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Wine and Walnuts: Or, the Gossip of Great Writers. A Book of Anecdote ...
William Alexander Clouston
No preview available - 2017
ancient Ann Hathaway Author beautiful Beeton's Ben Jonson bird bless Byron called character charm Cloth gilt Coloured Plates curious dead death doth drink earth English eyes fair father flowers Freyja Frodi's genius give gold grace Greek hand happy hath heart heaven Henry Holda honour human humour Illustrations ISABELLA BEETON Joanna Southcott king lady ladybird Les Misérables live London look Lord man's Margaret Catchpole Mark Twain Marriage à-la-Mode married merry mind moral morning nature never night Pepys person play poem poet poetry poor Queen Rake's Progress replied rhyme rich Shakspeare Shakspeare's sleep sneeze song soul story sweet tell thee things Thomas Carlyle Thomas Overbury thou thought unto Victor Hugo virtue W. A. Clouston wife wind wine wise woman words write young youth Zozimus
Page vi - He was the man who, of all modern and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them, not laboriously, but luckily; when he describes anything, you more than see it, you feel it too.
Page 71 - Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not.
Page 122 - How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill!
Page 132 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Page 103 - Go, lovely Rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows When I resemble her to thee How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Page 23 - Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home, Your house is on fire, your children will burn.
Page 115 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...
Page 98 - Fear not to touch the best; The truth shall be thy warrant: Go, since I needs must die, And give the world the lie. Say to the court, it glows And shines like rotten wood; Say to the church it shows What's good, and doth no good: If church and court reply, Then give them both the lie. Tell potentates, they live Acting by others...