The white youth of today have begun to react to the fact that the "American Way of Life" is a fossil of history. What do they care... if their old baldheaded and crew-cut elders don't dig their caveman mops? They couldn't care less about the old, stiffassed honkies who don't like their new dances: Frug, Monkey, Jerk, Swim, Watusi. All they know is that it feels good to swing to way-out body-rhythms instead of dragassing across the dance floor like zombies to the dead beat of mind-smothered Mickey Mouse music.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, lea...ving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. ... But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, 'Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.'LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Nelse McLeod: Faith can move mountains Milt, but it can't beat a faster draw. There's only three men I know with his kind of speed...--one's dead, the other's me, and the third is Cole Thornton. Cole Thornton: There's a fourth. McLeod: Which one are you? Thornton: I'm Thornton.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
It is the fixed that horrifies us, the fixed that assails us with the tremendous force of mindlessness. The fixed is a Mason jar, ...and we can't beat it open. ...The fixed is a world without fire--dead flint, dead tinder, and nowhere a spark. It is motion without direction, force without power, the aimless procession of caterpillars round the rim of a vase, and I hate it because at any moment I myself might step to that charmed and glistening thread.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Are you shouting at me, dead man, squeezing your face In agonies of speech on speechless panes?... Cry louder, beat the windows, bawl your name!LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Far in the night, as we were falling asleep on the bank of the Merrimack, we heard some tyro beating a drum incessantly, in prepar...ation for a country muster, as we learned, and we thought of the line,-- "When the drum beat at dead of night." We could have assured him that his beat would be answered, and the forces be mustered. Fear not, thou drummer of the night; we too will be there. And still he drummed on in the silence and the dark. This stray sound from a far-off sphere came to our ears from time to time, far, sweet, and significant, and we listened with such an unprejudiced sense as if for the first time we heard at all. No doubt he was an insignificant drummer enough, but his music afforded us a prime and leisure hour, and we felt that we were in season wholly. These simple sounds related us to the stars.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
'Oh beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly, Play the Dead March as you carry me along;... Take me to the green valley, there lay the sod o'er me, For I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, n...either shall they learn war any more.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
During those years in Stamps, I met and fell in love with William Shakespeare. He was my first white love.... it was Shakespeare w...ho said, "When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes." It was a state of mind with which I found myself most familiar. I pacified myself about his whiteness by saying that after all he had been dead so long it couldn't matter to anyone any more.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »