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Literature

Andrew HamiltonEssays

A quintessential Yankee poem by New England’s quintessential Yankee poet by Andrew Hamilton DISCUSSING Robert Frost’s collection Steeple Bush in the New York Times upon its release in 1947, poet Randall Jarrell devoted the bulk of his review to quoting and summarizing…
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Essays

Robert Pinsky As if we didn’t know (though it’s always good to have irrefutable specifics and confirmation). Vic Olvir, Wilmot Robertson, Dr. William Pierce, and Truman Capote all warned us of the Jewish takeover of American literature 40 years ago and more. by National Justice THE SCHOLARLY…
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Fiction

by Lord Dunsany IT WAS THE custom on Tuesdays in the temple of Chu-bu for the priests to enter at evening and chant, “There is none but Chu-bu.” And all the people rejoiced and cried out, “There is none but Chu-bu.” And honey was offered to Chu-bu, and maize and fat. Thus was he…
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Fiction

by Lord Dunsany IT WAS THE occupation of Mr. Thomas Shap to persuade customers that the goods were genuine and of an excellent quality, and that as regards the price their unspoken will was consulted. And in order to carry on this occupation he went by train very early every morning some few miles nearer…
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Fiction

by Lord Dunsany THE CHILD that played about the terraces and gardens in sight of the Surrey hills never knew that it was he that should come to the Ultimate City, never knew that he should see the Under Pits, the barbicans and the holy minarets of the mightiest city known. I think of him now as a child with a…
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Fiction

by Lord Dunsany DESPITE the advertisements of rival firms, it is probable that every tradesman knows that nobody in business at the present time has a position equal to that of Mr. Nuth. To those outside the magic circle of business, his name is scarcely known; he does not need to advertise, he is consummate.…
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Fiction

by Lord Dunsany SYLVIA, Queen of the Woods, in her woodland palace, held court, and made a mockery of her suitors. She would sing to them, she said, she would give them banquets, she would tell them tales of legendary days, her jugglers should caper before them, her armies salute them, her fools crack jests…
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Fiction

by Lord Dunsany THIS IS the story that the desolate man told to me on the lonely Highland road one autumn evening with winter coming on and the stags roaring. The saddening twilight, the mountain already black, the dreadful melancholy of the stags’ voices, his friendless mournful face, all seemed…
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Fiction

by Lord Dunsany IT WAS AN evening party; and something someone had said to me had started me talking about a subject that to me is full of fascination, the subject of old religions, forsaken gods. The truth (for all religions have some of it), the wisdom, the beauty, of the religions of countries to which…
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Fiction

by Lord Dunsany SITTING SOME years ago in the ancient tavern at Over, one afternoon in Spring, I was waiting, as was my custom, for something strange to happen. In this I was not always disappointed for the very curious leaded panes of that tavern, facing the sea, let a light into the low-ceilinged room…
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