Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936) English short-story writer, poet, and novelist
King George V's Christmas broadcast, 1932 http://www.royalinsight.gov.uk/output/Page3643.asp <br class="br">Other works
Source: Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895), P. 83.
Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936) English short-story writer, poet, and novelist
King George V's Christmas broadcast, 1932 http://www.royalinsight.gov.uk/output/Page3643.asp <br class="br">Other works
Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849) American author, poet, editor and literary critic
"To One In Paradise", st. 4; variants of this verse read "where thy dark eye glances".
Faiz Ahmad Faiz (1911–1984) Punjabi poet
quoted from Tariq Ali - The Clash of Fundamentalisms_ Crusades, Jihads and Modernity-Verso (2002)
George William Russell (1867–1935) Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter
By Still Waters (1906)
Jimmy Swaggart (1935) pastor, musician, teacher, television host, televangelist
Source: Address to his congregation (21 February 1988), as quoted in The New Encyclopedia of American Scandal (2001) by George C. Kohn, p. 365
James Hamilton (1814–1867) Scottish minister and a prolific author of religious tracts
Source: Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895), P. 84.
Abbott Eliot Kittredge (1834–1912) American minister
Source: Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895), P. 69.
Horace Bushnell (1802–1876) American theologian
Source: Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895), P. 86.
Adelaide Anne Procter (1825–1864) English poet and songwriter
"A Little Longer".
Legends and Lyrics: A Book of Verses (1858)
Woody Guthrie (1912–1967) American singer-songwriter and folk musician
"Notes about Music" (29 March 1946) http://web.archive.org/19991001055247/www.geocities.com/Nashville/3448/music.html also quoted in A Race of Singers: Whitman's Working-Class Hero from Guthrie to Springsteen (2000) by Bryan K. Garman, p. 244 <br class="br">Context: I have hoped as many hopes and dreamed so many dreams, seen them swept aside by weather, and blown away by men, washed away in my own mistakes, that — I use to wonder if it wouldn't be better just to haul off and quit hoping. Just protect my own inner brain, my own mind and heart, by drawing it up into a hard knot, and not having any more hopes or dreams at all. Pull in my feelings, and call back all of my sentiments — and not let any earthly event move me in either direction, either cause me to hate, to fear, to love, to care, to take sides, to argue the matter at all — and, yet … there are certain good times, and pleasures that I never can forget, no matter how much I want to, because the pleasures, and the displeasures, the good times and the bad, are really all there is to me.<br>And these pleasures that you cannot ever forget are the yeast that always starts working in your mind again, and it gets in your thoughts again, and in your eyes again, and then, all at once, no matter what has happened to you, you are building a brand new world again, based and built on the mistakes, the wreck, the hard luck and trouble of the old one.