#Americans #Jews #XXCentury #1920 #SomethingElseAgain
“Gentle Jane was as good as gold,… To borrow a line from Mr. Gilbert… She hated War with a hate untold, She was a pacifistic filbert. If you said “Perhaps”—she’d leave…
Horace: Book III, Ode 30 “Exegi monumentum aere perennius—” The monument that I have built is… And loftier than the Pyramids whi… No blizzard can destroy it, nor fu…
Horace: Book I, Ode 23 “Vitas hinnuleo me similis, Chloë… Why shun me, my Chloë«? Nor pisto… Is mine with intention to kill. And yet like a llama you run to yo…
[I was talking with a newspaper man the other day who seemed to think that the fact that Mrs. Carlyle threw a teacup at Mr. Carlyle should be given to the public merely as a fact. But a...
AD ARIUSTUM FUSCUM Horace: Book I, Ode 22. ‘_Integer vitae sclerisque purus_'… _Take it from me: A guy who’s squ… His chances always are the best.
Annabel L. Poe, of 1834-1/2 3rd Av., the beautiful young fiancee of Edmund Allyn Poe, a magazine writer from the South, was found dead early this morning on the beach off E. 8th St. Poe...
Motto heartening, inspiring, Framed above my pretty *desk, Never Shelley, Keats, or Byring* Penned a phrase so picturesque! But in me no inspiration
June 30th, 1919 Notably fond of music, I dote on… clearer tone Than ever was blared by a bugle or… by a saxophone;
Although I hate A profiteer With unabat– Ed loathing; Though I detest
“Nam nihil est, quod non mortalibu… Nothing there is that mortal man m… What in our wealth we treasured, i… The gold upon a sinking ship has o… While on a simple oar a shipwrecke…
(Who hitches laundering articles t… string and pastes them on the pane… Lady, thou that livest Just across the way, If a hang thou givest
Horace: Book III, Ode 13 "O fons Bandisiæ, splendidior vit… WORTHY of flowers and syrups sw… O fountain of Bandusian onyx, To-morrow shall a goatling’s bleat
How can I work when you play the… Feminine person above? How can I think, with your ceasel… Singing: ‘Ah, Love-’? How can I dream of a subject aest…
Swift was sweet on Stella; Poe had his Lenore; Burns’ fancy turned to Nancy And a dozen more. Poe was quite a trifler;
Tell me not, in doctored numbers, Life is but a name for work! For the labour that encumbers Me I wish that I could shirk. Life is phony! Life is rotten!