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Updated: May 11, 2025
It is of greater importance to note that the malice which endured the toil of sowing tares in a neighbour's field grows yet, and grows rankly in human breasts. In different ages and regions, that spiritual wickedness may clothe itself in bodies of diverse mould and hue, but it is in all times and places the same foul and malignant spirit, acting according to its kind.
That acorn which you crushed will turn into mould, and that mould will go to feed the roots of some plant, perhaps next year, if it lies where it is; or perhaps it will be washed into the brook, and then into the river, and go down to the sea, and will feed the roots of some plant in some new continent ages and ages hence: and so Madam How will have her own again.
Whatever else His message may have been, it was, first of all, a message to the men of His own day; therefore, of necessity, it was their language He used, it was to their needs He ministered, it was their sins He condemned. The mould, the tone, the colouring of His teaching were all largely determined by the life of His country and His time.
Through this intimate association I became a little Mr. Pound. How could it have been otherwise when day after day, books in hand, I walked down to his house to recite my lesson of Latin and Greek, and with him worked through the mysteries of algebraic calculation and studied the strange habits of the right line? He pressed me into his mould. Years went by.
Hark to their echo, as it crost The Capital, making faces wan: End this murderous holocaust; Abraham Lincoln, give us a MAN! Give us a man of God's own mould, Born to marshal his fellow-men; One whose fame is not bought and sold At the stroke of a politician's pen; Give us the man of thousands ten, Fit to do as well as to plan; Give us a rallying-cry, and then, Abraham Lincoln, give us a MAN!
There was an old fountain near, its stone rim and centre of rock-work green with immemorial mould, and its basin quivering between its water-plants under the soft fall of spray. At a waft of fitful breeze some leaves of early autumn fell from the trees overhead upon the elderly pair where they sat, and a little company of sparrows came and hopped about their feet.
The forest odors, beloved of souls that are epicures of poesy, who delight in the tiny mosses, the noxious fungi, the moist mould, the willows, the balsams, the wild thyme, the green waters of a pond, the golden star of the yellow water-lily, the breath of all such vigorous propagations came to my nostrils and filled me with a single thought; was it their soul?
Take a pound of sugar, dissolve it in thin fair water, when it is boiled a little while, put in your Cherries after they are stoned, four pound to one pound of Sugar, let them lye in the Sugar three dayes, then take them out of the syrup and lay them on sieves one by one, and set them before the Sun upon stools, turn them every day, else they will mould; when they look of a dark red colour, and are dry then put them up.
What she wished to see, she thought, was the clash of interests, the interests of forty millions of people and a whole continent, centering at Washington; guided, restrained, controlled, or unrestrained and uncontrollable, by men of ordinary mould; the tremendous forces of government, and the machinery of society, at work. What she wanted, was POWER.
Ashes wouldn't hurt any one if taken in moderation; you couldn't see the mould in a perfectly dark hotel; and the bread was good. The feast was prolonged until a late hour, but the finger tips that had accurately counted money in a dark pocket could ascertain in a dark hotel that a store of food still remained. He pulled the blankets about him and sank comfortably to rest.
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