The So-Called Human Race |
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Abner Skipp Academy advertises Alice Arthur Dove asked Aunt automobile bassoon beautiful better Bill Byrne Brahms called Cartoonland Chicago chord club column dear door double bassoon doughnuts Dubbe enharmonic Ernest Newman exclaimed foie gras gadder gentleman George George Meredith Gideon Bible girl hair happy Hatter heart Herald Hotel hour interest Jack Jane Austen lady LINE-O'-TYPE live look maid Medicine Hat ment mind Miss Ellenborough morning Mowgli nation-wide Neapolitan Sixth never night Nutt observed political program music reader remark reminds replied reports river room for daddy SECOND POST sing so-called human race story stuff taste taxicab tell thee things thought tion to-day tree toad trout wedding week wheeze wife woman wonder wood word write wrote young
Popular passages
Page 173 - The fifth is ambition. It next will be right To describe each particular batch: Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite, From those that have whiskers, and scratch. 'For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm, Yet, I feel it my duty to say, Some are Boojums - ' The Bellman broke off in alarm, For the Baker had fainted away.
Page 263 - If a Hottentot taught A Hottentot tot, To talk ere the tot could totter, Ought the Hottentot tot Be taught to say "ought," Or what ought to be taught her?
Page 62 - I have no hesitation in stating that the human race has degenerated and is still progressing in a downward direction. We are gradually approaching, with the decadence of youth, a near proximity to a nation of madmen." AS JOYCE KILMER MIGHT HAVE SAID. [Kit Morley in the New York Evening Post.] "The Chicago Tribune owns forests of pulp wood.
Page 270 - an acutely humiliating caricature of the struggling soul of our race." * He is, says fonile Faguet,2 "a man who, in respect of his personal opinions, is a nullity, in respect of education, a mediocrity; he shares the general sentiments and passions of the crowd; his sole occupation is politics, and if that career were closed to him, he would die of starvation. He is precisely the thing of which democracy has need. He will never be led away by his education to develop ideas of his own; and having...
Page 258 - What is it to hate poetry? It is to have no little dreams and fancies, no holy memories of golden days, to be unmoved by serene midsummer evenings or dawn over wild lands, singing or sunshine, little tales told by the fire a long while since, glow-worms and briar rose; for of all these things and more is poetry made. It is to be cut off forever from the fellowship of great men that are gone; to see men and women without their halos and the world without its glory; to miss the meaning lurking behind...
Page 258 - ... what is it to hate poetry? It is to have no little dreams and fancies, no holy memories of golden days, to be unmoved by serene midsummer evenings or dawn over wild lands, singing or sunshine, little tales told by the fire a long while since, glow-worms and briar-rose; for of all these things and more is poetry made.
Page 235 - Trusting that you will mail your check or money order to us at your very earliest convenience while the security is still selling at par, $10 per share, or a letter from you stating your reason for not doing so, we are, respectfully yours, etc. IN dedicating her autobiography to her husband, Mrs. Asquith quotes Epictetus: "Have you not received powers, to the limit of which you will bear all that befalls? Have you not received magnanimity? Have you not received courage? Have you not received endurance?
Page 318 - The two-toed tree toad tried to win The she toad's friendly nod ; For the two-toed tree toad loved the ground That the three-toed tree toad trod. But vainly the two-toed tree toad tried— He couldn't please her whim; In her tree toad bower With her V-toe power, The she toad vetoed him.
Page 94 - Don't laugh at our coffee. You may be old and weak yourself some day." "ONE sinister eye — the right one — gleamed at him over the pistol." — Baltimore Sun. No wonder foreigners have a hard time with the American language. BALLADE OF THE OUBLIETTE. And deeper still the deep-down oubliette, Down thirty feet below the smiling day. — Tennyson. Sudden in the sun An oubliette winks. Where is he? Gone. — Mrs. Browning. Gaoler of the donjon deep — Black from pit to parapet — In whose depths...
Page 43 - Ernest Newman, we shall never again hear the Chopin Funeral March without being reminded of Mr. Sidgwick's summary: "Most funeral marches seem to cheer up in the middle and become gloomy again. I suppose the idea is, (I) the poor old boy's dead; (2) well, after all, he's probably gone to heaven; (3) still, anyhow, the poor old boy's dead.