You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of

If a man can say of his life or any moment of his life, There is nothing more to be desired! his st… becomes like that told in the famo… double sonnet—but without the

The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail

SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire

The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left

According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field

A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which

Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely

My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.

Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest