An Earthen Mold: The Evolution of a Girl

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Gorham Press, 1914 - American fiction - 314 pages

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Page 28 - AULD LANG SYNE. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind! Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne ? CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o...
Page 160 - Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy; Men who possess opinions and a will; Men who have Honor; men who will not lie; Men who can stand before a demagogue And Damn his treacherous flatteries without winking! Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog in public duty and in private thinking; For while the rabble, with their thumb-worn creeds, Their large professions and their little deeds, Mingle in selfish strife, Lo! freedom weeps, Wrong rules the land, and waiting justice sleeps.
Page 73 - Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree ? Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, If he kneel not before the same altar with me...
Page 130 - Oh ! wad some power the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us...
Page 131 - Where is the man who has the power and skill To stem the torrent of a woman's will ? For if she will, she will, you may depend on't. And if she won't, she won't; so there's an end on't.
Page 262 - When other lips and other hearts Their tales of love shall tell, In language whose excess imparts The power they feel so well, There may, perhaps, in such a scene, Some recollection be, Of days that have as happy been, And you'll remember me, And you'll remember, you'll remember me.
Page 69 - Harold was he hight : — but whence his name And lineage long, it suits me not to say ; Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame, And had been glorious in another day : But one...
Page 112 - We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most — feels the noblest — acts the best.
Page 166 - I love thee — 1 love thee ! Is all that I can say. I love thee — I love thee ! Is ever on my tongue ; In all my proudest poesy That chorus still is sung ; It is the verdict of my eyes, Amidst the gay and young : I love thee — I love thee ! A thousand maids among. I love thee — I love thee...
Page 261 - The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation ; that away, Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.

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