More from William Dean Howells

  1. Lord, for the erring thought Not into evil wrought: Lord, for the wicked will Betrayed and baffled still: For the heart from itself kept, O…
  2. Her mouth is a honey-blossom, No doubt, as the poet sings; But within her lips, the petals, Lurks a cruel bee that stings.
  3. We live, but a world has passed away With the years that perished to make us men.
  4. He who sleeps in continual noise is wakened by silence.
  5. See how today's achievement is only tomorrow's confusion; See how possession always cheapens the thing that was precious.
  6. The wrecks of slavery are fast growing a fungus crop of sentiment.
  7. The mortality of all inanimate things is terrible to me, but that of books most of all.
  8. I am not sorry for having wrought in common, crude material so much; that is the right American stuff; and perhaps hereafter, when my din i…

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