The Only Hero Known To My Childhood

... I Suppose That The Party Or Sect Which Is To Do Any Work In The World Must Breathe Its Own Peculiar Atmosphere, Speak Its Own Little Patois, And See But One Side Of The Question On Which It Fights.

The Sun, The Earth, Love, Friends, Our Very Breath Are Parts Of The Banquet.

America May Have Great Poets And Novelists, But She Never Will Have More Than One Necromancer.

The New Englander Landed On A Stony, Barren Tract, And A Large Share Of His Strength During Two Centuries Has Gone To Force A Living Out Of It. Hence He Has Come To Regard Economy - A Necessary Unpleasant Quality At Best - As The Chief Of Virtues. He Has Cultivated Habits Which Verge On Closeness In Dealing With Food, And With The Expression Of Feeling, And Even - His Enemies Think - With Feeling Itself.

Sitting By The Chimney Corner As We Grow Old, The Commonest Things Around Us Take On Live Meanings And Hint At The Difference Between These Driving Times And The Calm, Slow Moving Days When We Were Young.