United States or Cook Islands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
There was no hope; but he made one resolve and made it grimly in words that never reached his lips. "Give me half a chance at them, Walt," he promised, "and if ever you do get inside here, you'll know where I've been. I'll find the girl first I must do that then I'll give these devils something to remember me by before they put us away for good!"
"Why, you cold-blooded savage!" scoffed Ned. "The idea!" "You'll see. I'd have done it, myself, if I'd had my gun," declared Stacy bravely. "Good thing for you that your gun was in camp, instead of in your holster." "Yes; I'd have lost the gun when the pony went down. Poor pony! Say, Walt," he murmured, leaning over toward his companion. "Well, out with it!"
Two anarchs of music, Richard Strauss and Arnold Schoenberg, reached their goals after marching successfully through the established forms: and the prose versicles of Walt Whitman were achieved only after he had practised the ordinary rules of prosody.
"How many men d'ye s'pose they've got in there?" he asked finally. "Reck'n they could scrape up 'bout twenty-five, in th' time they've had," Walt answered. "An' some o' 'em shepherds, an' rotten shots, an' they's fifty o' us," Buck put in. He was eager for action. "Well, I come here t' fight, an' I'm paid for it," said Mart Cooley.
He knew that magnetic rails made a grillwork that surrounded the car and that drew it on at terrific speed while suspending it in air. But he would infinitely have preferred the freedom of the high levels, and his own hand on a ship's controls. A ship! any ship! but preferably his ship and Walt's. And Walt had said something of "storage cold storage."
Walt won in the end, and his victory was most probably due to the fact that he was a man, though Madge averred that they would have had another quarter of a mile of gurgling brook, and at least two west winds sighing through their redwoods, had Wait properly devoted his energies to song-transmutation and left Wolf alone to exercise a natural taste and an unbiassed judgment.
As this is unusual with the ex-Ranger, he has evidently something of importance to communicate. Not until they have got well out of sight of the house, and beyond the earshot of anyone inside or around it, does Walt say a word. And then only after they have come to a stop in the heart of a cotton-wood copse, where a prostrate trunk offers them the accommodation of a seat.
Now Emerson was an anarch who flouted the conventions of art and life. It was his hope to see the soul of this world "clean from all vestige of tradition." He did not understand that what is? proceeded inevitably from what was He affected to spurn the past as a clog upon his individuality. Anticipating Walt Whitman, he would have driven away his nearest friends, saying, "Who are you?
Some men make themselves homes; and others there be who rent rooms. Walt Whitman was essentially a citizen of the world: the world was his home and mankind were his friends. There was a quality in the man peculiarly universal: a strong, virile poise that asked for nothing, but took what it needed.
Like Walt Whitman's, his early poetry was orthodox, well groomed, and uninteresting. It produced no effect on the public, but it produced upon its author a mental condition of acute discontent the necessary conviction of sin preceding regeneration.
Word Of The Day