I was not at all shocked with this execution at the time. John died seemingly without much pain. He was effectually hanged, the ro...pe having fixed upon his neck very firmly, and he was allowed to hang near three quarters of an hour; so that any attempt to recover him would have been in vain. I comforted myself in thinking that by giving up the scheme I had avoided much anxiety and uneasiness.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Sue Forbes: Old man routine getting you down? John Forbes: Oh, I don't know. Sometimes I get to feel like a wheel within a wh...eel within a wheel. Sue Forbes: You and fifty million others. John Forbes: I don't want to be like fifty million others. Sue Forbes: Oh, but you're John Forbes, average American, backbone of the country. John Forbes: I don't want to be an average American, backbone of the country. I want somebody else to be the backbone and hold me up.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
When John Henry was a little fellow, You could hold him in the palm of your hand,... He said to his pa, "When I grow up I'm gonna be a steel-driving man. Gonna be a steel-driving man."LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The death of John Barrymore made us think again for a minute of F. Scott Fitzgerald. They were very different men: a lot alike. Un...doubtedly, they both worked hard, but there was the same sense of a difficult technique easily mastered (too easily perhaps); there was the same legend of great physical magnetism, working incessantly for its own destruction; there was the same need for public confession, either desperate or sardonic; and there was always a good deal of time wasted, usually accompanied by the sweet smell of grapes. We have seen Scott Fitzgerald when everything he said was a childish parody of his own talent, and the last time we saw John Barrymore he was busy with a sick and humiliating parody of his. The similarity probably ends there. Up to the day he died, we believe, Fitzgerald still kept his original and eager devotion to his profession, along, we like to think, with the strict confidence that he might still achieve the strict perfection that was so often almost his. Barrymore, on the other hand, had given up long ago.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The Negro has no name. He is Cuffy Douglas or Cuffy Brooks, just whose Cuffy he may chance to be. The Woman has no name. She is Mr...s. Richard Roe or Mrs. John Doe, just whose Mrs. she may chance to be. Cuffy has no right to his earnings; he can not buy or sell, or lay up. Mrs. Roe has no right to her earnings; she can neither buy nor sell, make contracts, nor lay up anything that she can call her own. Cuffy has no right to his children; they can be sold from him at any time. Mrs. Roe has no right to her children; they may be bound out to cancel a father's debt of honor. The unborn child, even by the last will of the father, may be placed under the guardianship of a stranger and a foreigner. Cuffy has no legal existence; he is subject to restraint and moderate chastisement. Mrs. Roe has no legal existence; she has not the best right to her own person. The husband has the power to restrain, and administer moderate chastisement.... The prejudice against color, of which we hear so much, is no stronger than that against sex. It is produced by the same cause, and manifested very much in the same way. The Negro's skin and the woman's sex are both prima facie evidence that they were intended to be in subjection to the white Saxon man. The few social privileges which the man gives the woman, he makes up to the (free) Negro in civil rights.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
screenwriter Manchester was the residence of John Stark, a hero of two wars, and survivor of a third, and at his death the la...st but one of the American generals of the Revolution.... His monument stands upon the second bank of the river, about a mile and a half above the falls, and commands a prospect several miles up and down the Merrimack. It suggested how much more impressive in the landscape is the tomb of a hero than the dwellings of the inglorious living. Who is most dead,--a hero by whose monument you stand, or his descendants of whom you have never heard?LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The Indian said that he had got his money by hunting, mostly high up the West Branch of the Penobscot, and toward the head of the ...St. John; he had hunted there from a boy, and knew all about that region. His game had been beaver, otter, black cat (or fisher), sable, moose, etc. Loup-cervier (or Canada lynx) were plenty yet in burnt grounds. For food in the woods, he uses partridges, ducks, dried moose-meat, hedgehog, etc. Loons, too, were good, only "bile 'em good." He told us at some length how he had suffered from starvation when a mere lad, being overtaken by winter when hunting with two grown Indians in the northern part of Maine, and obliged to leave their canoe on account of ice.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
They warsled up, they warsled down, Till Sir John fell to the ground,... And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch, Gied him a deadlie wound.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
But Father John went up, And Father John went down;... And he wore small holes in his shoes, And he wore large holes in his gown.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »