Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. (Julius Caesar, 1.2.146), Cassius to Brutus
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; And chastise with the valour of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal. (Macbeth, 1.5.27), Lady Macbeth
I am no one and every one you've ever known and never knew. A common old sallow, clinging like dust on a shelf Ancient dry bones hanging in secret windows Softly clicking against the nape of the rising wind
December 3, 186- brite and fair. went to church today. Me and Pewt and Beany go to the Unitarial church. we all joined sunday school to get into the Crismas festerval. they have it in the town hall and have two trees and supper and presents for the scholars. so we are going to stay til after crismas anyway the unitarials have jest built a new church. Pewt and Beany's fathers painted it and so they go there. i don't know why we go there xcept because they don't have any church in the afternoon. Nipper Brown and Micky Gould go there. we all went into the same class. our teacher is Mister Winsor a student. we call them stewdcats. after we had said our lesson we all skinned out with Mr. Winsor. when we went down Maple street we saw 2 roosters fiting in Dany Wingates yard, and we stoped to see it. i knew more about fiting roosters than any of the fellers, because me and Ed Towle had fit roosters lots. Mr. Winsor said i was a sport, well while the roosters were fiting, sunday school let out and he skipped acros the street and walked off with one of the girls and we hollered for him to come and see the fite out, and he turned red and looked mad. the leghorn squorked and stuck his head into a corner. when a rooster squorks he wont fite any more. Henry A. Shute
In the winter of 1901-02, while rummaging an old closet in the shed-chamber of my father's house, I unearthed a salt-box which had been equipped with leather hinges at the expense of considerable ingenuity, and at a very remote period. In addition to this, a hasp of the same material, firmly fastened by carpet-tacks and a catch of bent wire, bade defiance to burglars, midnight marauders, and safe-breakers.
With the aid of a tack-hammer the combination was readily solved, and an eager examination of the contents of the box disclosed:—
1. Fish-line of braided shoemaker's thread, with perch hook, to which adhered the mummied remains of a worm that lived and flourished many, many years ago.
2. Popgun of pith elder and hoop-skirt wire.
3. Horse-chestnut bolas, calculated to revolve in opposite directions with great velocity, by an up-and-down motion of the holder's wrist; also extensively used for the adornment of telegraph-wires,—there were no telephones in those days,—and the cause of great profanity amongst linemen.
4. More fish-hooks of the ring variety, now obsolete.
5. One blood alley, two chinees, a parti-colored glass agate, three pewees, and unnumbered drab-colored marbles.
6. Small bow of whalebone, with two arrows.
7. Six-inch bean-blower, for school use—a weapon of considerable range and great precision when used with judgment behind a Guyot's Common School Geography.
8. Unexpended ammunition for same, consisting of putty pellets.
9. Frog's hind leg, extra dry.
10. Wing of bluejay, very ditto.
11. Letter from "Beany," postmarked "Biddeford, Me." and expressing great indignation because "Pewt" "hasent wrote."
12. Copy-book inscribed "Diry."
The examination of this copy-book lasted the rest of the day, and it was read with the peculiar pleasure one experiences in reviewing some of the events of a happy boyhood.
With the earnest hope that others may experience a little of the pleasure I gained from the reading, I submit the "Diry" to the public.
Greens and browns are the grasses Tops waving good bye and fare well Breezes humming whispers lights flickered From the grounded earthy loam Freshening breaking scattering sounding Blue skies of whales- Whitely hot and feathers Twinkling of an eye ever so rarely Lashing here for there
When I travel ... bethink about me ... then I will have no longer be stunned so strong thirst ... think spoilt the next morning the helplessness ... Where it is, what next? Not close! It is far away, the future, where it is worth living.
