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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Do you know either the plaintiff or the defendant in this case?" "I do not, sir. I never saw either of them until to-day." "Has any one told you about the nature of these papers, so as to prejudice your mind in regard to any of them?" "No, sir. I have not exchanged a word with any one in regard to them." "What is your opinion of the two letters?" "That they are veritable autographs."
"It was a Yankee invented that tale about your not being able to prevaricate, wasn't it, George?" asked Diogenes. Washington smiled acquiescence, and Doctor Johnson returned to Shakespeare. "I'd rather have a morning-glory vine than one of Shakespeare's autographs," said he. "They are far prettier, and quite as legible." "Mortals wouldn't," said Bonaparte. "What fools they be!" chuckled Johnson.
When I went to the place, I could see the delicate tracery of their feet on the snow, as if they had been writing their autographs on an untarnished scroll. Two tiny footprints at regular intervals, one a little before the other, and each pair connected with the next by a slender thread or two traced by the bird's claws that is a junco's or a tree sparrow's trail in the snow.
"I've helped you till I'm tired," said Benson, turning and regarding him, "and it is all to no good. If you've got into a mess, get out of it. You should not be so fond of giving autographs away." "It's foolish, I admit," said Carr, deliberately. "I won't do so any more. By the way, I've got some to sell. You needn't sneer. They're not my own." "Whose are they?" inquired the other. "Yours."
The Lieutenant-Governor fell back a step, and covered his face with his hands. For a full minute there was absolute silence. Rathbawne had returned to the table, and, with his fore-arms across the back of a chair, and one foot on the lower cross-bar, was staring vacantly at his autographs, his hands moulding and remoulding each other into an infinity of forms.
Whenever we sailed around to visit our friends or the big men we had them write their autographs on the canvas wings of the machine. Those autographs alone were worth about a million, more or less!" "What's this?" put in Belright Fogg, quickly. "A flying machine valuable because of the autographs on it? Preposterous!
They intimate the classic temper to which his mind tended more and more, and amidst the multitude of sculptures, pictures, prints, drawings, gems, medals, autographs, there is the sense of the many-mindedness, the universal taste, for which he found room in little Weimar, but not in his contemporaneous Germany.
Natalie and her father were bending low over a great portfolio, their heads close together in the yellow glow of the table-lamp, which was the only light in the room. Rathbawne looked up with a grim smile, as the Lieutenant-Governor entered. "Pottering over my autographs, again, you see," he remarked. "I've been neglecting them shamefully, of late eh, Natalie? Didn't have the time.
The winter twilight is falling, a lamp has been lit, there is a fire on the hearth, and the room is pleasantly dim and flower-scented. Dale, at her desk, with papers strewn about her, takes up one of the wall-panels. Before Mrs. Dale stands Hilda, fair and twenty, her hands full of letters. Mrs. Dale. Ten more applications for autographs?
Vrain-Lucas offered to M. Chasles autographs of Vercingetorix, Cleopatra, and Saint Mary Magdalene, duly signed, and with the flourishes complete: here, thought M. Chasles, are autographs of Vercingetorix, Cleopatra, and Saint Mary Magdalene. This is one of the most universal, and at the same time indestructible, forms of public credulity.
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