“One might well say of Motley precisely what he said of Prescott, in a letter from Rome to our associate, Mr. William Amory, immediately on hearing of Prescott’s death: ‘I feel inexpressibly disappointed– speaking now for an instant purely from a literary point of view– that the noble and crowning monument of his life, for which he had laid such massive foundations, and the structure of which had been carried forward in such a grand and masterly manner, must remain uncompleted, like the unfinished peristyle of some stately and beautiful temple on which the night of time has suddenly descended. But, still, the works which his great and untiring hand had already thoroughly finished will remain to attest his learning and genius,– a precious and perpetual possession for his country.”
……………………………
The President now called on Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, who said:–
“The thoughts which suggest themselves upon this occasion are such as belong to the personal memories of the dear friends whom we have lost, rather than to their literary labors, the just tribute to which must wait for a calmer hour than the present, following so closely as it does on our bereavement.”
……………………………
“His first literary venture of any note was the story called ‘Morton’s Hope; or, The Memoirs of a Provincial.’ This first effort failed to satisfy the critics, the public, or himself. His personality pervaded the characters and times which he portrayed, so that there was a discord between the actor and his costume. Brilliant passages could not save it; and it was plain enough that he must ripen into something better before the world would give him the reception which surely awaited him if he should find his true destination.
“The early failures of a great writer are like the first sketches of a great artist, and well reward patient study. More than this, the first efforts of poets and story-tellers are very commonly palimpsests: beneath the rhymes or the fiction one can almost always spell out the characters which betray the writer’s self. Take these passages from the story just referred to:
“‘Ah! flattery is a sweet and intoxicating potion, whether we drink it from an earthen ewer or a golden chalice. . . . Flattery from man to woman is expected: it is a part of the courtesy of society; but when the divinity descends from the altar to burn incense to the priest, what wonder if the idolater should feel himself transformed into a god!’
“He had run the risk of being spoiled, but he had a safeguard in his aspirations.
“‘My ambitious anticipations,’ says Morton, in the story, were as boundless as they were various and conflicting. There was not a path which leads to glory in which I was not destined to gather laurels. As a warrior, I would conquer and overrun the world; as a statesman, I would reorganize and govern it; as a historian, I would consign it all to immortality; and, in my leisure moments, I would be a great poet and a man of the world.’
“Who can doubt that in this passage of his story he is picturing his own visions, one of the fairest of which was destined to become reality?
“But there was another element in his character, which those who knew him best recognized as one with which he had to struggle hard, –that is, a modesty which sometimes tended to collapse into self- distrust. This, too, betrays itself in the sentences which follow those just quoted:–
“‘In short,’ says Morton, ‘I was already enrolled in that large category of what are called young men of genius, . . . men of whom unheard-of things are expected; till after long preparation comes a portentous failure, and then they are forgotten. . . . Alas! for the golden imaginations of our youth. . . . They are all disappointments. They are bright and beautiful, but they fade.'”
………………………
The President appointed Professor Lowell to write the Memoir of Mr. Quincy, and Dr. Holmes that of Mr. Motley, for the Society’s “Proceedings.”
Professor William Everett then spoke as follows:
“There is one incident, sir, in Mr. Motley’s career that has not been mentioned to-day, which is, perhaps, most vividly remembered by those of us who were in Europe at the outbreak of our civil war in 1861. At that time, the ignorance of Englishmen, friendly or otherwise, about America, was infinite: they knew very little of us, and that little wrong. Americans were overwhelmed with questions, taunts, threats, misrepresentations, the outgrowth of ignorance, and ignoring worse than ignorance, from every class of Englishmen. Never was an authoritative exposition of our hopes and policy worse needed; and there was no one to do it. The outgoing diplomatic agents represented a bygone order of things; the representatives of Mr. Lincoln’s administration had not come. At that time of anxiety, Mr. Motley, living in England as a private person, came forward with two letters in the ‘Times,’ which set forth the cause of the United States once and for all. No unofficial, and few official, men could have spoken with such authority, and been so certain of obtaining a hearing from Englishmen. Thereafter, amid all the clouds of falsehood and ridicule which we had to encounter, there was one lighthouse fixed on a rock to which we could go for foothold, from which we could not be driven, and against which all assaults were impotent.
“There can be no question that the effect produced by these letters helped, if help had been needed, to point out Mr. Motley as a candidate for high diplomatic place who could not be overlooked. Their value was recognized alike by his fellow-citizens in America and his admirers in England; but none valued them more than the little band of exiles, who were struggling against terrible odds, and who rejoiced with a great joy to see the stars and stripes, whose centennial anniversary those guns are now celebrating, planted by a hand so truly worthy to rally every American to its support.”
G.
POEM BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
I cannot close this Memoir more appropriately than by appending the following poetical tribute:–
IN MEMORY OF JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY.
BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
Sleep, Motley, with the great of ancient days, Who wrote for all the years that yet shall be. Sleep with Herodotus, whose name and praise Have reached the isles of earth’s remotest sea. Sleep, while, defiant of the slow delays Of Time, thy glorious writings speak for thee And in the answering heart of millions raise The generous zeal for Right and Liberty. And should the days o’ertake us, when, at last, The silence that–ere yet a human pen Had traced the slenderest record of the past Hushed the primeval languages of men Upon our English tongue its spell shall cast, Thy memory shall perish only then.
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:
An order of things in which mediocrity is at a premium Better is the restlessness of a noble ambition Blessed freedom from speech-making
Flattery is a sweet and intoxicating potion Forget those who have done them good service His dogged, continuous capacity for work His learning was a reproach to the ignorant History never forgets and never forgives Mediocrity is at a premium
No great man can reach the highest position in our government Over excited, when his prejudices were roughly handled Plain enough that he is telling his own story Republics are said to be ungrateful
They knew very little of us, and that little wrong Visible atmosphere of power the poison of which Wonders whether it has found its harbor or only lost its anchor
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS FOR THE COMPLETE MEMOIR OF MOTLEY BY HOLMES:
A great historian is almost a statesman Admired or despised, as if he or she were our contemporary Alas! one never knows when one becomes a bore All classes are conservative by necessity Already looking forward to the revolt of the slave States American Unholy Inquisition
An order of things in which mediocrity is at a premium Attacked by the poetic mania
Becoming more learned, and therefore more ignorant best defence in this case is little better than an impeachment Better is the restlessness of a noble ambition Blessed freedom from speech-making
But not thoughtlessly indulgent to the boy But after all this isn’t a war It is a revolution Can never be repaired and never sufficiently regretted Cold water of conventional and commonplace encouragement Considerations of state have never yet failed the axe Considerations of state as a reason
Could paint a character with the ruddy life-blood coloring Emulation is not capability
Everything else may happen This alone must happen Excused by their admirers for their shortcomings Excuses to disarm the criticism he had some reason to fear Fear of the laugh of the world at its sincerity Fitted “To warn, to comfort, and command” Flattery is a sweet and intoxicating potion Forget those who have done them good service Fortune’s buffets and rewards can take with equal thanks He was not always careful in the construction of his sentences His learning was a reproach to the ignorant His dogged, continuous capacity for work History never forgets and never forgives How many more injured by becoming bad copies of a bad ideal Ignoble facts which strew the highways of political life In revolutions the men who win are those who are in earnest Indoor home life imprisons them in the domestic circle Intellectual dandyisms of Bulwer
Irresistible force in collision with an insuperable resistance It is n’t strategists that are wanted so much as believers John Quincy Adams
Kindly shadow of oblivion
Manner in which an insult shall be dealt with Mediocrity is at a premium
Misanthropical, sceptical philosopher Most entirely truthful child whe had ever seen Motley was twice sacrificed to personal feelings Nearsighted liberalism
No great man can reach the highest position in our government No two books, as he said, ever injured each other No man is safe (from news reporters)
Not a single acquaintance in the place, and we glory in the fact Only foundation fit for history,–original contemporary document Our mortal life is but a string of guesses at the future Over excited, when his prejudices were roughly handled Plain enough that he is telling his own story Played so long with other men’s characters and good name Progress should be by a spiral movement
Public which must have a slain reputation to devour Radical, one who would uproot, is a man whose trade is dangerous Reasonable to pay our debts rather than to repudiate them Recall of a foreign minister for alleged misconduct in office Republics are said to be ungrateful
Sees the past in the pitiless light of the present Self-educated man, as he had been a self-taught boy Shall Slavery die, or the great Republic? Solitary and morose, the necessary consequence of reckless study Spirit of a man who wishes to be proud of his country Studied according to his inclinations rather than by rule Style above all other qualities seems to embalm for posterity Suicide is confession
Talked impatiently of the value of my time The fellow mixes blood with his colors!
The loss of hair, which brings on premature decay The personal gifts which are nature’s passport everywhere The nation is as much bound to be honest as is the individual The dead men of the place are my intimate friends They knew very little of us, and that little wrong This Somebody may have been one whom we should call Nobody Twenty assaults upon fame and had forty books killed under him Unequivocal policy of slave emancipation Vain belief that they were men at eighteen or twenty Visible atmosphere of power the poison of which Weight of a thousand years of error
Wonders whether it has found its harbor or only lost its anchor Wringing a dry cloth for drops of evidence
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS FOR THE PG COMPLETE OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
A great historian is almost a statesman A nail will pick a lock that defies hatchet and hammer A misprint kills a sensitive author
A little queer and uncertain in general aspect. Absolute, peremptory facts are bullies
Admired or despised, as if he or she were our contemporary Advised every literary man to have a profession. Afraid of books who have not handled them from infancy Age and neglect united gradually
Agreed on certain ultimata of belief Alas! one never knows when one becomes a bore Algebraic symbols of minds which have grown too weak All classes are conservative by necessity All men are bores, except when we want them All the forms of moral excellence, except truth All want to reach old age and grumble when they get it All his geese are swans
All men love all women
Already looking forward to the revolt of the slave States American Unholy Inquisition
An order of things in which mediocrity is at a premium And now we two are walking the long path in peace together Another privilege of talking is to misquote Arc in the movement of a large intellect As I understand truth
As a child, he should have tumbled about in a library As to clever people’s hating each other
Asked Solon what made him dare to be so obstinate Assume a standard of judgment in our own minds At the mercy of every superior mind
Attacked by the poetic mania
Audacious self-esteem, with good ground for it Automatic and involuntary actions of the mind Babbage’s calculating machine
Be very careful to whom you trust one of these keys Beautiful effects from wit,–all the prismatic colors Becoming more learned, and therefore more ignorant Been in the same precise circumstances before Behave like men and gentlemen about it, if you know how. Beliefs are rooted in human wants and weakness, and die hard Bells which small trades-people connect with their shop-doors best defence in this case is little better than an impeachment Better too few words, from the woman we love Better for mankind,–and all the worse for the fishes Better is the restlessness of a noble ambition Bewitching cup of self-quackery
Bill which will render pockets a superfluity in your next suit Blank checks of intellectual bankruptcy
Blessed freedom from speech-making
Bowing and nodding over the music
Brain often runs away with the heart’s best blood Brilliant flashes–of silence!
Brute beasts of the intellectual domain Bury in it beliefs, doubts, dreams, hopes, and terrors But we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor. But it was in talking of Life that we came most nearly together But not thoughtlessly indulgent to the boy But after all this isn’t a war It is a revolution C’est le DERNIER pas qui co te
Called an old man for the first time Can never be repaired and never sufficiently regretted Character is distinctly shown at the age of four months. Cigar
Clairvoyance which sees into things without opening them Code of finalities is a necessary condition of profitable talk Cold shower-bath the world furnishes gratis Cold water of conventional and commonplace encouragement Comfort is essential to enjoyment
Commerce is just putting his granite foot upon them Common sense was good enough for him
Common sense, as you understand it. Compare the racer with the trotter
Conceit is just a natural thing to human minds Conceit has the virtue of making them cheerful Conclusion that he or she is really dull Conflicting advice of all manner of officious friends Consciousness of carrying a “settler” in the form of a fact Considerations of state have never yet failed the axe Considerations of state as a reason
Controversy
Conversation which is suggestive rather than argumentative Conversational blank checks or counters
Conversational soprano
Conversational bully
Conversational fungi spring up most luxuriantly Could paint a character with the ruddy life-blood coloring Creative action is not voluntary at all
Crippled souls
Crow with a king-bird after him
Cut your climate to your constitution Dangerous subjects
Demand for intellectual labor is so enormous Did I believe in love at first sight?
Didn’t know Truth was such an invalid Differ on the fundamental principles
Dishwater from the washings of English dandyism Disputing about remainders and fractions Do wish she would get well–or something Do you ever wonder why poets talk so much about flowers? Do you know how important good jockeying is to authors? Do not be bullied out of your common sense by the specialist Don’t begin to pry till you have got the long arm on your side Don’t make your moral staple consist of the negative virtues Don’t believe any man ever talked like that in this world Don’t be in a hurry to choose your friends Don’t ever think the poetry is dead in an old man Doomed to the pangs of an undeceived self-estimate Dullest of teachers is the one who does not know what to omit Dulness is not commonly a game fish
Earned your money by the dose you have taken Easier to say this than to prove it
Easier to dispute it than to disprove it Educational factory
Elysian abandonment of a huge recumbent chair. Emulation is not capability
Every person’s feelings have a front-door and a side-door Everything else may happen This alone must happen Excused by their admirers for their shortcomings Excuses to disarm the criticism he had some reason to fear Extra talent does sometimes make people jealous Facts always yield the place of honor, in conversation Fall silent and think they are thinking
Fear of the laugh of the world at its sincerity Few, if any, were ruined by drinking
Fitted “To warn, to comfort, and command” Flash terms for words which truly characterize their objects. Flattery is a sweet and intoxicating potion Forget those who have done them good service Fortune is the measure of intelligence
Fortune had left her, sorrow had baptized her Fortune’s buffets and rewards can take with equal thanks Friendship authorizes you to say disagreeable things Gambling with dice or stocks
Gambling, on the great scale, is not republican Generalize the disease and individualize the patient Generally ruined before they became drunkards Genius in an essentially common person is detestable Gift of seeing themselves in the true light Give it an intellectual shake and hold it up to the light Give us the luxuries of life
Good for nothing until they have been long kept and used Good feeling helps society to make liars of most of us Good Americans, when they die, go to Paris Got his hand up, as a pointer lifts his forefoot Governed, not by, but according to laws
Grave without a stone where nothing but a man is buried Great silent-moving misery puts a new stamp on us Grow old early, if you would be old long Grow we must, if we outgrow all that we love Habit is a labor-saving invention
Habits are the crutches of old age
Half knowledge dreads nothing but whole knowledge Half-censure divided between the parties Hard it is for some people to get out of a room He did not know so much about old age then as he does now He who is carried by horses must deal with rogues He was not always careful in the construction of his sentences He that has once done you a kindness
Height of art to conceal art
Her breathing was somewhat hurried and high, or thoracic Here lies buried the soul of the licentiate Pedro Garcias Hire logic, in the shape of a lawyer
His learning was a reproach to the ignorant His dogged, continuous capacity for work History never forgets and never forgives Hold their outspread hands over your head Holes in all her pockets
Hoped he did deserve a little abuse occasionally Hopelessly dull discourse acts inductively How long will school-keeping take to kill you? How many more injured by becoming bad copies of a bad ideal Hung with moss, looking like bearded Druids Hydrostatic paradox of controversy
I always believed in life rather than in books I always break down when folks cry in my face I allow no “facts ” at this table
I show my thought, another his
I tell my secrets too easily when I am downhearted. I replied with my usual forbearance
I think I have not been attacked enough for it I never think I have hit hard unless it rebounds I love horses
I have taken all knowledge to be my province I have lived by the sea-shore and by the mountains I hate books
I had not thought love was ever meant for me. I am my own son, as it seems to me
If I thought I should ever see the Alps! If they have run as well as they knew how! If so and so, we should have been this or that Ignoble facts which strew the highways of political life Il faut ne pas BRUTALISER la machine
In revolutions the men who win are those who are in earnest In what direction we are moving
Incipit Allegoria Senectutis.
Indoor home life imprisons them in the domestic circle Infinite ocean of similitudes and analogies Insanity is often the logic of an accurate mind overtasked Insanity
Intellectual dandyisms of Bulwer
Intellectual companions can be found easily Irresistible force in collision with an insuperable resistance Is this the mighty occan?–is this all?
It is pleasant to be foolish at the right time It is n’t strategists that are wanted so much as believers It is by little things that we know ourselves John Quincy Adams
Judge men’s minds by comparing with mine Keep his wit in the background
Key to this side-door
Kindly shadow of oblivion
Knowledge and timber only useful when seasoned La main de fer sous le gant de velours
Laid the egg of the Reformation which Luther hatched Laughs at times at the grand airs “Science” puts on Law of the road with regard to handsome faces Leading a string of my mind’s daughters to market Leap at a single bound into celebrity
Learn anything twice as easily as in my earlier days Leave your friend to learn unpleasant truths from his enemies Lecturer is public property
Let us cry!
Liability of all men to be elected to public office Life would be nothing without paper-credit Life is maintained by the respiration of oxygen and of sentiment Like taking the cat in your lap after holding a squirrel Listen to what others say about subjects you have studied Little narrow streaks of specialized knowledge Little great man
Little muscle which knows its importance Live on the reputation of the reputation they might have made Living in a narrow world of dry habits
Logic
Logicians carry the surveyor’s chain over the track Long illness is the real vampyrism
Look through the silvered rings of the arcus senilis! Love-capacity is a congenital endowment
Love must be either rich or rosy
Love is sparingly soluble in the words of men Lying is unprofitable
Made up your mind to do when you ask them for advice Man who means to be honest for a literary pickpocket Man is father to the boy that was
Man of family
Man’s and a woman’s dusting a library Man’s first life-story shall clean him out, so to speak Manner in which an insult shall be dealt with Mathematical fact
May doubt everything to-day if I will only do it civilly Meaningless blushing
Mechanical invention had exhausted itself Mediocrity is at a premium
Memory is a net
Men of facts wait their turn in grim silence Men who have found new occupations when growing old Men grow sweet a little while before they begin to decay Men that know everything except how to make a living Men are fools, cowards, and liars all at once Men that it weakens one to talk with an hour Might have hired an EARTHQUAKE for less money! Misanthropical, sceptical philosopher
Moralist and occasional sermonizer
Most entirely truthful child whe had ever seen Most of our common, working beliefs are probabilities Motley was twice sacrificed to personal feelings Moved as if all her articulations were elbow-joints Much ashamed of some people for retaining their reason Must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it Must be weaned from his late suppers now Must not read such a string of verses too literally Napoleon’s test
Nature, who always has her pockets full of seeds Nature dresses and undresses them
Nearest approach to flying that man has ever made Nearsighted liberalism
Neither make too much of flaws or overstatements Never forget where they have put their money No man knows his own voice
No great man can reach the highest position in our government No two books, as he said, ever injured each other No man is safe (from news reporters)
No fresh truth ever gets into a book No families take so little medicine as those of doctors Nobody is so old he doesn’t think he can live a year None of my business to inquire what other persons think Not a single acquaintance in the place, and we glory in the fact Nutritious diet of active sympathetic benevolence Oblivion as residuary legatee
Oblivion’s Uncatalogued Library
Odious trick of speech or manners must be got rid of. Oh, so patient she is, this imperturbable Nature! Old Age
Old age appear as a series of personal insults and indignities Old jokes are dynamometers of mental tension One very sad thing in old friendships
One whose patients are willing to die in his hands One doesn’t like to be cruel,–and yet one hates to lie One that goes in a nurse may come out an angel One can generally tell these wholesale thieves easily enough Only foundation fit for history,–original contemporary document Open patches where the sun gets in and goes to sleep Oracle
Original, though you have uttered it a hundred times Ought to produce insanity in every well-regulated mind Our brains are seventy-year clocks
Our mortal life is but a string of guesses at the future Over excited, when his prejudices were roughly handled Overrate their own flesh and blood
Painted there by reflection from our faces Passion never laughs
People that make puns are like wanton boys People in the green stage of millionism
Person is really full of information, and does not abuse it Personal incidents that call up single sharp pictures Physical necessity to talk out what is in the mind Picket-guard at the extreme outpost
Plagiarism
Plain enough that he is telling his own story Played so long with other men’s characters and good name Pluck survives stamina
Poem must be kept and used, like a meersehaum, or a violin Poetry of words is quite as beautiful as that of sentences Poetry, instead of making one other heart happy Poor creature that does not often repeat himself Poverty is evidence of limited capacity
Power of music
Power of human beings is a very strictly limited agency Pretensions of presumptuous ignorance
Pride, in the sense of contemning others Probabilities
Progress should be by a spiral movement Project a principle full in the face of obvious fact! Provincial conceit, which some of us must plead guilty to. Pseudo-science
Pseudological inanity
Public which must have a slain reputation to devour Public itself, which insists on being poisoned Pun is prim facie an insult
Put coppers on the railroad-tracks
Qu’est ce qu’il a fait? What has he done? Quackery and idolatry are all but immortal Question everything
Racing horses are essentially gambling implements Radical, one who would uproot, is a man whose trade is dangerous Rapidity with which ideas grow old in our memories Rather longer than usual dressing that morning Rather meet three of the scowlers than one of the smilers. Reasonable to pay our debts rather than to repudiate them Recall of a foreign minister for alleged misconduct in office Regained my freedom with a sigh
Religious mental disturbances
Remarkably intelligent audience
Remarks like so many postage-stamps Republics are said to be ungrateful
Returning thanks after a dinner of many courses Ribbon which has strangled so many false pretensions Sad thing to be born a sneaking fellow
Saddle-leather is in some respects even preferable Saint may be a sinner that never got down to “hard pan” Saturation-point of each mind differs from that of every other Saying one thing about it and believing another Scientific certainty has no spring in it Scientific knowledge
Second story projecting
See if the ripe fruit were better or worse Sees the past in the pitiless light of the present Self-made men?
Self-unconsciousness of genius
Self-love is a cup without any bottom Self-assertion, such as free suffrage introduces Self-educated man, as he had been a self-taught boy Sense of SMELL
Sentenced to capital punishment for the crime of living Sentimentality, which is sentiment overdone Settler in the form of a fact or a revolver Several false premises
Shake the same bough again
Shall Slavery die, or the great Republic? She always laughs and cries in the right places She who nips off the end of a brittle courtesy Shut out, not all light, but all the light they do not want Shy of asking questions of those who know enough to destroy SIN has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all Single combats between dead authors and living housemaids Singular inability to weigh the value of testimony Six persons engaged in every dialogue between two Slow to accept marvellous stories and many forms of superstition Small potatoes always get to the bottom. Smiling at present follies
So much woman in it,–muliebrity, as well as femineity So much must be pardoned to humanity
So long as a woman can talk, there is nothing she cannot bear Society is a strong solution of books
Society of Mutual Admiration
Sold his sensibilities
Solitary and morose, the necessary consequence of reckless study Some people think that truth and gold are always to be washed for Some people that think everything pitiable is so funny Somebody had been calling him an old man Something she is ashamed of, or ought to be Something better than flowers; it is a seed-capsule Somewhere,– somewhere,–love is in store for them Spirit of a man who wishes to be proud of his country Stages of life
Struggle with the ever-rising mists of delusion Studied according to his inclinations rather than by rule Stupidity often saves a man from going mad Style is the man
Style above all other qualities seems to embalm for posterity Sudden conviction that I had seen it somewhere Suicide is confession
Takes very little to spoil everything for writer, talker, lover Talk about those subjects you have had long in your mind Talk without words is half their conversation Talk, to me, is only spading up the ground for crops of thought Talked impatiently of the value of my time Talkers who have what may be called jerky minds Talking with a dull friend affords great relief Talking shapes our thoughts for us
Talking is like playing on the harp Talking is one of the fine arts
Tears that we weep inwardly with unchanging features Temptation of money and fame is too great for young people Tepid and unstimulating expression of enthusiasm Terrible smile
Thanklessness of critical honesty
That great procession of the UNLOVED The loss of hair, which brings on premature decay The personal gifts which are nature’s passport everywhere The nation is as much bound to be honest as is the individual The fellow mixes blood with his colors!
The dead men of the place are my intimate friends The way to argue down a vice is not to tell lies about it The year eighteen hundred and ever-so-few The race that shortens its weapons lengthens its boundaries The Amen! of Nature is always a flower
The schoolmistress had tried life, too The house is quite as much the body we live in Their business is not a matter of sympathy, but of intellect There is a higher law in grammar, not to be put down There is almost always at least one key to this side-door There is no elasticity in a mathematical fact They knew very little of us, and that little wrong Think of the griefs that die unspoken!
Think only in single file front this day forward Third vowel as its center
This Somebody may have been one whom we should call Nobody This is the shortest way,–she said
This is one of those cases in which the style is the man Those who ask your opinion really want your praise Time is a fact
To pay up, to own up, and to shut up, if beaten To trifle with the vocabulary
Too late!—- “It might have been.”—-Amen! Travellers change their guineas, but not their characters Triumph of the ciphering hand-organ
True state of creative genius is allied to reverie, or dreaming Truth must roll, or nobody can do anything with it Truth is only safe when diluted
Truth’s sharp corners get terribly rounded Truths a man carries about with him are his tools Turn over any old falsehood
Twenty assaults upon fame and had forty books killed under him Unadorned and in plain calico
Undertakers
Unequivocal policy of slave emancipation Unpacks and unfolds incidental illustrations Unpretending mediocrity is good
Vain belief that they were men at eighteen or twenty Virtually old when it first makes its appearance Virtue passed through the hem of their parchment Virtues of a sporting man
Visible atmosphere of power the poison of which Vulgarism of language
Wait awhile!
Walls of that larger Inquisition which we call Civilization Want of ideas, want of words, want of manners We are all theological students
We carry happiness into our condition We don’t read what we don’t like
We die out of houses, just as we die out of our bodies We always compare ourselves with our contemporaries. We never tell our secrets to people that pump for them. Wedded, faded away, threw themselves away Wedding-ring conveys a right to a key to this side-door Weeded their circle pretty well of these unfortunates Weight of a thousand years of error
What a satire, by the way, is that machine What are the great faults of conversation? Whether anything can be conscious of its own flavor?? Whether gifted with the accident of beauty or not While she is silent, Nature is working for her Who is in advance of it or even with it
Wholesale professional dealers in misfortune Why authors and actors are ashamed of being funny? Why did I not ask? you will say
Will you take the long path with me? Winning-post a slab of white or gray stone Wit knows that his place is at the tail of a procession. Wonder how my great trees are coming on this summer. Wonders whether it has found its harbor or only lost its anchor World calls him hard names, probably
World has a million roosts for a man, but only one nest. Wringing a dry cloth for drops of evidence Yes, I am a man, like another
Young man knows the rules, but the old man knows the exceptions Youth and age–something in the soul
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