The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table: Every Man His Own Boswell

Передняя обложка
J.R. Osgood, 1875 - Всего страниц: 373
 

Отзывы - Написать отзыв

LibraryThing Review

Пользовательский отзыв  - EricCostello - LibraryThing

I was enormously disappointed in this book. If the narrator is indeed an autocrat, I'm all for revolution and bringing up the guillotine. Turgid and leaden in its delivery, not particularly funny, nor particularly wise. In short, the autocrat is a windy bore. Not recommended. Читать весь отзыв

LibraryThing Review

Пользовательский отзыв  - madepercy - LibraryThing

This little book took me some time to read. At first, I thought I might write down some of the quotes from it, but soon I realised that each page had a memorable quote and I decided to leave the ... Читать весь отзыв

Другие издания - Просмотреть все

Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения

Популярные отрывки

Стр. 97 - Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap, forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! While on mine ear it rings, Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings: — Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll!
Стр. 97 - 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.
Стр. 92 - I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving: To reach the port of heaven, we must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it, — but we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor.
Стр. 291 - Snuffy old drone from the German hive. That was the year when Lisbon-town Saw the earth open and gulp her down, And Braddock's army was done so brown, Left without a scalp to its crown. It was on the terrible Earthquake-day That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay. Now in building of chaises, I tell you what, There is always somewhere a weakest spot...
Стр. 292 - T' make that place uz strong uz the rest.'' So the Deacon inquired of the village folk Where he could find the strongest oak, That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke, — That was for spokes and floor and sills; He sent for lancewood to make the thills ; The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees; The panels of white-wood, that...
Стр. 310 - ... tis a sin To care for such unfruitful things ; One good-sized diamond in a pin, Some, not so large, in rings. A ruby, and a pearl, or so, Will do for me — I laugh at show. My dame should dress in cheap attire (Good, heavy silks are never dear) ; I own perhaps I might desire Some shawls of true Cashmere — Some marrowy crapes of China silk, Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk. I would not have the horse I drive So fast that folks must stop and stare...
Стр. 349 - The wild flowers who will stoop to number ? A few can touch the magic string, And noisy Fame is proud to win them ; — Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them ! Nay, grieve not for the dead alone Whose song has told their hearts...
Стр. 309 - Little I ask; my wants are few ; I only wish a hut of stone, (A very plain brown stone will do,) That I may call my own ; — And close at hand is such a one, In yonder street that fronts the sun. Plain food is quite enough for me; Three courses are as good as ten; — If Nature can subsist on three, Thank Heaven for three. Amen! I always thought cold victual nice; — My choice would be vanilla-ice. I...
Стр. 311 - 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...
Стр. 97 - This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; Wrecked is the ship of pearl!

Библиографические данные