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

Εξώφυλλο
Houghton, Osgood and Company, 1879 - 373 σελίδες
 

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LibraryThing Review

Κριτική χρηστών  - 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. Ανάγνωση ολόκληρης της κριτικής

LibraryThing Review

Κριτική χρηστών  - 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 ... Ανάγνωση ολόκληρης της κριτικής

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Σελίδα 249 - Little of all we value here Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year Without both feeling and looking queer. In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
Σελίδα 250 - Close by the meet'n'house on the hill. First a shiver, and then a thrill, Then something decidedly like a spill, And the parson was sitting upon a rock, At half past nine by the meet'n'house clock, Just the hour of the earthquake shock!
Σελίδα 84 - 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 1 From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn...
Σελίδα 247 - Now in building of chaises, I tell you what, There is always somewhere a weakest spot,— In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill, In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace,— lurking still, Find it somewhere you must and will,— Above or below, or within or without,— And that 's the reason, beyond a doubt, A chaise breaks down, but doesn't wear out. But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, With an "I dew vum...
Σελίδα 264 - 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...
Σελίδα 249 - 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, For the wheels were just as strong as the thills, And the floor was just as strong as the sills And the panels just as strong as the floor, And the whipple-tree neither less nor more, And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore. And spring and axle and hub encore.
Σελίδα 264 - Which others often show for pride, /value for their power to please, And selfish churls deride; — One Stradivarius, 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...
Σελίδα 85 - Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
Σελίδα 249 - EIGHTEEN HUNDRED;— it came and found The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound. Eighteen hundred increased by ten; — "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.
Σελίδα 170 - The smooth, soft air with pulse-like waves Flows murmuring through its hidden caves, Whose streams of brightening purple rush, Fired with a new and livelier blush, While all their burden of decay The ebbing current steals away, And red with Nature's flame they start From the warm fountains of the heart.

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