More from William Dean Howells

  1. Her mouth is a honey-blossom, No doubt, as the poet sings; But within her lips, the petals, Lurks a cruel bee that stings.
  2. See how today's achievement is only tomorrow's confusion; See how possession always cheapens the thing that was precious.
  3. And before you know me gone Eternity and I are one.
  4. The wrecks of slavery are fast growing a fungus crop of sentiment.
  5. 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…
  6. The mortality of all inanimate things is terrible to me, but that of books most of all.
  7. We live, but a world has passed away With the years that perished to make us men.
  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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