In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
Page 242 - Close by the meet'n'house on the hill. First a shiver, and then a thrill, Then something decidedly like a spill, And the parson was sitting upon a rock, At half past nine by the meet'n'house clock, Just the hour of the earthquake shock!
Page 74 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap, forlorn 1 From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn...
Page 239 - Now in building of chaises, I tell you what, There is always somewhere a weakest spot,— In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill, In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace,— lurking still, Find it somewhere you must and will,— Above or below, or within or without,— And that 's the reason, beyond a doubt, A chaise breaks down, but doesn't wear out. But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, With an "I dew vum...
Page 258 - Perhaps, for just a single spurt, Some seconds less would do no hurt. Of pictures I should like to own Titians and Raphaels three or four— I love so much their style and tone — One Turner...
Page 241 - But nothing local as one may say. There couldn't be, — for the Deacon's art Had made it so like in every part That there wasn'ta chance for one to start, For the wheels were just as strong as the thills, And the floor was just as strong as the sills And the panels just as strong as the floor, And the whipple-tree neither less nor more, And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore. And spring and axle and hub encore.
Page 259 - Which others often show for pride, /value for their power to please, And selfish churls deride; — One Stradivarius, I confess, Two Meerschaums, I would fain possess. Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn, Nor ape the glittering upstart fool; — Shall not carved tables serve my turn, But all must be of buhl '! Give grasping pomp its double share, — I ask but one recumbent chair. Thus humble let me live and die, Nor long for Midas...
Page 75 - Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
Page 241 - EIGHTEEN HUNDRED;— it came and found The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound. Eighteen hundred increased by ten; — "Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then. Eighteen hundred and twenty came; — Running as usual; much the same. Thirty and forty at last arrive, And then come fifty, and FIFTY-FIVE.
Page 162 - The smooth, soft air with pulse-like waves Flows murmuring through its hidden caves, Whose streams of brightening purple rush, Fired with a new and livelier blush, While all their burden of decay The ebbing current steals away, And red with Nature's flame they start From the warm fountains of the heart.
