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

Εξώφυλλο
Oxford University Press, 1923 - 271 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 81 - 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.
Σελίδα 222 - At half-past nine by the meet'n'-house clock, Just the hour of the earthquake shock! What do you think the parson found, When he got up and stared around? The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, As if it had been to the mill and ground! You see, of course, if...
Σελίδα 222 - ... clock,— Just the hour of the Earthquake shock! —What do you think the parson found, When he got up and stared around? The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, As if it had been to the mill and ground! You see, of course, if you're not a dunce, How it went to pieces all at once,— All at once, and nothing first,— Just as bubbles do when they burst.
Σελίδα 221 - 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 82 - 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 265 - 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!
Σελίδα 234 - My dame should dress in cheap attire (Good, heavy silks are never dear); I own perhaps I might desire Some shawls of true Cashmere — Some marrowy crapes of China silk, Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk. I would not have the horse I drive So fast that folks must stop and stare...
Σελίδα 221 - 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 96 - Every real thought on every real subject knocks the wind out of somebody or other. As soon as his breath comes back, he very probably begins to expend it in hard words.
Σελίδα 9 - A pun does not commonly justify a blow in return. But if a blow were given for such cause, and death ensued, the jury would be judges both of the facts and of the pun, and might, if the latter were of an aggravated character, return a verdict of justifiable homicide. Thus, in a case lately decided before Miller, J., Doe presented Roe a subscription paper, and urged the claims of suffering humanity. Roe replied by asking, When charity was like a top? It was in evidence that Doe preserved a dignified...

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