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45 Cards in this Set
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“I doubt not but the Reader will quickly find more than Ican say, and the worst effect of his reading will be unbelief which will makehim question whether it be a woman’s work, and ask, is it possible? If any do,take this as an answer from him that dares avow it: it is the work of a woman,honoured and esteemed where she lives, for her gracious demeanor, her eminentparts, her pious conversation, her courteous disposition, her exact diligencein her place, and discrete managing of her family occasions, and more than so,these poems are the fruit but of some few hours, and cutailed from her sleepand other refreshments.” |
Simon Woodbridge (Anne Bradstreet’s Brother-in-law) His openingletter of the Tenth Muse (Bradstreet’s collection of poems) |
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“I muse whether at length these girls will go; It half revives my chill frost-bitten blood, To see a woman once do ought that’s good; And shod by Chauncer’s boots, and Homer’s furs, Let men look to’t, lest women wear the spurs.” |
Nathaniel Ward One of theopening excerpts/poems in the beginning of Tenth Muse (to legitimize her work) |
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“What you have done, the sun shall witness bear,That for a woman’s work ‘tis very rare;And if the nine, vouvhsafe the tenth a place,I think they rightly may yield you that grace.”“Now I believe tradition, which doth call the Muses, Virtues, Graces, females all;Only they are not nine, eleven nor three;Our auth’ress proves them but one unity.” |
Simon Woodbridge…again Beginningof Tenth Muse |
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“If women, I with women may compare, Your works are solid , others weak as air;Some books of women I haave heard of late,Perused some, so witless, so intricate,So void of sense, and truth, as it to errWere only wished (acting above their sphere)And all to get, what (silly souls) they lack,Esteem to be the wisest of the pack.” |
Simon Woodbridge Another oneof the opening excerpts/poems to Tenth Muse |
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To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings, Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun, For my mean Pen are too superior things; Or how they all, or each their dates have run, Let poets and Historians set these forth.Obscure lines shall not so dim their worth. |
Anne Bradstreet Prologue, 1st stanza |
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“BUT sure theantique Greeks were far more mild, Else of our Sex, why feigned the those nineAnd poesy made Calliope’s own child? So ‘mongst the rest they palced the Arts divine,But this weak knot they will full soon untie. The Greeks did nought but play the fools and lie.” |
Anne Bradstreet Prologue, 6th stanza |
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“ 'Twas mercybrought me from my Pagan land,Taught my benightedsoul to understand That there’s aGod, that there;s a Saviour too:Once I redemptionneither sought nor knew.Some view oursable race with scournful eye,“Their colour is a diabolic die.” Remember,Christians, Negros, black as Cain,May be refin’eand join th’angelic train.” |
Phyllis Wheatley On Being Brought from Africa to America (Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral) |
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“It was aboutthis time I conceiv’d the bold and arduous project of arriving at moralperfection. I wish’d tolive without commiting any fault at any time; I wouldconquer all that either natural inclination, custom, or sompany might lead meinto. As I knew, or thought I knew, what was right and wrong, I did not see whyI might not always do the one and avoid the other. But I soon found I hadundertaken a task of more difficulty than I bad imagined.” |
Benjamin Franklin Autobiography |
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“My intention being to acquire the habitude of all thesevirtues, I judg’d it would be well not to distract my attention by attempting thewhole at once, but to fix it on one of them at a time; and, when I should bemaster of that, then to proceed to another, and so on, till I should have gonethro’ the thirteen; and, as the previous acquisition of some might facilitatethe acquisition of certain others, I arrnag’d them with thath view, as theystand above” |
B Franks Autobiography |
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“Having emerged from the poverty and obscurity in which Iwas born and bred, to a state of affluence and some degree of reputation in theworld, and having gone so far through life with a considerable share offelicity, the conducing means I made use of, which with the blessing of God sowell succeeded, my posterity may like to know, as they may find some of themsuitable to their own situations, and therefore fit to be imitated.” |
B Franks Autobiography |
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“It may be well my posterity should be informed that to thislittle artifice, with the blessing of God, their ancestor ow’d the constantfelicity of his life, down to his 79th year, in which this iswritten” |
B Franks Autobiography |
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“My holiday afternoons were spent in rambles about thesurrounding country. I made myself familiar with all its places famous inhistory or fable. I knew every spot where a murder or robbery had beencommitted, or a ghost seen. I visited the neighboring villages, and addedgreatly t my stock of knowledge, by noting their habits and customs, andconversing with their sages and great men. I even journeyed one long summer’sday to the summit of the most distant hill, whence I stretched my eye overmanya mile of terra incognita, and wasastonished to find how vast a globe I inhabited.” |
Goffrey Crayon (aka Washington Irving) TheAuthor’s Account of Himself, from The Sketch Book (By Goffrey Crayon) |
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“I visited various parts of my own country; and had I beenmerely a lover of fine scenery, I should have felt little desire to seekelsewhere its gratification, for on no country have the charms of nature beenmore prodigally lavished. Her mightly lakes, like oceans of liquid silver; hermountains, with their bright aerial tints; her valleys, teeming with wildfertility; her tremendous cataracts, thundering in their solitudes; herboundless plains, waving with spontaneous verdure; her broad deep rivers,rolling in solemn silence to the ocean; her trackless forests, where vegetationputs forth all its magnificence; her skies kindling with the magic of summerclouds and glorious sunshine; -- no, never need an American look beyond his owncountry for the sublime and beautiful of natural scenery.” |
Goffrey Crayon (Irving) TheAuthor’s Account of Himself; from The Sketch Book |
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“The following Tale was found among the papers of the lateDiedrich Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who was very curious inthe Dutch history of the province, and the manners of the descendants from itsprimitive settlers. His historical researches, however did not lie so muchamong the books as among men; for the former are lamentably scanty on hisfavorite topics; whereas he found the old burghers, and still more their wives,rich in that legendary lore, so invaluable to true history” |
Crayon giving credit to Knockerbocker (but really, it’s ALLIrving) Via TheSketch Book |
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“The very village was altered; it was larger and morepopulous. There were rows of houses which he ad never seen before, and thosewhich had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were overdoors – strange faces at the windows – every thing was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to doubtwhether both he and the world around him were not bewitched. Surely this washis native village, which he had left but the day before. There stood theKaatskill mountains – there ran the silver Hudson at a distance – there wasevery hill and dale precisely as it had always been – Rip was sorely perplexed– ‘That flagon last night,’ thought he, ‘has addled my poor head sadly!’” |
Diedrich Knickerbocker (Irving) Rip VanWinkle, The Sketch Book |
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“In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indentthe eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the riverdenominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where theyalways prudently shortened the sail and implored the protection of St. Nicholaswhen they crossed, there lies a small market town or rural port, which by someis called Greensburgh, but which is more genrally and properly known by thename Tarry Town…Not far from this village, perhaps about two miles, there is alittle valley or rather lap of land among high hills, which is one of thequietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, with justmurmur enough to lull one to repose; and to occasional whistle of a quail ortapping of a woodpecker is almost the only sound that ever breaks in upon theuniform tranquility.” |
Diedrich Knickerbocker (Irving) The Legendof Sleepy Hollow, The Sketch Book |
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“I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud, for itis in such little retire Dutch valleys, found here and there emobosomed in thegreat state of New York, that population, manners, and customs remained fixed,while the great torrent of migration and improvement, which is making suchincessant changes in other parts of this restless country, sweeps by themunobserved. They are like those little nooks of still water, which border arapid stream, where we may see the straw and bubble riding quietly at anchor,or slowly revolving in their mimic harbor, undisturbed by the rush of thepassing current. Though many years have elapsed since I trod the drowsy shadesof Sleep Hollow, yet I question whether I should not still find the same treesand the same families vegetating in its sheltered bosom.” |
Diedrich Knickerbocker The Legendof Sleepy Hollow, The Sketch Book |
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“In this by-place of nature there abode, in a remote periodof American history, that is to say, some thirty years since, a worthy wight ofthe name of Ichabod Crane” |
Diedrich Knickerbocker The Legendof Sleepy Hollow, The Sketch Book |
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“He was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewdness andsimple credulity. His appetite for the marvelous, and his powers of digestingit, were equally extraordinary; and both had been increased by his residence inthis spell-bound region. No tale was too gross or too monstrous for hiscapacious swallow. It was often his delight, after his school was dismissed inthe afternoon, to stretch himself on the rich bed of clover bordering thelittle brook that whimpered by his schoolhouse, and there con over old Mather’sdireful tales, until the gathering dusk of evening made the printed page a meremist before his eyes. Then, as he wended his way by swamp and stream and awfulwoodland, to the farmhouse where he happened to be quartered, every sound ofnature, ar that witching hour, fluttered his excited imagination…His onlyresource on such occasions, wither to drown thought of drive away evil spirits,was to sing psalm tunes and the good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat bytheir doors of an evening, were often filled with awe at hearing his nasalmelody, “in linked sweetness long drawn out,” floating from the distant hill,or along the dusky road.” |
Diedrich Knickerbocker The Legendof Sleepy Hollow, The Sketch Book |
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“Perhaps the time is already come, when it ought to be, andwill be, something else; when the sluggard intellect of this continent willlook from under its iron lids and fill the postponed expectation of the worldwith something better than the exertions of mechanical skill. Our day ofdependence, out long apprenticeship to the learning of other lands, draws to aclose. The millions, that around us are ruching into life, cannot always be fedon the sere remains of foreign harvests. Event, actions rise, that must besung, that will sing themselves” |
Ralph Waldo Emerson TheAmerican Scholar |
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“The first time iand the first in importance of theinfluences upon the mind is that of nature. Every day, the sun; and, aftersunset, night and her stars. Ever the wind blows; ever the grass grows. Everyday, men and women, conversing, beholding and beholden. The scholar is he ofall men whom this spectacle most engages. He must settle its value in his mind.What is nature to him> There is never a beginning, there is never and end,to the inexplicable continuity of this web of God, but always circular power returninginto itself. Therein it resembles his own spirit, whose beginning, whoseending, he never can find, -- so entire, so boundless. Far, too, as hersplendors shine, system on system shooting like rays, upward, downward, withoutcentre, without circumference, -- in the mass and in the particle, naturehastens to render account of herself to the mind.” |
Ralph Waldo Emerson TheAmerican Scholar |
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“Him nature solicits with all her placid, all her monitorypictures; him the past instructs; him the future invites. Is notm indeed, everyman a student, and do not all things exist for the student’s behoof?” |
Emerson TheAmerican Scholar |
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“He shall see, that nature is the opposite of the soulanswering to it part for part. One is seal, and one is print. Its beauty is thebeauty of his own mind. Its laws are the laws of his own mind. Nature thenbecomes to him the measure of his attainments. So much of nature as he isignorant of, so much of his own mind does he not yet possess. And, in fine, theancient precept, ‘Know thyself;,’ and the modern precept, ‘Study nature,’become at last one maxim.” |
Ralph Waldo Emerson TheAmerican Scholar |
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“It is the raw material out of which the intellect mouldsher splendid products. A strange process too, this, by which experience isconverted into thought, as a mulberry leaf is converted into satin. Themanufacture goes forward at all hours.” |
Ralph Waldo Emerson TheAmerican Scholar |
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“If there be one lesson more than another, which shouldpierce his ear, it is, The world is nothing, the man is all; in yourself is thelaw of all nature, and you know not yet ho a globule of sap ascends; inyourself slumbers the whole of Reason; it is for you to know all, it is for youto dare all. Mr. President and Gentlemen, this confidence in the unsearchedmight man belongs, by all motives, by all prophecy, by all preparation, to theAmerican Scholar. We have listened too long to the courtly muses of Europe. Thespirit of the American freeman is already suspected to be timid, imitative,tame” |
Ralph Waldo Emerson The American Scholar |
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“The breadth of the problem is great, for the poet is representative. He stands among partial menfor the complete man, and apprises us not of his wealth, but of thecommon-wealth” |
Ralph Waldo Emerson The Poet |
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“The etymologist finds the deadest word to haveonce been a brilliant picture. Language is fossil poetry.” |
Emerson The Poet |
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“The use of symbols has a certain power of emancipation andexhilaration for all men. We seem to be touched by a wand, which makes us danceand run about happily, like children. We are like persons who come out of acave or cellar into the open air. This is the effect on us of tropes, fables,oracles, and all poetic forms. Poets are thus liberating gods.” |
Emerson The Poet |
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“I look in vain for the poet whom I describe. We do no, withsufficient plainness, or sufficient profoundness, address ourselves to life,nor dare we chaunt out own times and social circumstance. If we filled the daywith bravery, we should not shrink from celebrating it. Time and nature yieldus many gifts, but not yet the timely man, the new religion, the reconciler,whom all things await.” |
Emerson The Poet |
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“We have had no genius is America, with tyrannous eye, whichknew the value of our incomparable materials, and saw, in the barbarism andmaterialism of the times, another carnival of the same gods whose picture he somuch admires in Homer; then in the middle age; then in Calvinism. Banks andtariffs, the newspaper and caucus, Methodism and Unitarianism, are flat anddull to people, but rest on the same foundations of wonder as the town of Troy,and the temple of Delphos, and are as swiftly passing away. Our logrolling, ourstumps and their politics, our fisheries, our Negroes, and Indians, our boasts,our repudiations, the wrath of rogues, and the pusillanimity of honest men, thenorthern trade, the southern planting, the western clearing, Oregon and Texas,are yet unsung. Yet America is still a poem in our eyes; its ample geographydazzles the imagination, and it will not wait long for metres.” |
Emerson The Poet |
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“Doubt not, O Poet, but persist, Say, “It is me, and shallout.’ Stand there, baulked and dumb, stuttering and stammering, hissed andhooted, stand and strive, until, at last, rage draw out of thee thatdream-power which every night shows thee is thine own; a power transcending alllimit and privacy, and by virtue of which a man is the conductor of the wholeriver of electricity. Nothing walks, or creeps, or grows, or exists, which mustnot in turn arise and walk before him as exponent of his meaning.” |
Emerson The Poet |
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“Poor little Faith!” tought he,for his heart smote him. What a wretch am I to leave her on such an errand! Shetalks of dreams, too, Methough as she spoke there was trouble in her face, asif a dream had warned her what work is to be done tonight. But no, not; ‘twould kill her to think it. Well, she’s a blessed angel on earth; and afterthis one night I’ll cling to her skirts and follow her to heaven.” With this excellent resolve for thefuture, Goodman Brown felt himself justified in making more haste on hispresent evil purpose. |
Hawthorne Young Goodman Brown |
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“My father never went into the woods on such an errand, nor his fatherbefore him. We have been a race of honest men and good Christians since the daysof the martyrs; and shall I be the first of the name of Brown that ever tookthis path and kept –“I have been as well acquainted with your family as withever a one among the Puritans; and that’s not trifle to say. I helped your grandfather, the constable, when helashed the Quaker woman so smartly through the streets of Salem; and it was Ithat brought your father a pitch-pine knot, kindled at my own hearth, to setfire to an Indian village, in King Philip’s war. They were my good rfiends,both; and many a pleasant walk have we had along this path, and returnedmerrily after midnight. I would fain be friends with you for their sake.” |
Hawthorne Young Goodman Brown |
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“if it be as thou sayest,”replied Goodman Brown, “I marvel they never spoke of these matters; or verily,I marvel not, seeing that the least rumor of the sort would have driven themfrom New England. We are a people of prayer, and good works to boot, and abideno such wickedness.” “Wickedness or not,” said the travellerwith the twisted staff, “I have a very general acquaintance her in New England.The deacons of many a church have drunk the communion wine with me; theselectmen of divers towns make me their chairman; and majority of the Great andGeneral Court are firm supporters of my interest. The governor and I, too – Butthere are state secrets.” |
Hawthorne Young Goodman Brown |
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“In truth, all through thehaunted forest there could be nothing more frightful that the figure of GoodmanBrown. On he flew among the black pines, brandishing his staff with frenziedgestures, now giving vent to as inspiration of horrid blasphemy, and nowshouting forth such laughter as set all the echoes of the forest laughing likedemons around him. The fiend in his own shape is less hideous that when herages in the breast of man.” |
Hawthorne Young Goodman Brown |
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“At the same moment the fire onthe rock shot redly forth and formed a glowing arch above its base, where nowappeared a figure. With reverence be it spoken, the figure bore no slightsimilitude, both in garb and manner, to some grave divine of the New Englandchurches.” |
Hawthorne Young Goodman Brown |
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“It was tinged, rather moredarkly that usual, with the gentle gloom of Mr. Hooper’s temperament. Thesubject had reference to secret sin, and those sad mysteries which we hide fromour nearest and dearest, and would fain conceal from our own consciousness,even forgetting hat the Omniscient can detect them. A subtle power was breathedinto his words. Each member of the congregation, the most innocent girl, andthe man of hardened breast, felt as if the preacher had crept upon then, behindhis awful veil, and discovered their hoarded iniquity of deed or thought.” |
Hawthorne The MInister's Black Veil |
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“I need scarcely observe that apoem deserves it title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul. Thevalue of the poem is in ratio of this elevating excitement. But all excitementsare, through a psychal mecessity, transient. That degree of excitement whichwould entitle a poem to be so called at all, cannot be sustained throughout acomposition of any great length. After the lapse of half an hour, at the veryutmost, it flags – fails – a revulsion ensues – and then the poem is, ineffect, and in fact, no longer such.” |
Edgar Allan Poe The Poetic Principle |
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“That pleasure which is at oncethe most intense, the most elevating, and the most pure is, I believe found inthe contemplation of the beautiful. When, indeed, men speak of Beauty, theymean, precisely, not a quality, as is supposed, but an effect – they refer, inshort, just to that intense and pure elevation of soul – not of intellect, orof heart – upon which I have commented, and which is experienced in consequenceof contemplating the “beautiful.” Now I designate Beauty as the province of thepoem, merely because it is an obvious rule of Art that effects should be madeto spring from direct causes – that objects should be attained through meansbest adapted for their attainment – no one as yet having been weak anough todeny that the peculiar elevation alluded to is most readily attained” |
Poe Philosophy of Composition |
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“Regarding, then, Beauty as myprovince, my next question referred to the tone of its highest manifestation –and all experience has shown that this tone is one of sadness. Beauty ofwhatever kind in its supreme development invariably excites the sensitive soulto tears. Melancholy is thus the most legitimate of all the poetical tones.” |
Poe The Philosophy of Composition |
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“I had now gone so far as theconception of a Raven, the bird of ill-omen, monotonously repeating theone word‘Nevermore’ at the conclusion of each stanza in a poem of melancholy tone, andin length about one hundred lines. Now, never losing sight of the object ofsupremeness of perfection at all points, I asked myself – ‘Of all melancholytopics what, according to the universal understanding of mankind, is the mostmelancholy?’ Death, was the obvious reply. ‘And when,’ I said, ‘is this mostmelancholy of topics most poetical?’ From what I have already explained at somelength the answer here also is obvious – ‘When it most closely allies itself toBeauty: the death then of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poeticaltopic in the world, and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suitedfor such topic are those of a bereaved lover.” |
Poe The Philosophy of Composition |
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“It will be observed that thewords, ‘from out my heart,’ involve the first metaphorical expression in thepoem. They, with the answer, ‘Nevermore,’ dispose the mind to seek a moral inall that has been previously narrated. The reader begins now to regard theRaven as emblematical – but it is not until the very last line of the very laststanza that the intention of making him emblematical of Mournful and neverending Remembrance is permitted distinctly to be seen…” |
Poe The Philosophy of Composition |
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Science! True daughter of OldTime thou art!Who alterest all things with thypeering eyes.Why preyest thou thus uponthepoet’s heart,Vulture, whose wings are dullrealities?How should he love thee? Or howdeem thee wise,Who wouldst not leave him in hiswanderingTo seek for treasure in thejeweled skies,Albeit he soared with anundaunted wing?Hast thou not dragged Diana fromher car,And driven the Hamadryad from thewoodTo seek a shelter in some happierstar?Hast thou not torn the Naiad fromher flood,The Elfin from the green grass,and from meThe summer dream beneath thetamarind tree? |
Poe Sonnet to Science |
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The skies they were ashen andsober;The leaves they were crisped andsere –The leaves they were witheringand sere;It was night in the lonesomeOctoberOf my most immemorial year;It was hard by the dim lake ofAuber,In the misty mid region of Weir –It was down by the dank tarn ofAuber,In the ghoul-haunted woodlandWeir. Here once through an alleyTitanic,Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul–Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.These were days when my heart wasvolcanicAs the scoriac rivers that roll –As the lavas that relentlesslyrollTheir sulphurous surrent downYanekIn the ultimate climes of thepole –The groan as they roll down MountYaanekIn the realms of the boreal pole. Our talk had been serious andsober,But our thoughts they werepalsied and sere –Ur memories were treacherous andsere –For we knew not the month wasOctober,And we marked not the night ofthe year – (Ah, night of all nights in theyear!)We noted not the dim lake ofAuber –(Though once we had journeyeddown here) –We remembered not the dank tarnof Auber,Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland ofWeir. |
Poe Ulalume |
