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Carl recalled Abraham Lincoln and Golden-Rule Jones and Walt Whitman on the subject of the Common People, though as to what these sages had said he was vague. Ruth burst out: "Oh, you can talk all you like about theories, but just the same, in real life most people are common as dirt. And just about as admissible to Society.
"I must not confuse my public. Just as a favor to me, Ralph, say nothing about it." "Well, if you'd rather I didn't.... Are you going to cover this meeting at Hunters' Hall, tonight, Walt?" he asked me. "Would I miss it?" He frowned. "I could handle that myself," he said. "I'm afraid this meeting's going to get a little rough." I shook my head. "Let's face it, Dad," I said.
THIS was the achievement of this Christian paradox of the parallel passions. Granted the primary dogma of the war between divine and diabolic, the revolt and ruin of the world, their optimism and pessimism, as pure poetry, could be loosened like cataracts. St. Francis, in praising all good, could be a more shouting optimist than Walt Whitman. St.
It was Bish Ware's voice: "Walt, get hold of the Kivelsons and get them out of Hunters' Hall as fast as you can," he said. "I just got a tip from one of my ... my parishioners. Ravick's going to stage a riot to give Hallstock's cops an excuse to raid the meeting. They want the Kivelsons." "Roger."
It isn't of the nature of growth. Why not do it the way of Silas Morton and Walt Whitman each man being his purest and intensest self. I was full of this fervour when you came in. I'm more and more disappointed in our students. They're empty flippant. No sensitive moment opens them to beauty. No exaltation makes them what they hadn't known they were. I concluded some of the fault must be mine.
"Yes, I guess our minds have been so full of other things that our stomachs have not had a chance to make their wants known," said Tad. "How about you, Walt?" "What I want most of anything in the world just at this minute, is to see daylight. Isn't night outside yet, is it?" "No, it is only just past noon," the miner informed him.
Back of it and to the left was a raised water tank, and into the lower part of this the shots were directed. As the men wormed their way back through the scrub, and around the hill, thin streams of water began to trickle from the tank. "If we have t' stick 'round awhile, we'll leave 'em some thirsty, anyhow," said Walt.
Her Walt uttered a guttural greeting in the Taal, and displayed uncared-for and moss-grown teeth in the smile that Emigration Jane found strangely fascinating.
Bryce gives another proof of his eminent sanity and good sense by his avoidance of the tempting error. But, as Walt Whitman says, "The pulse-beats of the nation are never to be found in the sure-to-be-put-forward-on-such-occasions citizens."
And are all the women like Arline?" Manley looked at her dumbly from the sofa. Would Val ever come to understand the place, and the people, he was wondering. She laughed suddenly. "I'm beginning to feel very sorry for Walt," she said irrelevantly, pointing to the easel and the expressionless crayon portrait staring out from the gilt frame. "He has to stay in this room always.
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