The Wilson Bulletin, 第 3 卷

H.W. Wilson Company, 1926
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第 593 頁 - I hold every man a debtor to his profession; from the which, as men of course do seek to receive countenance and profit, so ought they of duty to endeavor themselves, by way of amends, to be a help and ornament thereunto.
第 633 頁 - Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits — and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
第 633 頁 - You are old, Father William," the young man said, "And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head — Do you think, at your age, it is right?" "In my youth," Father William replied to his son, "I feared it might injure the brain; But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none, Why, I do it again and again.
第 687 頁 - He ate and drank the precious words, His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust. He danced along the dingy days, And this bequest of wings Was but a book. What liberty A loosened spirit brings!
第 594 頁 - I think the test of obscenity is this: whether the tendency of the matter charged as obscenity is to deprave and corrupt those whose minds are open to such immoral influences, and into whose hands a publication of this sort may fall.
第 157 頁 - Jes' you stan' an' listen wif me When Malindy sings. Ain't you nevah hyeahd Malindy? Blessed soul, tek up de cross! Look hyeah, ain't you jokin', honey? Well, you don't know whut you los'. Y' ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa'blin', Robins, la'ks, an' all dem things, Heish dey moufs an' hides dey faces When Malindy sings. Fiddlin
第 157 頁 - I MUST go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking...
第 687 頁 - AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
第 542 頁 - When I face that fatal manuscript it seems to me that I have forgotten how to think — worse! how to write. It is as if something in my head had given way to let in a cold grey mist. I knock about blindly in it till I am positively, physically sick — and then I give up saying — tomorrow! and tomorrow comes — and brings only the renewed and futile agony.
第 108 頁 - It is content to plod on, year after year, giving wholesome and harmless entertainment to crowds of hard-working people craving for a little fun and amusement. It is quite humble and unpretentious. That is my journalism.