The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table: Every Man His Own BoswellHoughton, Mifflin and Company, 1890 - Всего страниц: 271 |
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Стр. 86
... cheroot the other day , when a tremendous conviction all at once came over him that he had done just that same thing ever so many times before . I looked severely at him , and his countenance immediately fell -on the side toward me ; I ...
... cheroot the other day , when a tremendous conviction all at once came over him that he had done just that same thing ever so many times before . I looked severely at him , and his countenance immediately fell -on the side toward me ; I ...
Стр. 378
... never saw him look happier than when he came in , his hat saucily on one side , and a cheroot in his mouth , with a huge bunch of tea - roses , which he said were for " Madam . ” 66 One of the last things that came was an 378 THE AUTOCRAT.
... never saw him look happier than when he came in , his hat saucily on one side , and a cheroot in his mouth , with a huge bunch of tea - roses , which he said were for " Madam . ” 66 One of the last things that came was an 378 THE AUTOCRAT.
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table: Every Man His Own Boswell Oliver Wendell Holmes Полный просмотр - 1859 |
The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table: Every Man His Own Boswell Oliver Wendell Holmes Полный просмотр - 1879 |
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American elm asked asphyxia beauty beneath Benjamin Franklin better brain call John cheroot comes commonly conversation Cotton Mather course crown dandyism dear divinity-student Doctors of Divinity doubt dream England England town English elm eyes face fact falchion fancy feel feet flowers green grow hand head hear heard heart horse Houyhnhnm human intellectual JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY kind lady landlady's daughter laugh lecture lips literary living long path look man's mean meerschaum ment mind morning Nature never Note o'er old age once perhaps person poem poets poor porringer Profes Professor remarks remember round rowlocks schoolmistress seen smile sometimes soul speak spring stone story suppose sweet talk tell things thought tion told trees true truth turned uttered verses voice walk waves woman words write young fellow youth
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Стр. 116 - 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 ! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! While on mine ear it rings, Through...
Стр. 311 - 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.
Стр. 115 - 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 ! And every chambered cell, Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell...
Стр. 115 - 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.
Стр. 312 - The parson was working his Sunday's text, Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed At what the -Moses - was coming next. All at once the horse stood still, Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill First a shiver, and then a thrill, Then something decidedly like a spill.
Стр. 372 - O'er Sappho's memory-haunted billow, But where the glistening night-dews weep On nameless sorrow's churchyard pillow. O hearts that break and give no sign Save whitening lip and fading tresses, Till Death pours out his cordial wine Slow-dropped from Misery's crushing presses, — If singing breath or echoing chord To every hidden pang were given, What endless melodies were poured, As sad as earth, as sweet as heaven!
Стр. 110 - I find the great thing in this world is, not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.
Стр. 328 - An easy gait — two, forty-five — Suits me ; I do not care; — 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...
Стр. 311 - First of November, the Earthquake-day. There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay, A general flavor of mild decay, 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...
Стр. 310 - Thorough-brace bison-skin, thick and wide; Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide, Found in the pit when the tanner died. That was the way he 'put her through.