Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. ( 10 of 44 )
Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame?
A fitful tongue of leaping flame;
A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust,
read more
Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame?
A fitful tongue of leaping flame;
A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust,
That lifts a pinch of mortal dust;
A few swift years, and who can show
Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe?
There are a good many real miseries in life that we cannot help
smiling at, but they are the read more
There are a good many real miseries in life that we cannot help
smiling at, but they are the smiles that make wrinkles and not
dimples.
The world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor
its great scholars great men.
The world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor
its great scholars great men.
There are three wicks you know to the lamp of a man's life:
brain, blood, and breath. Press the read more
There are three wicks you know to the lamp of a man's life:
brain, blood, and breath. Press the brain a little, its light
goes out, followed by both the others. Stop the heart a minute,
and out go all three of the wicks. Choke the air out of the
lungs, and presently the fluid ceases to supply the other centres
of flame, and all is soon stagnation, cold, and darkness.
Vain? Let it be so! Nature was her teacher,
What if a lovely and unsistered creature
Loved read more
Vain? Let it be so! Nature was her teacher,
What if a lovely and unsistered creature
Loved her own harmless gift of pleasing feature.
- Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.,
Stop not, unthinking, every friend you meet
To spin your wordy fabric in the street;
While you read more
Stop not, unthinking, every friend you meet
To spin your wordy fabric in the street;
While you are emptying your colloquial pack,
The fiend Lumbago jumps upon his back.
Ay, here her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has read more
Ay, here her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky.
Grave is the Master's look; his forehead wears
Thick rows of wrinkles, prints of worrying cares:
Uneasy read more
Grave is the Master's look; his forehead wears
Thick rows of wrinkles, prints of worrying cares:
Uneasy lies the heads of all that rule,
His worst of all whose kingdom is a school.
Supreme he sits; before the awful frown
That binds his brows the boldest eye goes down;
Not more submissive Israel heard and saw
At Sinai's foot the Giver of the Law.
Every library should try to be complete on something, if it were
only the history of pinheads.
Every library should try to be complete on something, if it were
only the history of pinheads.
Our Union is river, lake, ocean, and sky:
Man breaks not the medal, when God cuts the die!
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Our Union is river, lake, ocean, and sky:
Man breaks not the medal, when God cuts the die!
Though darkened with sulphur, though cloven with steel,
The blue arch will brighten, the waters will heal!
