William Dean Howells
William Dean Howells
William Dean Howellswas an American realist novelist, literary critic, and playwright. Nicknamed "The Dean of American Letters", he was particularly known for his tenure as editor of The Atlantic Monthly as well as his own prolific writings, including the Christmas story "Christmas Every Day", and the novels The Rise of Silas Lapham and A Traveler from Altruria...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth1 March 1837
CountryUnited States of America
american-author seem shall
Tomorrow I shall be sixty-nine, but I do not seem to care. I did not start the affair, and I have not been consulted about it at any step.
hour longer people
Some people can stay longer in an hour than others can in a week.
american-author curiosity man
The secret of the man who is universally interesting is that he is universally interested.
action best greatest happiness
The action is best that secures the greatest happiness for the greatest number.
gun blessing civilization
Preach the blessings of our deeply incorporated civilization by the mouths of our eight-inch guns.
art apples tree
Out of the fragrant heart of bloom, The bobolinks are singing; Out of the fragrant heart of bloom The apple-tree whispers to the room, "Why art thou but a nest of gloom While the bobolinks are singing?
running tired science
The swelling and towering omnibuses, the huge trucks and wagons and carriages, the impetuous hansoms and the more sobered four-wheelers, the pony-carts, donkey-carts, hand-carts, and bicycles which fearlessly find their way amidst the turmoil, with foot-passengers winding in and out, and covering the sidewalks with their multitude, give the effect of a single monstrous organism, which writhes swiftly along the channel where it had run in the figure of a flood till you were tired of that metaphor. You are now a molecule of that vast organism.
long community suffering
Each one of us must suffer long to himself before he can learn that he is but one in a great community of wretchedness which has been pitilessly repeating itself from the foundation of the world.
art singing nests
Why art thou but a nest of gloom While the bobolinks are singing?
book inanimate-objects mortality
The mortality of all inanimate things is terrible to me, but that of books most of all.
filled-up rooms world
There will presently be no room in the world for things; it will be filled up with the advertisements of things.
change sarcastic people
Some people stay longer in an hour than others can in a week.