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Title: Widger's Quotations from the Project Gutenberg Editions of the Works of William Dean Howells

Author: William Dean Howells

Editor: David Widger

Release date: October 1, 2002 [eBook #3483]

Most recently updated: January 8, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3483

Credits: This etext was produced by David Widger

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIDGER'S QUOTATIONS FROM THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITIONS OF THE WORKS OF WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS ***

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This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>

WIDGER'S QUOTATIONS

FROM THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION OF THE WORKS OF WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS

THESE BOOKS OF WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS ARE PRESENTLY LISTED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG:

STUDIES:

Henry James, Jr.

The Man of Letters as a Man of Business

A Psychological Counter-current in Recent Fiction.

Emile Zola

Literary Friends and Acquaintances

Biographical

My First Visit to New England

First Impressions of Literary New York

Roundabout to Boston

Literary Boston As I Knew It

Oliver Wendell Holmes

The White Mr. Longfellow

Studies of Lowell

Cambridge Neighbors

A Belated Guest

My Mark Twain

Literature and Life

Man of Letters in Business

Confessions of a Summer Colonist

The Young Contributor

Last Days in a Dutch Hotel

Anomalies of the Short Story

Spanish Prisoners of War

American Literary Centers

Standard Household Effect Co.

Notes of a Vanished Summer

Worries of a Winter Walk

Summer Isles of Eden

Wild Flowers of the Asphalt

A Circus in the Suburbs

A She Hamlet

The Midnight Platoon

The Beach at Rockaway

Sawdust in the Arena

At a Dime Museum

American Literature in Exile

The Horse Show

The Problem of the Summer

Aesthetic New York Fifty-odd Years Ago

From New York into New England

The Art of the Adsmith

The Psychology of Plagiarism

Puritanism in American Fiction

The What and How in Art

Politics in American Authors

Storage

"Floating down the River on the O-hi-o"

My Literary Passions

The Bookcase at Home

Goldsmith

Cervantes

Irving

First Fiction and Drama

Longfellow's "Spanish Student"

Scott

Lighter Fancies

Pope

Various Preferences

Uncle Tom's Cabin

Ossian

Shakespeare

Ik Marvel

Dickens

Wordsworth, Lowell, Chaucer

Macaulay.

Critics and Reviews.

A Non-literary Episode

Thackeray

"Lazarillo De Tormes"

Curtis, Longfellow, Schlegel

Tennyson

Heine

De Quincey, Goethe, Longfellow.

George Eliot, Hawthorne, Goethe, Heine

Charles Reade

Dante

Goldoni, Manzoni, D'azeglio

"Pastor Fido," "Aminta," "Romola," "Yeast," "Paul Ferroll"

Erckmann-chatrian, Bjorstjerne Bjornson

Tourguenief, Auerbach

Certain Preferences and Experiences

Valdes, Galdos, Verga, Zola, Trollope, Hardy

Tolstoy

Criticism and Fiction

NOVELS:

The Rise of Silas Lapham

An Open-eyed Conspiracy—an Idyl of Saratoga

The Landlord at Lions Head, v1

The Landlord at Lions Head, v2

Their Wedding Journey

The Outset

A Midsummer-day's Dream

The Night Boat

A Day's Railroading

The Enchanted City, and Beyond

Niagara

Down the St. Lawrence

The Sentiment of Montreal

Homeward and Home

Niagara Revisited Twelve Years after Their Wedding

A Hazard of New Fortunes

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Their Silver Wedding Journey

Volume 1

Volume 2

Volume 3

Dr. Breen's Practice

Fennel and Rue,

The Kentons

Ragged Lady, v1

Ragged Lady, v2

April Hopes

PLAYS:

The Sleeping-Car

The Garotters

The Elevator

The Parlor-Car

The Register

QUOTATIONS HAVE BEEN TAKEN FROM THE FOLLOWING FILES:

Sep 2002 Ragged Lady, V2, by William Dean Howells [WH#52][wh2rl10.txt]3406

Sep 2002 Ragged Lady, V1, by William Dean Howells [WH#51][wh1rl10.txt]3405

Sep 2002 April Hopes, by William Dean Howells [WH#50][whapr10.txt]3404

Aug 2002 Entire PG Edition Of William Dean Howells [WH#47][whewk10.txt]3400

Aug 2002 Of Literature—Entire, by W. D. Howells [WH#46][whlfr10.txt]3399

Aug 2002 First Visit To New England, by W. Howells [WH#45][whvne10.txt]3398

[Full Title: My First Visit To New England, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

CONTENTS:

Bibliographical

My First Visit To New England

First Impressions Of Literary New York

Aug 2002 Roundabout To Boston, by W. D. Howells [WH#44][whrtb10.txt]3397

[Full Title: Roundabout To Boston, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Literary Boston, by William Dean Howells [WH#43][whbos10.txt]3396

[Full Title: Literary Boston As I Knew It, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Oliver Wendell Holmes, by W. D. Howells [WH#42][whowh10.txt]3395

[Full Title: Oliver Wendell Holmes, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 The White Mr. Longfellow, by W. Howells [WH#41][whlng10.txt]3394

[Full Title: The White Mr. Longfellow, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Studies Of Lowell, by William Dean Howells [WH#40][whlow10.txt]3393

[Full Title: Studies Of Lowell, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Cambridge Neighbors, by W. D. Howells [WH#39][whcbn10.txt]3392

[Full Title: Cambridge Neighbors, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 A Belated Guest, by Willam Dean Howells [WH#38][whabg10.txt]3391

[Full Title: A Belated Guest, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 My Mark Twain, by Willam Dean Howells [WH#37][whmmt10.txt]3390

[Full Title: My Mark Twain, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Complete Literature And Life, by Howells [WH#36][whlal10.txt]3389

[Full Title: Literature And Life [Studies] by W. D. Howells, 1911]

CONTENTS:

Man of Letters in Business

Confessions of a Summer Colonist

The Young Contributor

Last Days in a Dutch Hotel

Anomalies of the Short Story

Spanish Prisoners of War

American Literary Centers

Standard Household Effect Co.

Notes of a Vanished Summer

Worries of a Winter Walk

Summer Isles of Eden

Wild Flowers of the Asphalt

A Circus in the Suburbs

A She Hamlet

The Midnight Platoon

The Beach at Rockaway

Sawdust in the Arena

At a Dime Museum

American Literature in Exile

The Horse Show

The Problem of the Summer

Aesthetic New York Fifty-odd Years Ago

From New York into New England

The Art of the Adsmith

The Psychology of Plagiarism

Puritanism in American Fiction

The What and How in Art

Politics in American Authors

Storage

"Floating down the River on the O-hi-o"

Aug 2002 Man Of Letters In Business, by W. Howells [WH#35][whmlb10.txt]3388

[Full Title: The Man Of Letters As A Man Of Business by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Confessions Of Summer Colonist, by Howells [WH#34][whcsc10.txt]3387

[Full Title: Confessions Of A Summer Colonist W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 The Young Contributor, by W. D. Howells [WH#33][whtyc10.txt]3386

[Full Title: The Editor's Relations With The Young Contributor by W. D.

Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Last Days In A Dutch Hotel, by W. Howells [WH#32][whldh10.txt]3385

[Full Title: Last Days In A Dutch Hotel by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Anomalies Of The Short Story, by Howells [WH#31][whass10.txt]3384

[Full Title: Some Anomalies Of The Short Story by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Spanish Prisoners Of War, by W. Howells [WH#30][whspw10.txt]3383

[Full Title: Spanish Prisoners Of War by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 American Literary Centers, by W. Howells [WH#29][whalc10.txt]3382

[Full Title: American Literary Centers, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Standard Household Effect Co., by Howells [WH#28][whshe10.txt]3381

[Full Title: The Standard Household-Effect Company, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Notes Of A Vanished Summer, by W. Howells [WH#27][whvan10.txt]3380

[Full Title: Stacatto Notes Of A Vanished Summer, by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Short Stories And Essays, by W. Howells [WH#26][whsse10.txt]3379

[Full Title: Literature And Life [Studies] W. D. Howells, 1911]

CONTENTS:

Worries of a Winter Walk

Summer Isles of Eden

Wild Flowers of the Asphalt

A Circus in the Suburbs

A She Hamlet

The Midnight Platoon

The Beach at Rockaway

Sawdust in the Arena

At a Dime Museum

American Literature in Exile

The Horse Show

The Problem of the Summer

Aesthetic New York Fifty-odd Years Ago

From New York into New England

The Art of the Adsmith

The Psychology of Plagiarism

Puritanism in American Fiction

The What and How in Art

Politics in American Authors

Storage

"Floating down the River on the O-hi-o"

Aug 2002 My Literary Passions, by W. D. Howells [WH#25][whmlp10.txt]3378

[Full Title: My Literary Passions/Criticism & Fiction by W. D. Howells, 1910]

Aug 2002 Criticism and Fiction, by W. D. Howells [WH#24][whcaf10.txt]3377

[Full Title: My Literary Passions/Criticism & Fiction by W. D. Howells, 1910]

Aug 2002 The Landlord At Lions Head V2, by Howells [WH#23][wh2lh10.txt]3376

Aug 2002 The Landlord At Lions Head V1, by Howells [WH#22][wh1lh10.txt]3375

[Full Title: The Landlord At Lion's Head by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 The Entire March Family Trilogy, by Howells[WH#21][whemf10.txt]3374

CONTENTS:

Their Wedding Journey

A Hazard Of New Fortunes

Their Silver Wedding Journey

Aug 2002 Silver Wedding Journey V3 by W. D. Howells [WH#20][wh3sw10.txt]3373

[Full Title: Their Silver Wedding Journey, by W. D. Howells, 1900]

Aug 2002 Silver Wedding Journey V2, by W. D. Howells[WH#19][wh2sw10.txt]3372

[Full Title: Their Silver Wedding Journey, by W. D. Howells, 1900]

Aug 2002 Silver Wedding Journey V1, by W. D. Howells[WH#18][wh1sw10.txt]3371

[Full Title: Their Silver Wedding Journey, by W. D. Howells, 1900]

Aug 2002 A Hazard Of New Fortunes V5, by W. Howells [WH#17][wh5nf10.txt]3370

[Full Title: A Hazard Of New Fortunes by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 A Hazard Of New Fortunes V4, by W. Howells [WH#16][wh4nf10.txt]3369

[Full Title: A Hazard Of New Fortunes by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 A Hazard Of New Fortunes V3, by W. Howells [WH#15][wh3nf10.txt]3368

[Full Title: A Hazard Of New Fortunes by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 A Hazard Of New Fortunes V2, by W. Howells [WH#14][wh2nf10.txt]3367

[Full Title: A Hazard Of New Fortunes by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 A Hazard Of New Fortunes V1, by W. Howells [WH#13][wh1nf10.txt]3366

[Full Title: A Hazard Of New Fortunes by W. D. Howells, 1911]

Aug 2002 Their Wedding Journey, by W. D. Howells [WH#12][whtwj10.txt]3365

[Full Title: Their Wedding Journey, by W. D. Howells, 1895]

Aug 2002 Dr. Breen's Practice, by W. D. Howells [WH#11][whdbp10.txt]3364

[Full Title: Dr. Breen's Practice, by W. D. Howells, 1881]

Aug 2002 Fennel And Rue, by William Dean Howells [WH#10][whfar10.txt]3363

[Full Title: Fennel And Rue, by W. D. Howells, 1908]

Aug 2002 The Kentons, by William Dean Howells [WH#09][whken10.txt]3362

[Full Title: The Kentons, by W. D. Howells, 1902]

EDITOR'S NOTE

Readers well acquainted with the works of William Dean Howells may wish to see if their favorite passages are listed in this selection. The etext editor will be glad to add your suggestions. One of the advantages of internet over paper publication is the ease of quick revision.

All the titles may be found using the Project Gutenberg search engine. After downloading a specific file, the location and complete context of the quotations may be found by inserting a small part of the quotation into the 'Find' or 'Search' functions of the user's word processing program.

The quotations are in two formats: 1. Small passages from the text. 2. A list of alphabetized one-liners.

The editor may be contacted at <widger@cecomet.net> for comments, questions or suggested additions to these extracts.

D.W.

WIDGER'S QUOTATIONS

THE KENTONS

[WH#09][whken10.txt]3362

"Well, that's good," said the young man, and while he talked on she sat wondering at a nature which all modesty and deference seemed left out of, though he had sometimes given evidence of his intellectual appreciation of these things.

She was polite to them all, but to Boyne she was flattering, and he was too little used to deference from ladies ten years his senior not to be very sensible of her worth in offering it.

She in turn, to be sure, offered herself a sacrifice to the whims of the sick girl, whose worst whim was having no wish that could be ascertained, and who now, after two days of her mother's devotion, was cast upon her own resources by the inconstant barometer.

It was more difficult for Mrs. Kenton to get rid of the judge, but an inscrutable frown goes far in such exigencies.

FENNEL AND RUE

[WH#10][whfar10.txt]3363

I used almost to die of hunger for something to happen.

She had downed the hoary superstition that people had too much of a good time on Christmas to want any good time at all in the week following; and in acting upon the well-known fact that you never wanted a holiday so much as the day after you had one, she had made a movement of the highest social importance.

She added, less sharply: "She couldn't afford to fail, though, at any point. The fad that fails is extinguished forever. Will these simple facts do for fiction? Or is it for somebody in real life you're asking, Mr. Verrian?"

DR. BREEN'S PRACTICE

[WH#11][whdbp10.txt]3364

The neat weather-gray dwellings, shingled to the ground and brightened with door-yard flowers and creepers, straggled off into the boat-houses and fishing-huts on the shore, and the village seemed to get afloat at last in the sloops and schooners riding in the harbor, whose smooth plane rose higher to the eye than the town itself.

Very probably Dr. Mulbridge would not have recognized himself in the character of all-compelling lady's-novel hero, which Miss Gleason imagined for him.

Dr. Mulbridge smiled, as if he perceived her intention not to tell him something she wished to tell him.

"I believe that if Mrs. Maynard had had the same confidence in me that she would have had in any man I should not have failed. But every woman physician has a double disadvantage that I hadn't the strength to overcome,—her own inexperience and the distrust of other women."

THEIR WEDDING JOURNEY

[WH#12][whtwj10.txt]3365

In the distance on either hand they could see cars and carts and wagons toiling up and down the avenues, and on the next intersecting pavement sometimes a laborer with his jacket slung across his shoulder, or a dog that had plainly made up his mind to go mad.

Then it appeared that the cook would not believe in them, and he did not send them, till they were quite faint, the peppery and muddy draught which impudently affected to be coffee, the oily slices of fugacious potatoes slipping about in their shallow dish and skillfully evading pursuit, the pieces of beef that simulated steak, the hot, greasy biscuit, steaming evilly up into the face when opened, and then soddening into masses of condensed dyspepsia.

"No," said Basil, not yet used to having his decisions reached without his knowledge.

In a moment it had come, the first serious dispute of their wedded life. It had come as all such calamities come, from nothing, and it was on them in full disaster ere they knew.

(A reader suggested this additional quote:) I suppose that almost any evil commends itself by its ruin; the wrecks of slavery are fast growing a fungus crop of sentiment.

A HAZARD OF NEW FORTUNES, V1

[WH#13][wh1nf10.txt]3366

She was a little worn out with the care of housekeeping—Mrs. March breathed, "Oh yes!" in the sigh with which ladies recognize one another's martyrdom—

He experienced remorse in the presence of inanimate things he was going to leave as if they had sensibly reproached him, and an anticipative homesickness that seemed to stop his heart.

They were at that time of life when people first turn to their children's opinion with deference.

He expected to do the wrong thing when left to his own devices, and he did it without any apparent recollection of his former misdeeds and their consequences. There was a good deal of comedy in it all, and some tragedy.

She expected him in this event to do as he pleased, and she resigned herself to it with considerable comfort in holding him accountable. He learned to expect this, and after suffering keenly from her disappointment with whatever he did he waited patiently till she forgot her grievance and began to extract what consolation lurks in the irreparable.

A HAZARD OF NEW FORTUNES, V2

[WH#14][wh2nf10.txt]3367

"Now, Alma," said her mother, with the clinging persistence of such natures.

Mrs. March asked her husband what a dividend was. "It's a chicken before it's hatched."

"I am not blue, Alma. But I cannot endure this—this hopefulness of yours."

What you want is some man who can have patience with mediocrity putting on the style of genius, and with genius turning mediocrity on his hands.

You know we Southerners have all had to go to woak. But Ah don't mand it. I tell papa I shouldn't ca' fo' the disgrace of bein' poo' if it wasn't fo' the inconvenience."

He had that timidity of the elder in the presence of the younger man which the younger, preoccupied with his own timidity in the presence of the elder, cannot imagine.

A HAZARD OF NEW FORTUNES, V3

[WH#15][wh3nf10.txt]3368

Dryfoos complained to his wife on the basis of mere affectional habit, which in married life often survives the sense of intellectual equality. He did not expect her to reason with him, but there was help in her listening, and though she could only soothe his fretfulness with soft answers which were often wide of the purpose, he still went to her for solace.

He began to brag of his wife, as a good husband always does when another woman charms him.

His courage hadn't been put to the test, and courage is a matter of proof, like proficiency on the fiddle, you know: you can't tell whether you've got it till you try."

I wish that old friend of hers would hurry up and git well—or something.

Men who have made money and do not yet know that money has made them….

A HAZARD OF NEW FORTUNES, V4

[WH#16][wh4nf10.txt]3369

He seemed to be lying in wait for some encroachment of the literary department on the art department, and he met it now and then with anticipative reprisal.

In the course of his married life March had learned not to censure the irretrievable; but this was just what his wife had not learned….

She was too ignorant of her ignorance to recognize the mistakes she made.

But in these matters we have no right to burden our friends with our decisions."

The Marches had no longer the gross appetite for novelty which urges youth to a surfeit of strange scenes, experiences, ideas; and makes travel, with all its annoyances and fatigues, an inexhaustible delight.

A HAZARD OF NEW FORTUNES, V5

[WH#17][wh5nf10.txt]3370

Death is an exile that no remorse and no love can reach. Remember that, and be good to every one here on earth, for your longing to retrieve any harshness or unkindness to the dead will be the very ecstasy of anguish to you.

"Oh, death doesn't look bad," said March. "It's life that looks so in its presence. Death is peace and pardon.

Does any one deserve happiness?

Let their love of justice hurry them into sympathy with violence.

"Does anything from without change us?" her husband mused aloud. "We're brought up to think so by the novelists, who really have the charge of people's thinking, nowadays.

"Yes, people that have convictions are difficult. Fortunately, they're rare."

To do whatever one likes is finally to do nothing that one likes, even though one continues to do what one will….

SILVER WEDDING JOURNEY, V1

[WH#18][wh1sw10.txt]3371

The wars come and go in blood and tears; but whether they are bad wars, or what are comically called good wars, they are of one effect in death and sorrow.

I don't know. It seems to me that I'm less and less certain of everything that I used to be sure of.

But the madness of sight-seeing, which spoils travel, was on them, and they delivered themselves up to it as they used in their ignorant youth, though now they knew its futility so well. They spared themselves nothing that they had time for.

Men would say anything from a reckless and culpable optimism.

While they all talked on together, and repeated the nothings they had said already….

SILVER WEDDING JOURNEY, V2 [WH#19][wh2sw10.txt]3372 It's so deeply founded in nature that after denying royalty by word and deed for a hundred years, we Americans are hungrier for it than anybody else.

He buys my poverty and not my will.

There was no wild life to penetrate his isolation; no birds, not a squirrel, not an insect; an old man who had bidden him good-morning, as he came up, kept fumbling at the path with his hoe, and was less intrusive than if he had not been there.

He lost the sense of his wife's presence, and answered her vaguely. She talked contentedly on in the monologue to which the wives of absent- minded men learn to resign themselves.

The disadvantage of living long is that we get too much into the hands of other people.

SILVER WEDDING JOURNEY, V3

[WH#20][wh3sw10.txt]3373

Summoned the passengers to declare that they had nothing to declare, as a preliminary to being searched like thieves at the dock.

It's the illusions: no marriage can be perfect without them, and at their age the Kenbys can't have them.

You expected the ideal. And that's what makes all the trouble, in married life: we expect too much of each other—we each expect more of the other than we are willing to give or can give. If I had to begin over again, I should not expect anything at all, and then I should be sure of being radiantly happy.

She always came to his defence when he accused himself; it was the best ground he could take with her.

THE ENTIRE MARCH FAMILY TRILOGY

[WH#21][whemf10.txt]3374

The sea-sickness was confined to those who seemed wilful sufferers.

The voting-cattle whom they bought and sold.

There is little proportion about either pain or pleasure: a headache darkens the universe while it lasts, a cup of tea really lightens the spirit bereft of all reasonable consolations.

She has a great respect for your mind, but she don't think you've got any sense.

Uncounted thousands within doors prolonging, before the day's terror began, the oblivion of sleep.

She wonders the happiest women in the world can look each other in the face without bursting into tears, their happiness is so unreasonable, and so built upon and hedged about with misery. She declares that there's nothing so sad to her as a bride, unless it's a young mother, or a little girl growing up in the innocent gayety of her heart. She wonders they can live through it.

THE LANDLORD AT LIONS HEAD, V1

[WH#22][wh1lh10.txt]3375

Crimson torch of a maple, kindled before its time

Disposition to use his friends

Fear of asking too much and the folly of asking too little

Government is best which governs least

Honesty is difficult

Insensate pride that mothers have in their children's faults

Joyful shame of children who have escaped punishment

Married Man: after the first start-off he don't try

Nothing in the way of sport, as people commonly understand it

People whom we think unequal to their good fortune

Society interested in a woman's past, not her future

The great trouble is for the man to be honest with her

We're company enough for ourselves

Women talked their follies and men acted theirs

World seems to always come out at the same hole it went in at!

THE LANDLORD AT LIONS HEAD, V2

[WH#23][wh2lh10.txt]3376

Boldest man is commonly a little behind a timid woman

Crimson which stained the tops and steeps of snow

Errors of a weak man, which were usually the basest

Exchanging inaudible banalities

He might walk home with her if he would not seem to do so

He's the same kind of a man that he was a boy

Hollow hilarities which people use to mask their indifference

If one must, it ought to be champagne

Intent upon some point in the future

No two men see the same star

Pathetic hopefulness

Picture which, he said to himself, no one would believe in

Quiet but rather dull look of people slightly deaf

Stupefied by a life of unalloyed prosperity and propriety

To be exemplary is as dangerous as to be complimentary

Want something hard, don't you know; but I want it to be easy

With all her insight, to have very little artistic sense

World made up of two kinds of people

CRITICISM AND FICTION

[WH#24][whcaf10.txt]3377

Authorities

Browbeat wholesome common-sense into the self-distrust

Comfort from the thought that most things cannot be helped

Concerning popularity as a test of merit in a book

Critical vanity and self-righteousness

Critics are in no sense the legislators of literature

Dickens rescued Christmas from Puritan distrust

Fact that it is hash many times warmed over that reassures them

Forbear the excesses of analysis

Glance of the common eye, is and always was the best light

Greatest classics are sometimes not at all great

Holiday literature

Imitators of one another than of nature

Languages, while they live, are perpetually changing

Let fiction cease to lie about life

Long-puerilized fancy will bear an endless repetition

Made them talk as seldom man and never woman talked

No greatness, no beauty, which does not come from truth

Novels hurt because they are not true

Plain industry and plodding perseverance are despised

Pseudo-realists

Public wish to be amused rather than edified

Teach what they do not know

Tediously analytical

Unless we prefer a luxury of grief

Vulgarity: bad art to lug it in

Whatever is established is sacred with those who do not think

MY LITERARY PASSIONS

[WH#25][whmlp10.txt]3378

Account of one's reading is an account of one's life

Affections will not be bidden

Air of looking down on the highest

Authors I must call my masters

Capriciousness of memory: what it will hold and what lose

Contemptible he found our pseudo-equality

Criticism still remains behind all the other literary arts

Dickens is purely democratic

Escaped at night and got into the boy's dreams

Fictions subtle effect for good and for evil on the young

Hardly any sort of bloodshed which I would not pardon

Hospitable gift of making you at home with him

In school there was as little literature then as there is now

Inexperience takes this effect (literary lewdness) for reality

Kindness and gentleness are never out of fashion

Kissing goes by favor, in literature as in life

Lewd literature seems to give a sanction to lewdness in the life

Made many of my acquaintances very tired of my favorite authors

Mustache, which in those days devoted a man to wickedness

My own youth now seems to me rather more alien

My reading gave me no standing among the boys

Never appeals to the principle which sniffs, in his reader

None of the passions are reasoned

Now little notion what it was about, but I love its memory

Prejudice against certain words that I cannot overcome

Rapture of the new convert could not last

Responsibility of finding him all we have been told he is

Secretly admires the splendors he affects to despise

Self-satisfied, intolerant, and hypocritical provinciality

Should probably have wasted the time if I had not read them

So long as we have social inequality we shall have snobs

Somewhat too studied grace

Speaks it is not with words and blood, but with words and ink

Spit some hapless victim: make him suffer and the reader laugh

Style is the man, and he cannot hide himself in any garb

Trace no discrepancy between reading his plays and seeing them

Tried to like whatever they bade me like

Truth is beyond invention

We did not know that we were poor

We see nothing whole, neither life nor art

What I had not I could hope for without unreason

What we thought ruin, but what was really release

When was love ever reasoned?

Wide leisure of a country village

Words of learned length and thundering sound

World's memory is equally bad for failure and success

Worst came it was not half so bad as what had gone before

You cannot be at perfect ease with a friend who does not joke

You may do a great deal(of work), and not get on

SHORT STORIES AND ESSAYS

[WH#26][whsse10.txt]3379

Aim at nothing higher than the amusement of your readers

Any man's country could get on without him

Begun to fight with want from their cradles

Could not, as the saying is, find a stone to throw at a dog

Disbeliever in punishments of all sorts

Do not want to know about such squalid lives

Early self-helpfulness of children is very remarkable

Encounter of old friends after the lapse of years

Even a day's rest is more than most people can bear

Eyes fixed steadfastly upon the future

For most people choice is a curse

General worsening of things, familiar after middle life

Happy in the indifference which ignorance breeds in us

Hard to think up anything new

Heart of youth aching for their stoical sorrows

Heighten our suffering by anticipation

If one were poor, one ought to be deserving

Look of challenge, of interrogation, almost of reproof

Malevolent agitators

Meet here to the purpose of a common ostentation

Neatness that brings despair

Noble uselessness

Openly depraved by shows of wealth

People have never had ideals, but only moods and fashions

People of wealth and fashion always dissemble their joy

Plagiarism carries inevitable detection with it

Refused to see us as we see ourselves

So many millionaires and so many tramps

Superiority one likes to feel towards the rich and great

Take our pleasures ungraciously

The old and ugly are fastidious as to the looks of others

They are so many and I am so few

Those who work too much and those who rest too much

Unfailing American kindness

Visitors of the more inquisitive sex

We cannot all be hard-working donkeys

We who have neither youth nor beauty should always expect it

Whatever choice you make, you are pretty sure to regret it

NOTES OF A VANISHED SUMMER

[WH#27][whvan10.txt]3380

Not all the houses are small; some are spacious and ambitious to be of ugly modern patterns.

We are still far from the falling leaf; we are hardly come to the blushing or fading leaf. Here and there an impassioned maple confesses the autumn.

The street takes care of itself; the seafaring housekeeping of New England is not of the insatiable Dutch type which will not spare the stones of the highway; but within the houses are of almost terrifying cleanliness.

Jim was, and still is, and I hope will long be, a cat; but unless one has lived at Kittery Point, and realized, from observation and experience, what a leading part cats may play in society, one cannot feel the full import of this fact. Not only has every house in Kittery its cat, but every house seems to have its half-dozen cats, large, little, old, and young; of divers colors, tending mostly to a dark tortoise-shell.

The day's work on land and sea is then over, and the village leisure, perched upon fences and stayed against house walls, is of a picturesqueness which we should prize if we saw it abroad, and which I am not willing to slight on our own ground.

The lounging native walk is not the heavy plod taught by the furrow, but has the lurch and the sway of the deck in it.

STANDARD HOUSEHOLD EFFECT CO.

[WH#28][whshe10.txt]3381

As soon as she has got a thing she wants, she begins to hate it.

I have been thinking this matter over very seriously, and I believe it is going from bad to worse. I have heard praises of the thorough housekeeping of our grandmothers, but the housekeeping of their granddaughters is a thousand times more intense.

At several times in our own lives we have accumulated stuff enough to furnish two or three house and have paid a pretty stiff house-rent in the form of storage for the overflow.

Yes, I see what you mean," I said. This is what one usually says when one does not quite know what another is driving at; but in this case I really did know, or thought I did.

AMERICAN LITERARY CENTERS

[WH#29][whalc10.txt]3382

One of the facts which we Americans have a difficulty in making clear to a rather inattentive world outside is that, while we have apparently a literature of our own, we have no literary centre. We have so much literature that from time to time it seems even to us we must have a literary centre. We say to ourselves, with a good deal of logic, Where there is so much smoke there must be some fire, or at least a fireplace.

It is not quality that is wanting, but perhaps it is the quantity of the quality; there is leaven, but not for so large a lump. It may be that New York is going to be our literary centre, as London is the literary centre of England, by gathering into itself all our writing talent, but it has by no means done this yet.

Preach the blessings of our deeply incorporated civilization by the mouths of our eight-inch guns.

SPANISH PRISONERS OF WAR

[WH#30][whspw10.txt]3383

If we had a grief with the Spanish government, and if it was so mortal we must do murder for it, we might have sent a joint committee of the House and Senate, and, with the improved means of assassination which modern science has put at our command, killed off the Spanish cabinet, and even the queen—mother and the little king. This would have been consequent, logical, and in a sort reasonable; but to butcher and capture a lot of wretched Spanish peasants and fishermen, hapless conscripts to whom personally and nationally we were as so many men in the moon, was that melancholy and humiliating necessity of war which makes it homicide in which there is not even the saving grace of hate, or the excuse of hot blood.

That stupid and atrocious hate towards the public enemy which abominable newspapers and politicians had tried to breed in the popular mind.

How is it the great pieces of good luck fall to us?

ANOMALIES OF THE SHORT STORY

[WH#31][whass10.txt]3384

One of the most amusing questions concerning the short story is why a form which is singly so attractive that every one likes to read a short story when he finds it alone is collectively so repellent as it is said to be. Before now I have imagined the case to be somewhat the same as that of a number of pleasant people who are most acceptable as separate householders, but who lose caste and cease to be desirable acquaintances when gathered into a boarding-house.

I wish that the general reader, with whom the fault lies, could be made to say why, if he likes one short story by itself and four short stories in a magazine, he does not like, or will not have, a dozen short stories in a book. This was the baffling question which I began with and which I find myself forced to end with, after all the light I have thrown upon the subject.

LAST DAYS IN A DUTCH HOTEL

[WH#32][whldh10.txt]3385

But in Europe everything is permanent, and in America everything is provisional. This is the great distinction which, if always kept in mind, will save a great deal of idle astonishment. It is in nothing more apparent than in the preparation here at Scheveningen for centuries of summer visitors, while at our Long Island hotel there was a losing bet on a scant generation of them. When it seemed likely that it might be a winning bet the sand was planked there in front of the hotel to the sea with spruce boards. It was very handsomely planked, but it was never afterwards touched, apparently, for any manner of repairs. Here, for half a mile the dune on which the hotel stands is shored up with massive masonry, and bricked for carriages, and tiled for foot-passengers; and it is all kept as clean as if wheel or foot had never passed over it. I am sure that there is not a broken brick or a broken tile in the whole length or breadth of it. But the hotel here is not a bet; it is a business. It has come to stay; and on Long Island it had come to see how it would like it.

THE YOUNG CONTRIBUTOR

[WH#33][whtyc10.txt]3386

An artistic atmosphere does not create artists a literary atmosphere does not create literators; poets and painters spring up where there was never a verse made or a picture seen.

We hear much of drudgery, but any sort of work that is slighted becomes drudgery; poetry, fiction, painting, sculpture, acting, architecture, if you do not do your best by them, turn to drudgery sore as digging ditches, hewing wood, or drawing water; and these, by the same blessings of God, become arts if they are done with conscience and the sense of beauty.

At once put aside all anxiety about style; that is a thing that will take care of itself; it will be added unto him if he really has something to say; for style is only a man's way of saying a thing.

If I were to sin my sins over again, I think I should sin a little more on the side of candid severity. I am sure I should do more good in that way, and I am sure that when I used to dissemble my real mind I did harm to those whose feelings I wished to spare.

The trouble with success is that it is apt to leave life behind, or apart. The successful writer especially is in danger of becoming isolated from the realities that nurtured in him the strength to win success.

I think that every author who is honest with himself must own that his work would be twice as good if it were done twice.

CONFESSIONS OF SUMMER COLONIST

[WH#34][whcsc10.txt]3387

At this function, which is our chief social event, it is 'de rigueur' for the men not to dress, and they come in any sort of sack or jacket or cutaway, letting the ladies make up the pomps which they forego.

They say frankly that the summer folks have no idea how pleasant it is when they are gone.

Well, we calculate to do our work," he added, with an accent which sufficiently implied that their consciences needed no bossing in the performance.

MAN OF LETTERS IN BUSINESS

[WH#35][whmlb10.txt]3388

Artist has seasons, as trees, when he cannot blossom

Book that they are content to know at second hand

Business to take advantage of his necessity

Competition has deformed human nature

Conditions of hucksters imposed upon poets

Fate of a book is in the hands of the women

God of chance leads them into temptation and adversity

Historian, who is a kind of inferior realist

I do not think any man ought to live by an art

If he has not enjoyed writing no one will enjoy reading

Impropriety if not indecency promises literary success

Literature beautiful only through the intelligence

Literature has no objective value

Literature is Business as well as Art

Man is strange to himself as long as he lives

Men read the newspapers, but our women read the books

Most journalists would have been literary men if they could

Never quite sure of life unless I find literature in it

No rose blooms right along

Our huckstering civilization

Public whose taste is so crude that they cannot enjoy the best

Rogues in every walk of life

There is small love of pure literature

Two branches of the novelist's trade: Novelist and Historian

Work not truly priced in money cannot be truly paid in money

LITERATURE AND LIFE

[WH#36][whlal10.txt]3389

Impropriety if not indecency promises literary success.

Literature is beautiful only through the intelligence.

Public whose taste is so crude that they cannot enjoy the best.

They say frankly that the summer folks have no idea how pleasant it is when they are gone.

The trouble with success is that it is apt to leave life behind, or apart. The successful writer especially is in danger of becoming isolated from the realities that nurtured in him the strength to win success.

I think that every author who is honest with himself must own that his work would be twice as good if it were done twice.

At once put aside all anxiety about style; that is a thing that will take care of itself; it will be added unto him if he really has something to say; for style is only a man's way of saying a thing.

If I were to sin my sins over again, I think I should sin a little more on the side of candid severity. I am sure I should do more good in that way, and I am sure that when I used to dissemble my real mind I did harm to those whose feelings I wished to spare.

MY MARK TWAIN

[WH#37][whmmt10.txt]3390

Absolutely, so positively, so almost aggressively truthful

Amiable perception, and yet with a sort of remote absence

But now I remember that he gets twenty dollars a month

Christianity had done nothing to improve morals and conditions

Church: "Oh yes, I go! It 'most kills me, but I go"

Clemens was sole, incomparable, the Lincoln of our literature

Despair broke in laughter

Despised the avoidance of repetitions out of fear of tautology

Everlasting rock of human credulity and folly

Flowers with which we garland our despair in that pitiless hour

He was a youth to the end of his days

Heroic lies

His coming almost killed her, but it was worth it

Honest men are few when it comes to themselves

It was mighty pretty, as Pepys would say

Left him to do what the cat might

Lie, of course, and did to save others from grief or harm

Liked to find out good things and great things for himself

Livy Clemens: the loveliest person I have ever seen

Marriages are what the parties to them alone really know

Mind and soul were with those who do the hard work of the world

Most desouthernized Southerner I ever knew

Most serious, the most humane, the most conscientious of men

Nearly nothing as chaos could be

Never saw a dead man whom he did not envy

Never saw a man more regardful of negroes

No man ever yet told the truth about himself

No man more perfectly sensed and more entirely abhorred slavery

Not possible for Clemens to write like anybody else

Ought not to call coarse without calling one's self prudish

Polite learning hesitated his praise

Praised it enough to satisfy the author

Reparation due from every white to every black man

Shackles of belief worn so long

Stupidly truthful

The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it

Used to ingratitude from those he helped

Vacuous vulgarity

Walter-Scotticized, pseudo-chivalry of the Southern ideal

We have never ended before, and we do not see how we can end

Livy: Well, if you are to be lost, I want to be lost with you

What he had done he owned to, good, bad, or indifferent

Whether every human motive was not selfish

"Wonder why we hate the past so?—"It's so damned humiliating!"

A BELATED GUEST

[WH#38][whabg10.txt]3391

Always sumptuously providing out of his destitution

Could only by chance be caught in earnest about anything

Couldn't fire your revolver without bringing down a two volumer

Death's vague conjectures to the broken expectations of life

Dollars were of so much farther flight than now

Enjoying whatever was amusing in the disadvantage to himself

Express the appreciation of another's fit word

Gay laugh comes across the abysm of the years

His plays were too bad for the stage, or else too good for it

Insatiable English fancy for the wild America no longer there

Long breath was not his; he could not write a novel

Mellow cordial of a voice that was like no other

Now death has come to join its vague conjectures

Offers mortifyingly mean, and others insultingly vague

Only one concerned who was quite unconcerned

So refined, after the gigantic coarseness of California

Wrote them first and last in the spirit of Dickens

CAMBRIDGE NEIGHBORS

[WH#39][whcbn10.txt]3392

Cold-slaw

Collective opacity

Felt that this was my misfortune more than my fault

Found life was not all poetry

He had no time to make money

Intellectual poseurs

NYC, a city where money counts for more and goes for less

One could be openly poor in Cambridge without open shame

Put your finger on the present moment and enjoy it

Standards were their own, and they were satisfied with them

Wonderful to me how it should remain so unintelligible

STUDIES OF LOWELL

[WH#40][whlow10.txt]3393

What I have cloudily before me is the vision of a very lofty and simple soul, perplexed, and as it were surprised and even dismayed at the complexity of the effects from motives so single in it, but escaping always to a clear expression of what was noblest and loveliest in itself at the supreme moments, in the divine exigencies. I believe neither in heroes nor in saints; but I believe in great and good men, for I have known them, and among such men Lowell was of the richest nature I have known.

Writing at the distance of Europe, and with America in the perspective which the alien environment clouded, he spoke of her as "The Land of Broken Promise." It was a splendid reproach, but perhaps too dramatic to bear the full test of analysis, and yet it had the truth in it, and might, I think, have usefully stood, to the end of making people think. Undoubtedly it expressed his sense of the case, and in the same measure it would now express that of many who love their country most among us. It is well to hold one's country to her promises, and if there are any who think she is forgetting them it is their duty to say so, even to the point of bitter accusation.

As I have suggested in my own case, it did not matter much whether you brought anything to the feast or not. If he liked you he liked being with you, not for what he got, but for what he gave. He was fond of one man whom I recall as the most silent man I ever met. I never heard him say anything, not even a dull thing, but Lowell delighted in him, and would have you believe that he was full of quaint humor.

THE WHITE MR. LONGFELLOW

[WH#41][whlng10.txt]3394

In Cambridge the houses to be let were few, and such as there were fell either below our pride or rose above our purse. I wish I might tell how at last we bought a house; we had no money, but we were rich in friends, who are still alive to shrink from the story of their constant faith in a financial future which we sometimes doubted, and who backed their credulity with their credit. It is sufficient for the present record, which professes to be strictly literary, to notify the fact that on the first day of May, 1866, we went out to Cambridge and began to live in a house which we owned in fee if not in deed, and which was none the less valuable for being covered with mortgages. Physically, it was a carpenter's box, of a sort which is readily imagined by the Anglo- American genius for ugliness.

Any sort of diversion was hailed, and once Appleton proposed that Longfellow should show us his wine-cellar. He took up the candle burning on the table for the cigars, and led the way into the basement of the beautiful old Colonial mansion, doubly memorable as Washington's headquarters while he was in Cambridge, and as the home of Longfellow for so many years. The taper cast just the right gleams on the darkness, bringing into relief the massive piers of brick, and the solid walls of stone, which gave the cellar the effect of a casemate in some fortress, and leaving the corners and distances to a romantic gloom. This basement was a work of the days when men built more heavily if not more substantially than now.

The ill-will that seemed nearly always to go with adverse criticism made him distrust criticism, and the discomfort which mistaken or blundering praise gives probably made him shy of all criticism.

The memory will not be ruled as to what it shall bind and what it shall loose.

Somewhat shy of his fellow-men, as the scholar seems always to be.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

[WH#42][whowh10.txt]3395

Appeal, which he had come to recognize as invasive

Could make us feel that our faults were other people's

Hard of hearing on one side. But it isn't deafness!

Harriet Beecher Stowe and the Autocrat clashed upon homeopathy

He was not bored because he would not be

He was not constructive; he was essentially observant

His readers trusted and loved him

Men's lives ended where they began, in the keeping of women

Not a man who cared to transcend; he liked bounds

Not much patience with the unmanly craving for sympathy

Old man's disposition to speak of his infirmities

Old man's tendency to revert to the past

Reformers, who are so often tedious and ridiculous

Secret of the man who is universally interesting

Sought the things that he could agree with you upon

Spare his years the fatigue of recalling your identity

Study in a corner by the porch

Those who have sorrowed deepest will understand this best

Times when a man's city was a man's country

Work gives the impression of an uncommon continuity

LITERARY BOSTON

[WH#43][whbos10.txt]3396

Dawn upon him through a cloud of other half remembered faces

Ethical sense, not the aesthetical sense

Few men last over from one reform to another

Generous lover of all that was excellent in literature

Got out of it all the fun there was in it

Greeting of great impersonal cordiality

Grieving that there could be such ire in heavenly minds

His remembrance absolutely ceased with an event

Looked as if Destiny had sat upon it

Man who may any moment be out of work is industrially a slave

Pathos of revolt from the colorless rigidities

Plain-speaking or Rude Speaking

Pointed the moral in all they did

Sometimes they sacrificed the song to the sermon

Tired themselves out in trying to catch up with him

True to an ideal of life rather than to life itself

Wasted face, and his gay eyes had the death-look

When to be an agnostic was to be almost an outcast

ROUNDABOUT TO BOSTON

[WH#44][whrtb10.txt]3397

I could only report to him from time to time the unyielding attitude of the Civil Tribunal, and at last he consented, as he wrote, "to act officiously, not officially, in the matter," and the hapless claimant got what was left of his estate.

I was notified that there was a sum to my credit in the bank, I said, with the confidence I have nearly always felt when wrong, that I had no money there. The proof of my error was sent me in a check.

It is one of the hard conditions of this state that while we can mostly make out to let people taste the last drop of bitterness and ill-will that is in us, our love and gratitude are only semi-articulate at the best, and usually altogether tongue-tied.

His honesty made all men trust him when they doubted his opinions; his good sense made them doubt their own opinions, when they had as little question of their own honesty.

His whole life taught the lesson that the world is well lost whenever the world is wrong; but never, I think, did any life teach this so sweetly, so winningly. The wrong world itself might have been entreated by him to be right, for he was one of the few reformers who have not in some measure mixed their love of man with hate of men; his quarrel was with error, and not with the persons who were in it.

He was a believer in the cause of women's rights, which has no picturesqueness, and which chiefly appeals to the sense of humor in the men who never dreamt of laughing at him.

FIRST VISIT TO NEW ENGLAND

[WH#45][whvne10.txt]3398

Abstract, the air-drawn, afflicted me like physical discomforts

Became gratefully strange

Best talkers are willing that you should talk if you like

Could easily believe now that it was some one else who saw it

Death of the joy that ought to come from work

Did not feel the effect I would so willingly have experienced

Dinner was at the old-fashioned Boston hour of two

Either to deny the substance of things unseen, or to affirm it

Espoused the theory of Bacon's authorship of Shakespeare

Feigned the gratitude which I could see that he expected

Forbearance of a wise man content to bide his time

Hate of hate, The scorn of scorn, The love of love

Hollowness, the hopelessness, the unworthiness of life

I did not know, and I hated to ask

If he was half as bad, he would have been too bad to be

In the South there was nothing but a mistaken social ideal

Incredible in their insipidity

Industrial slavery

Love of freedom and the hope of justice

Man who had so much of the boy in him

Met with kindness, if not honor

Napoleonic height which spiritually overtops the Alps

Never paid in anything but hopes of paying

Not quite himself till he had made you aware of his quality

Odious hilarity, without meaning and without remission

Praised extravagantly, and in the wrong place

Seen through the wrong end of the telescope

Things common to all, however peculiar in each

Wit that tries its teeth upon everything

Of Literature—Entire

[WH#46][whlfr10.txt]3399

Authorities

Browbeat wholesome common-sense into the self-distrust

Comfort from the thought that most things cannot be helped

Concerning popularity as a test of merit in a book

Critical vanity and self-righteousness

Critics are in no sense the legislators of literature

Dickens rescued Christmas from Puritan distrust

Fact that it is hash many times warmed over reassures them

Forbear the excesses of analysis

Glance of the common eye, is and always was the best light

Greatest classics are sometimes not at all great

Imitators of one another than of nature

Languages, while they live, are perpetually changing

Let fiction cease to lie about life

Long-puerilized fancy will bear an endless repetition

Made them talk as seldom man and never woman talked

No greatness, no beauty, which does not come from truth

Novels hurt because they are not true

Plain industry and plodding perseverance are despised

Pseudo-realists

Public wish to be amused rather than edified

Teach what they do not know

Tediously analytical

To break new ground

Unless we prefer a luxury of grief

Vulgarity: bad art to lug it in

What makes a better fashion change for a worse

Whatever is established is sacred with those who do not think

RAGGED LADY, V1

[WH#51][wh1rl10.txt]3405

All in all to each other

Chained to the restless pursuit of an ideal not his own

Composed her features and her ideas to receive her visitor

Hopeful apathy in his face

Inexhaustible flow of statement, conjecture and misgiving

Kept her talking vacuities when her heart was full

Led a life of public seclusion

Luxury of helplessness

New England necessity of blaming some one

No object in life except to deprive it of all object

Provisional reprehension of possible shiftlessness

Seldom talked, but there came times when he would'nt even listen

Tone was a snuffle expressive of deep-seated affliction

Under a fire of conjecture and asseveration

Wishes of a mistress who did not know what she wanted

RAGGED LADY, V2

[WH#52][wh2rl10.txt]3406

Didn't reason about their beliefs, but only argued

Dull, cold self-absorption

Gift of waiting for things to happen

He's so resting

Life alone is credible to the young

Morbid egotism

Motives lie nearer the surface than most people commonly pretend

Real artistocracy is above social prejudice

Singleness of a nature that was all pose

Submitted, as people always do with the trials of others

Sunny gayety of self-forgetfulness

Understood when I've said something that doesn't mean anything

We change whether we ought, or not

When she's really sick, she's better

Women don't seem to belong very much to themselves

You can't go back to anything

You were not afraid, and you were not bold; you were just right

APRIL HOPES

[WH#50][whapr10.txt]3404

Adroitness in flattery is not necessary for its successful use

Amiably satirical

Beginning to grow old with touching courage

Buzz of activities and pretences

Effort to do and say exactly the truth, and to find it out

Habit of saying some friendly lying thing

Incoherencies of people meeting after a long time

Little knot of conscience between her pretty eyebrows

Lived a thousand little lies every day

Mind of a man is the court of final appeal for the wisest women

Outer integument of pretence

Passive elegance which only ancestral uselessness can give

Satirical smile with which men witness the effusion of women

She liked to get all she could out of her emotions

Worldlier than the world

You marry a man's future as well as his past

ENTIRE PG EDITION OF WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS

[WH#47][whewk10.txt]3400

Absolutely, so positively, so almost aggressively truthful

Abstract, the airdrawn, afflicted me like physical discomforts

Account of one's reading is an account of one's life

Adroitness in flattery is not necessary for its successful use

Affections will not be bidden

Aim at nothing higher than the amusement of your readers

Air of looking down on the highest

All in all to each other

Always sumptuously providing out of his destitution

Amiable perception, and yet with a sort of remote absence

Amiably satirical

Any man's country could get on without him

Appeal, which he had come to recognize as invasive

Artist has seasons, as trees, when he cannot blossom

Authorities

Authors I must call my masters

Became gratefully strange

Beginning to grow old with touching courage

Begun to fight with want from their cradles

Best talkers are willing that you should talk if you like

Boldest man is commonly a little behind a timid woman

Book that they are content to know at second hand

Browbeat wholesome common-sense into the self-distrust

Business to take advantage of his necessity

But now I remember that he gets twenty dollars a month

Buzz of activities and pretences

Capriciousness of memory: what it will hold and what lose

Chained to the restless pursuit of an ideal not his own

Christianity had done nothing to improve morals and conditions

Church: "Oh yes, I go! It 'most kills me, but I go"

Clemens was sole, incomparable, the Lincoln of our literature

Cold-slaw

Collective opacity

Comfort from the thought that most things cannot be helped

Competition has deformed human nature

Composed her features and her ideas to receive her visitor

Concerning popularity as a test of merit in a book

Conditions of hucksters imposed upon poets

Contemptible he found our pseudo-equality

Could only by chance be caught in earnest about anything

Could make us feel that our faults were other people's

Could not, as the saying is, find a stone to throw at a dog

Could easily believe now that it was some one else who saw it

Couldn't fire your revolver without bringing down a two volumer

Crimson which stained the tops and steeps of snow

Crimson torch of a maple, kindled before its time

Critical vanity and self-righteousness

Criticism still remains behind all the other literary arts

Critics are in no sense the legislators of literature

Dawn upon him through a cloud of other half remembered faces

Death of the joy that ought to come from work

Death's vague conjectures to the broken expectations of life

Despair broke in laughter

Despised the avoidance of repetitions out of fear of tautology

Dickens rescued Christmas from Puritan distrust

Dickens is purely democratic

Did not feel the effect I would so willingly have experienced

Didn't reason about their beliefs, but only argued

Dinner was at the old-fashioned Boston hour of two

Disbeliever in punishments of all sorts

Disposition to use his friends

Do not want to know about such squalid lives

Dollars were of so much farther flight than now

Dull, cold self-absorption

Early self-helpfulness of children is very remarkable

Effort to do and say exactly the truth, and to find it out

Either to deny the substance of things unseen, or to affirm it

Encounter of old friends after the lapse of years

Enjoying whatever was amusing in the disadvantage to himself

Errors of a weak man, which were usually the basest

Escaped at night and got into the boy's dreams

Espoused the theory of Bacon's authorship of Shakespeare

Ethical sense, not the aesthetical sense

Even a day's rest is more than most people can bear

Everlasting rock of human credulity and folly

Exchanging inaudible banalities

Express the appreciation of another's fit word

Eyes fixed steadfastly upon the future

Fact that it is hash many times warmed over that reassures them

Fate of a book is in the hands of the women

Fear of asking too much and the folly of asking too little

Feigned the gratitude which I could see that he expected

Felt that this was my misfortune more than my fault

Few men last over from one reform to another

Fictions subtle effect for good and for evil on the young

Flowers with which we garland our despair in that pitiless hour

For most people choice is a curse

Forbear the excesses of analysis

Forbearance of a wise man content to bide his time

Found life was not all poetry

Gay laugh comes across the abysm of the years

General worsening of things, familiar after middle life

Generous lover of all that was excellent in literature

Gift of waiting for things to happen

Glance of the common eye, is and always was the best light

God of chance leads them into temptation and adversity

Got out of it all the fun there was in it

Government is best which governs least

Greatest classics are sometimes not at all great

Greeting of great impersonal cordiality

Grieving that there could be such ire in heavenly minds

Habit of saying some friendly lying thing

Happy in the indifference which ignorance breeds in us

Hard to think up anything new

Hard of hearing on one side. But it isn't deafness!

Hardly any sort of bloodshed which I would not pardon

Harriet Beecher Stowe and the Autocrat clashed upon homeopathy

Hate of hate, The scorn of scorn, The love of love

He was a youth to the end of his days

He was not bored because he would not be

He had no time to make money

He was not constructive; he was essentially observant

He might walk home with her if he would not seem to do so

He's so resting

He's the same kind of a man that he was a boy

Heart of youth aching for their stoical sorrows

Heighten our suffering by anticipation

Heroic lies

His readers trusted and loved him

His plays were too bad for the stage, or else too good for it

His coming almost killed her, but it was worth it

His remembrance absolutely ceased with an event

Historian, who is a kind of inferior realist

Holiday literature

Hollow hilarities which people use to mask their indifference

Hollowness, the hopelessness, the unworthiness of life

Honest men are few when it comes to themselves

Honesty is difficult

Hopeful apathy in his face

Hospitable gift of making you at home with him

I do not think any man ought to live by an art

I did not know, and I hated to ask

If one were poor, one ought to be deserving

If he was half as bad, he would have been too bad to be

If one must, it ought to be champagne

If he has not enjoyed writing no one will enjoy reading

Imitators of one another than of nature

Impropriety if not indecency promises literary success

In the South there was nothing but a mistaken social ideal

In school there was as little literature then as there is now

Incoherencies of people meeting after a long time

Incredible in their insipidity

Industrial slavery

Inexhaustible flow of statement, conjecture and misgiving

Inexperience takes this effect (literary lewdness) for reality

Insatiable English fancy for the wild America no longer there

Insensate pride that mothers have in their children's faults

Intellectual poseurs

Intent upon some point in the future

It was mighty pretty, as Pepys would say

Joyful shame of children who have escaped punishment

Kept her talking vacuities when her heart was full

Kindness and gentleness are never out of fashion

Kissing goes by favor, in literature as in life

Languages, while they live, are perpetually changing

Led a life of public seclusion

Left him to do what the cat might

Let fiction cease to lie about life

Lewd literature seems to give a sanction to lewdness in the life

Lie, of course, and did to save others from grief or harm

Life alone is credible to the young

Liked to find out good things and great things for himself

Literature beautiful only through the intelligence

Literature is Business as well as Art

Literature has no objective value

Little knot of conscience between her pretty eyebrows

Lived a thousand little lies every day

Livy: Well, if you are to be lost, I want to be lost with you

Livy Clemens: the loveliest person I have ever seen

Long-puerilized fancy will bear an endless repetition

Long breath was not his; he could not write a novel

Look of challenge, of interrogation, almost of reproof

Looked as if Destiny had sat upon it

Love of freedom and the hope of justice

Luxury of helplessness

Made many of my acquaintances very tired of my favorite authors

Made them talk as seldom man and never woman talked

Malevolent agitators

Man is strange to himself as long as he lives

Man who had so much of the boy in him

Man who may any moment be out of work is industrially a slave

Marriages are what the parties to them alone really know

Married Man: after the first start-off he don't try

Meet here to the purpose of a common ostentation

Mellow cordial of a voice that was like no other

Men read the newspapers, but our women read the books

Men's lives ended where they began, in the keeping of women

Met with kindness, if not honor

Mind and soul were with those who do the hard work of the world

Mind of a man is the court of final appeal for the wisest women

Morbid egotism

Most desouthernized Southerner I ever knew

Most journalists would have been literary men if they could

Most serious, the most humane, the most conscientious of men

Motives lie nearer the surface than most people commonly pretend

Mustache, which in those days devoted a man to wickedness

My own youth now seems to me rather more alien

My reading gave me no standing among the boys

Napoleonic height which spiritually overtops the Alps

Nearly nothing as chaos could be

Neatness that brings despair

Never saw a man more regardful of negroes

Never paid in anything but hopes of paying

Never quite sure of life unless I find literature in it

Never appeals to the principle which sniffs, in his reader

Never saw a dead man whom he did not envy

New England necessity of blaming some one

No greatness, no beauty, which does not come from truth

No man more perfectly sensed and more entirely abhorred slavery

No man ever yet told the truth about himself

No rose blooms right along

No two men see the same star

No greatness, no beauty, which does not come from truth

No object in life except to deprive it of all object

Noble uselessness

None of the passions are reasoned

Not quite himself till he had made you aware of his quality

Not possible for Clemens to write like anybody else

Not much patience with the unmanly craving for sympathy

Not a man who cared to transcend; he liked bounds

Nothing in the way of sport, as people commonly understand it

Novels hurt because they are not true

Now little notion what it was about, but I love its memory

Now death has come to join its vague conjectures

NYC, a city where money counts for more and goes for less

Odious hilarity, without meaning and without remission

Offers mortifyingly mean, and others insultingly vague

Old man's disposition to speak of his infirmities

Old man's tendency to revert to the past

One could be openly poor in Cambridge without open shame

Only one concerned who was quite unconcerned

Openly depraved by shows of wealth

Ought not to call coarse without calling one's self prudish

Our huckstering civilization

Outer integument of pretence

Passive elegance which only ancestral uselessness can give

Pathetic hopefulness

Pathos of revolt from the colorless rigidities

People whom we think unequal to their good fortune

People of wealth and fashion always dissemble their joy

People have never had ideals, but only moods and fashions

Picture which, he said to himself, no one would believe in

Plagiarism carries inevitable detection with it

Plain-speaking or Rude Speaking

Plain industry and plodding perseverance are despised

Pointed the moral in all they did

Polite learning hesitated his praise

Praised it enough to satisfy the author

Praised extravagantly, and in the wrong place

Prejudice against certain words that I cannot overcome

Provisional reprehension of possible shiftlessness

Pseudo-realists

Public wish to be amused rather than edified

Public whose taste is so crude that they cannot enjoy the best

Put your finger on the present moment and enjoy it

Quiet but rather dull look of people slightly deaf

Rapture of the new convert could not last

Real artistocracy is above social prejudice

Reformers, who are so often tedious and ridiculous

Refused to see us as we see ourselves

Reparation due from every white to every black man

Responsibility of finding him all we have been told he is

Rogues in every walk of life

Satirical smile with which men witness the effusion of women

Secret of the man who is universally interesting

Secretly admires the splendors he affects to despise

Seen through the wrong end of the telescope

Seldom talked, but there came times when he would'nt even listen

Self-satisfied, intolerant, and hypocritical provinciality

Shackles of belief worn so long

She liked to get all she could out of her emotions

Should probably have wasted the time if I had not read them

Singleness of a nature that was all pose

So long as we have social inequality we shall have snobs

So refined, after the gigantic coarseness of California

So many millionaires and so many tramps

Society interested in a woman's past, not her future

Sometimes they sacrificed the song to the sermon

Somewhat shy of his fellow-men, as the scholar seems always to be.

Somewhat too studied grace

Sought the things that he could agree with you upon

Spare his years the fatigue of recalling your identity

Speaks it is not with words and blood, but with words and ink

Spit some hapless victim: make him suffer and the reader laugh

Standards were their own, and they were satisfied with them

Study in a corner by the porch

Stupefied by a life of unalloyed prosperity and propriety

Stupidly truthful

Style is the man, and he cannot hide himself in any garb

Submitted, as people always do with the trials of others

Sunny gayety of self-forgetfulness

Superiority one likes to feel towards the rich and great

Take our pleasures ungraciously

Teach what they do not know

Tediously analytical

The old and ugly are fastidious as to the looks of others

The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it

The great trouble is for the man to be honest with her

There is small love of pure literature

They are so many and I am so few

Things common to all, however peculiar in each

Those who work too much and those who rest too much

Those who have sorrowed deepest will understand this best

Times when a man's city was a man's country

Tired themselves out in trying to catch up with him

To break new ground

To be exemplary is as dangerous as to be complimentary

Tone was a snuffle expressive of deep-seated affliction

Trace no discrepancy between reading his plays and seeing them

Tried to like whatever they bade me like

True to an ideal of life rather than to life itself

Truth is beyond invention

Two branches of the novelist's trade: Novelist and Historian

Under a fire of conjecture and asseveration

Understood when I've said something that doesn't mean anything

Unfailing American kindness

Unless we prefer a luxury of grief

Used to ingratitude from those he helped

Vacuous vulgarity

Visitors of the more inquisitive sex

Vulgarity: bad art to lug it in

Walter-Scotticized, pseudo-chivalry of the Southern ideal

Want something hard, don't you know; but I want it to be easy

Wasted face, and his gay eyes had the death-look

We have never ended before, and we do not see how we can end

We change whether we ought, or not

We see nothing whole, neither life nor art

We who have neither youth nor beauty should always expect it

We cannot all be hard-working donkeys

We did not know that we were poor

We're company enough for ourselves

What I had not I could hope for without unreason

What he had done he owned to, good, bad, or indifferent

What makes a better fashion change for a worse

What we thought ruin, but what was really release

Whatever is established is sacred with those who do not think

Whatever choice you make, you are pretty sure to regret it

When to be an agnostic was to be almost an outcast

When she's really sick, she's better

When was love ever reasoned?

Whether every human motive was not selfish

Wide leisure of a country village

Wishes of a mistress who did not know what she wanted

Wit that tries its teeth upon everything

With all her insight, to have very little artistic sense

Women don't seem to belong very much to themselves

Women talked their follies and men acted theirs

Wonder why we hate the past so?—"It's so damned humiliating!"

Wonderful to me how it should remain so unintelligible

Words of learned length and thundering sound

Work gives the impression of an uncommon continuity

Work not truly priced in money cannot be truly paid in money

World made up of two kinds of people

World seems to always come out at the same hole it went in at!

World's memory is equally bad for failure and success

Worldlier than the world

Worst came it was not half so bad as what had gone before

Wrote them first and last in the spirit of Dickens

You can't go back to anything

You cannot be at perfect ease with a friend who does not joke

You may do a great deal(of work), and not get on

You marry a man's future as well as his past

You were not afraid, and you were not bold; you were just right

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Table of Contents

WIDGER'S QUOTATIONS

THESE BOOKS OF WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS ARE PRESENTLY LISTED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG:

QUOTATIONS HAVE BEEN TAKEN FROM THE FOLLOWING FILES:

EDITOR'S NOTE

WIDGER'S QUOTATIONS

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE