`Guess now who holds thee?' - `Death', I said, but there / The silver answer rang, . . . `Not Death, but Love.' |
A woman cannot do the thing she ought, which means whatever perfect thing she can, in life, in art, in science, but she fears to let the perfect action take her part and rest there: she must prove what she can do before she does it, / prate of woman's rights, of woman's mission, woman's function, till the men (who are prating, too, on their side) cry, ''A woman's function plainly is... to talk'.' Poor souls, they are very reasonably vexed! |
A woman is always younger than a man at equal years. |
A woman's always younger than a man of equal years. |
All actual heroes are essential men, / And all men possible heroes... |
An ignorance of means may minister To greatness, but an ignorance of aims Make it impossible to be great at all. |
And each man stand with his face in the light of his own drawn sword. Ready to do what a hero can. |
And each man stand with his face in the light of his own drawn sword. Ready to do what a hero can. |
And each man stands with his face in the light of his own drawn sword. Ready to do what a hero can. |
And kings crept out again to feel the sun. |
And lips say ''God be pitiful,'' who never said, ''God be praised.'' |
At painful times, when composition is impossible and reading is not enough, grammars and dictionaries are excellent for distraction. |
Best be yourself, imperial, plain and true! |
Books succeed, and lives fail. |
Books, books, books had found the secret of a garret-room piled high with cases in my father's name; Piled high, packed large, /where, creeping in and out among the giant fossils of my past, like some small nimble mouse between the ribs of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there at this or that box, pulling through the gap, in heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, the first book first. And how I felt it beat under my pillow, in the morning's dark. An hour before the sun would let me read! My books! |