Four Americans: Roosevelt, Hawthorne, Emerson, Whitman

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Yale review, 1919 - 90 sider

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Side 68 - And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set today a votive stone; That memory may their deed redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone. Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free, Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft we raise to them and thee.
Side 14 - It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood...
Side 64 - How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Side 59 - Aurelius is not a great writer, a great philosophy-maker ; he is the friend and aider of those who would live in the spirit.
Side 57 - The story comes home to me like truth. Oftentimes, as an intellectual and moral exercise, I have sought to follow that poor youth through his subsequent career, and observe how his soul was tortured by the...
Side 81 - ... with the names of artists —Phidias, Raphael, Salvator Rosa— and he speaks always in such a way that it is impossible to connect what he says with any impression we have ever received from the works of those masters. In fact, Emerson has never in his life felt the normal appeal of any painting, or any sculpture, or any architecture, or any music. These things, of which he does not know the meaning in real life, he yet uses, and uses constantly, as symbols to convey ethical truths. The result...
Side 15 - ... neither victory nor defeat. Shame on the man of cultivated taste who permits refinement to develop into a fastidiousness that unfits him for doing the rough work of a workaday world. Among the free peoples who govern themselves there is but a small field of usefulness open for the men of cloistered life who shrink from contact with their fellows.
Side 77 - Let war and trade and creeds and song Blend, ripen race on race; The sunburnt world a man shall breed Of all the zones, and countless days, No ray is dimmed, no atom worn; My oldest force is good as new; And the fresh rose on yonder thorn Gives back the bending heavens in dew.
Side 41 - But it is apt to spoil two good things — a story and a moral, a meaning and a form...
Side 42 - A story there passeth of an Indian king that sent unto Alexander a fair woman, fed with aconite and other poisons, with this intent complexionally to destroy him!

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