A cow does not know how much milk it has until the milkman starts working on it. Then it looks round in surprise and sees the pail... full to the brim. In the same way a writer has no idea how much he has to say till his pen draws it out of him. Thoughts will then appear on the paper that he is amazed to find that he possessed. "How brilliant!" he says to himself. "I had no idea I was so intelligent." But the reader may not be so im pressed.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
O thou undaunted daughter of desires! By all thy dower of lights and fires;... By all the eagle in thee, all the dove; By all thy lives and deaths of love; By thy large draughts of intellectual day, And by thy thirsts of love more large then they; By all thy brim-fill'd Bowls of fierce desire, By thy last Morning's draught of liquid fire; By the full kingdom of that final kiss That seiz'd thy parting Soul, and seal'd thee his;LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
If there were, oh! an Hellespont of cream Between us, milk-white mistress, I would swim... To you, to show to both my love's extreme, Leander-like,--yea! dive from brim to brim.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Three little maids from school are we, Pert as a school-girl well can be,... Filled to the brim with girlish glee, Three little maids from school!LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
We quaff the cup of life with eager haste without draining it, instead of which it only overflows the brim--objects press around u...s, filling the mind with their magnitude and with the throng of desires that wait upon them, so that we have no room for the thoughts of death.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,... With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth;LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
An oblong puddle inset in the coarse asphalt; like a fancy footprint filled to the brim with quicksilver; like a spatulate hole th...rough which you can see the nether sky. Surrounded, I note, by a diffuse tentacled black dampness where some dull dun dead leaves have stuck. Drowned, I should say, before the puddle had shrunk to its present size.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
There is a cheap literature that speaks to us of the need of escape. It is true that when we travel we are in search of distance. ...But distance is not to be found. It melts away. And escape has never led anywhere. The moment a man finds that he must play the races, go the Arctic, or make war in order to feel himself alive, that man has begin to spin the strands that bind him to other men and to the world. But what wretched strands! A civilization that is really strong fills man to the brim, though he never stir. What are we worth when motionless, is the question.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »