A Magnificent Farce: And Other Diversions of a Book-collector

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Atlantic Monthly Press, 1921 - Bibliomania - 267 pages

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User Review  - Crypto-Willobie - LibraryThing

I recommend the amusing essay "What Is the Matter with the Bookshop" -- it's surprising how much of this still applies to bookselling. Read full review

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Page 204 - I'll tell thee, Little Lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a Lamb. He is meek, and He is mild; He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Page 204 - Tiger, tiger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry ? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes ? On what wings dare he aspire ? What the hand dare seize the fire...
Page 204 - Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice?
Page 203 - So I piped with merry cheer. ' Piper, pipe that song again : ' So I piped ; he wept to hear. 'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe, Sing thy songs of happy cheer : ' So I sung the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. ' Piper, sit thee down and write In a book that all may read...
Page 130 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start...
Page 204 - I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I watered it in fears Night and morning with my tears, And I sunned it with smiles And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright, And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine,— And into my garden stole When the night had...
Page 87 - The Three Princes of Serendip. As their Highnesses travelled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of...
Page 204 - Tiger! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors...
Page 112 - Why, Dr. Johnson, this is not so easy as you seem to think; for if you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like WHALES.
Page 247 - If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work...

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