Boni and Liveright, 1924 - 140 pàgines
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Pàgina xxvi - On a poet's lips I slept, Dreaming like a love-adept In the sound his breathing kept. Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, But feeds on the aerial kisses Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses. He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, Nor heed nor see what things they be : But from these create he can Forms more real than living man, Nurslings of immortality.
Pàgina xxxi - The past and present wilt - I have fill'd them, emptied them, And proceed to fill my next fold of the future. Listener up there! what have you to confide to me? Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening, (Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.) Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes...
Pàgina xxxii - I must create a system or be enslav'd by another man's. I will not reason and compare: my business is to create.
Pàgina xxx - Improvement makes straight roads, but the crooked roads without improvement are roads of genius.
Pàgina 93 - And hunters were sulky and hounds out of tune Before we tufted the right stag forth Before we tufted him forth, The stag of warrant, the wily stag, The runnable stag with his kingly crop, Brow, bay and tray and three on top, The royal and runnable stag. It was Bell-of-the-North and Tinkerman's Pup That stuck to the scent till the copse was drawn. 'Tally ho! tally ho!
Pàgina 48 - As easy as you take a drink, it's true; But the difficultest go to understand, And the difficultest job a man can do, Is to come it brave and meek with thirty bob a week, And feel that that's the proper thing for you.
Pàgina 41 - But soon her fire to ashes burned; Her beauty changed to haggardness; Her golden hair to silver turned; The hour came of her last caress. At midnight from her lonely bed She rose, and said, "I have had my will.
Pàgina xxx - The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God. The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. The nakedness of woman is the work of God.
Pàgina 54 - I cannot see the stars and flowers, Nor hear the lark's soprano ring, Because a ruddy darkness lowers For ever, and the tempests sing. I see the strong coerce the weak, And labour overwrought rebel; I hear the useless treadmill creak, The prisoner, cursing in his cell...
Pàgina 95 - ... his nostrils wide again, And he toss'd his branching antlers high As he headed the hunt down the Charlock glen, As he raced down the echoing glen — For five miles more, the stag, the stag, For twenty miles, and five and five, Not to be caught now, dead or alive, The stag, the runnable stag.

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