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Wen da der Dichter hineingesperrt Den kann kein Gott mehr retten. And from the "singing flames" of Rodin there is no rescue. But he is not all tragedy and hell fire. Of singular delicacy, of exquisite proportions are his marbles of youth, of springtide, and the desire of life. In 1900, at his special exhibition, Paris, Europe, and America awoke to these haunting visions.
Few could forget, after once hearing them, the stanzas at the close of “Deutschland,” in which he warns the King of Prussia not to incur the irredeemable hell which the injured poet can create for him—the singing flames of a Dante’s terza rima! “Kennst du die Hölle des Dante nicht, Die schrecklichen Terzetten? Wen da der Dichter hineingesperrt Den kann kein Gott mehr retten.
You think because I dislike one squalid village "The Wen," stout English William Cobbett delighted to call it I don't love England. You think because I see some spots on the sun of the English character, I don't love Englishmen. Why, how can any man who speaks the English tongue, and boasts one drop of English blood in his veins, not be proud of England?
John Smauker. 'Gentlemen, my friend Mr. Weller. 'Sorry to keep the fire off you, Weller, said Mr. Tuckle, with a familiar nod. 'Hope you're not cold, Weller. 'Not by no means, Blazes, replied Sam. 'It 'ud be a wery chilly subject as felt cold wen you stood opposite. You'd save coals if they put you behind the fender in the waitin'-room at a public office, you would.
Li Wen continued: What time spring comes the handle of the Dipper turns. The bleaky hills have long ago their verdure lost. Chou-yen proceeded: On a frost-covered stream, no tide can ever rise. Easy the snow hangs on the sparse-leaved willow twigs. Hsiang-yuen pursued: Hard 'tis for snow to pile on broken plantain leaves. The coal, musk-scented, burns in the precious tripod.
And so it goes. When a man wakes up, he does not wake up in a part of his body only, he wakes up all over. So it seems with Cathay. The more serious problem now is not to get her moving, but to keep her from moving too rapidly. In his Civic Forum address in New York three years ago, Wu Ting Fang quoted Wen Hsiang's saying, "When China wakes up, she will move like an avalanche."
W'at time does yo'all wan' breakfas' in de mornin'? An' wen Massa Miles wen' no'th to mak' his fo'tune, he told Bob, 'Bob, I'se leavin' dis heah hous' in youah keer. An', Miss 'Chanda, we done look aftah Pirate's Haven evah since, mah gran'pappy, mah pappy, Sam an' me." Ricky held out her hand. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You see, we don't understand very well, we've been away so long."
"My ma 'ad a grite friend, sold winkles; 'er 'usbin was lost at sea for years and years, till just wen she was comfortably settled with 'er second, along 'e comes, as large as loife. Besides, I've read of such things in the Princess Novelettes; only there it's most generally lovers, not 'usbins, nor yet fathers. Would you know yours again, if you seen 'im?"
This was the inn where Tony Weller, resplendent in many layers of cloth cape and huge brimmed hat, stopped "wen he drove up" on the box seat of one of the stage coaches of the period. But the anecdote related by his son of how he was hoodwinked into taking out a licence to marry Mrs.
Ole Hannah dat lib wid you says dat you'se gittin' a lot ob beaux. Why, you eben make a 'pression on dat big, 'ansome Northern chap, ole Houghton's son, wen you doan know it. More'n once he ax me which de cakes you make, an' wen I tell him, he wanter buy dem all." "That's very funny," Ella said, and there was the old mirthful ring in her laugh. "You know him?" Aun' Sheba asked, quickly.
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