What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Alcott American Amos Bronson Alcott Atlantic Monthly beautiful became began Berkshires birthplace born Boston boyhood Brook Farm brought built Cambridge career century Charles charm church colonial Concord corner daughter David Atwood Wasson death delightful died editor elms Emerson England fame father friends gave George William Curtis gifted graduated grave hand Hartford Harvard Hawthorne heart Hill Holmes honor John labor later letters literary lived Longfellow Lowell mansion Margaret Fuller married memory mother native never occupied passed pastor Phillips Brooks pilgrim Plymouth poems poet poet's preacher published pulpit Quincy Ralph Waldo Emerson residence returned Ripley Rufus Choate Salem Scarlet Letter soon stands story Street summer Thoreau thought took town verse visitor volumes Webster Whittier wife William William Ellery Channing woman writes wrote Yale youth
Page 289 - A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall, Now somewhat fallen to decay, With weather stains upon the wall. And stairways worn, and crazy doors, And creaking and uneven floors, And chimneys huge, and tiled and tall.
Page 94 - Oftentimes, as an intellectual and moral exercise, I have sought to follow that poor youth through his subsequent career, and observe how his soul was tortured by the blood stain, contracted as it had been before the long custom of war had robbed human life of its sanctity, and while it still seemed murderous to slay a brother man. This one circumstance has borne more fruit for me than all that history tells us of the fight.
Page 75 - I should have a biographer, he ought to make great mention of this chamber in my memoirs, because so much of my lonely youth was wasted here, and here my mind and character were formed, and here I have been glad and hopeful, and here I have been despondent. And here I sat a long, long time, waiting patiently for the world to know me, and sometimes wondering why it did not know me sooner, or whether it would ever know me at all, — at least, till I were in my grave.
Page 7 - I know not whence your faith came, but while we were lads together at a country college, gathering blue-berries in study-hours under those tall academic pines, or watching the great logs as they tumbled along the current of the Androscoggin, or shooting pigeons and gray squirrels in the woods, or bat-fowling in the summer twilight, or catching trouts in that shadowy little stream which, I suppose, is still wandering riverward through the forest...
Page 307 - I have not seen. Their children were dressed, not in silks and satins, but plain, as becomes the children of those who in all things ought to be examples of Christian simplicity.
Page 183 - It is something else besides pride that teaches me that ill-success in life is really and justly a matter of shame. I am ashamed of it, and I ought to be. The fault of a failure is attributable — in a great degree at least — to the man who fails.
Page 103 - His power of observation seemed to indicate additional senses. He saw as with microscope, heard as with ear-trumpet, and his memory was a photographic register of all he saw and heard.
Page 79 - My book, the publisher tells me, will not be out before April. He speaks of it in tremendous terms of approbation; so does Mrs. Hawthorne, to whom I read the conclusion last night. It broke her heart, and sent her to bed with a grievous headache— which I look upon as a triumphant success.
Page 94 - The boy, — it must have been a nervous impulse, without purpose, without thought, and betokening a sensitive and impressible nature rather than a hardened one, — the boy uplifted his axe and dealt the wounded soldier a fierce and fatal blow upon the head.