Absolute devotion to the day of her death,
Absolutely, so positively, so almost aggressively truthful
Abstract, the air-drawn, afflicted me like physical discomforts
Act officiously, not officially
Addressed to their tenderness out of his tenderness
Always sumptuously providing out of his destitution
Amiable perception, and yet with a sort of remote absence
Amuse him, even when they wronged him
Amusingly realized the situation to their friends
Anglo-American genius for ugliness
Appeal, which he had come to recognize as invasive
Appeared to have no grudge left
Backed their credulity with their credit
Bayard Taylor: incomparable translation of Faust
Became gratefully strange
Best talkers are willing that you should talk if you like
But now I remember that he gets twenty dollars a month”
Candle burning on the table for the cigars
Celia Thaxter
Charles Reade
Charles F. Browne
Christianity had done nothing to improve morals and conditions
Church: “Oh yes, I go It ‘most kills me, but I go,”
Clemens was sole, incomparable, the Lincoln of our literature
Cold-slaw
Collective opacity
Confidence I have nearly always felt when wrong
Could make us feel that our faults were other people’s
Could easily believe now that it was some one else who saw it
Could only by chance be caught in earnest about anything
Couldn’t fire your revolver without bringing down a two volumer
Dawn upon him through a cloud of other half remembered faces
Death of the joy that ought to come from work
Death’s vague conjectures to the broken expectations of life
Despair broke in laughter
Despised the avoidance of repetitions out of fear of tautology
Did not feel the effect I would so willingly have experienced
Dinner was at the old-fashioned Boston hour of two
Discomfort which mistaken or blundering praise
Dollars were of so much farther flight than now
Edmund Quincy
Edward Everett Hale
Either to deny the substance of things unseen, or to affirm it
Emerson
Enjoying whatever was amusing in the disadvantage to himself
Espoused the theory of Bacon’s authorship of Shakespeare
Ethical sense, not the aesthetical sense
Everlasting rock of human credulity and folly
Expectation of those who will come no more
Express the appreciation of another’s fit word
Feigned the gratitude which I could see that he expected
Fell either below our pride or rose above our purse
Felt that this was my misfortune more than my fault
Few men last over from one reform to another
First dinner served in courses that I had sat down to
Flowers with which we garland our despair in that pitiless hour
Forbearance of a wise man content to bide his time
Forebore to speak needlessly to him, or to shake his hand
Found life was not all poetry
Francis Parkman
Gay laugh comes across the abysm of the years
Generous lover of all that was excellent in literature
George William Curtis
Giggle which Charles Lamb found the best thing in life
Give him your best wine
Got out of it all the fun there was in it
Greeting of great impersonal cordiality
Grieving that there could be such ire in heavenly minds
Hard of hearing on one side. But it isn’t deafness
Harriet Beecher Stowe and the Autocrat clashed upon homeopathy
Hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love
He was not bored because he would not be
He did not care much for fiction
He was not constructive; he was essentially observant
He had no time to make money
He was a youth to the end of his days
He did not paw you with his hands to show his affection
Heine
Heroic lies
His remembrance absolutely ceased with an event
His readers trusted and loved him
His enemies suffered from it almost as much as his friends
His coming almost killed her, but it was worth it
His plays were too bad for the stage, or else too good for it
Hollowness, the hopelessness, the unworthiness of life
Honest men are few when it comes to themselves
I find this young man worthy
I believe neither in heroes nor in saints
I did not know, and I hated to ask
If he was half as bad, he would have been too bad to be
If he was not there to your touch, it was no fault of his
In the South there was nothing but a mistaken social ideal
Incredible in their insipidity
Industrial slavery
Insatiable English fancy for the wild America no longer there
Intellectual poseurs
It is well to hold one’s country to her promises
It was mighty pretty, as Pepys would say
Jane Austen
Julia Ward Howe
Left him to do what the cat might
Lie, of course, and did to save others from grief or harm
Liked being with you, not for what he got, but for what he gave
Liked to find out good things and great things for himself
Lincoln
Literary dislikes or contempts
Livy Clemens: nthe loveliest person I have ever seen
Long breath was not his; he could not write a novel
Longfellow
Looked as if Destiny had sat upon it
Love of freedom and the hope of justice
Love and gratitude are only semi-articulate at the best
Lowell
Made all men trust him when they doubted his opinions
Man who may any moment be out of work is industrially a slave
Man who had so much of the boy in him
Marriages are what the parties to them alone really know
Mellow cordial of a voice that was like no other
Memory will not be ruled
Men who took themselves so seriously as that need
Men’s lives ended where they began, in the keeping of women
Met with kindness, if not honor
Might so far forget myself as to be a novelist
Mind and soul were with those who do the hard work of the world
Mock modesty of print forbids my repeating here
Most desouthernized Southerner I ever knew
Most serious, the most humane, the most conscientious of men
Motley
Napoleonic height which spiritually overtops the Alps
Nearly nothing as chaos could be
Never saw a man more regardful of negroes
Never saw a dead man whom he did not envy
Never paid in anything but hopes of paying
No man ever yet told the truth about himself
No time to make money
No man more perfectly sensed and more entirely abhorred slavery
Not quite himself till he had made you aware of his quality
Not a man who cared to transcend; he liked bounds
Not much patience with the unmanly craving for sympathy
Not much of a talker, and almost nothing of a story-teller
Not possible for Clemens to write like anybody else
Now death has come to join its vague conjectures
NYC, a city where money counts for more and goes for less
Odious hilarity, without meaning and without remission
Offers mortifyingly mean, and others insultingly vague
Old man’s tendency to revert to the past
Old man’s disposition to speak of his infirmities
One could be openly poor in Cambridge without open shame
Only one concerned who was quite unconcerned
Ought not to call coarse without calling one’s self prudish
Pathos of revolt from the colorless rigidities
Person who wished to talk when he could listen
Plain-speaking or Rude Speaking
Pointed the moral in all they did
Polite learning hesitated his praise
Praised it enough to satisfy the author
Praised extravagantly, and in the wrong place
Put your finger on the present moment and enjoy it
Quarrel was with error, and not with the persons who were in it
Quebec was a bit of the seventeenth century
Reformers, who are so often tedious and ridiculous
Remember the dinner-bell
Reparation due from every white to every black man
Secret of the man who is universally interesting
Seen through the wrong end of the telescope
Shackles of belief worn so long
Shy of his fellow-men, as the scholar seems always to be
So refined, after the gigantic coarseness of California
Some superstition, usually of a hygienic sort
Sometimes they sacrificed the song to the sermon
Sought the things that he could agree with you upon
Spare his years the fatigue of recalling your identity
Standards were their own, and they were satisfied with them
Stoddard
Study in a corner by the porch
Stupidly truthful
The world is well lost whenever the world is wrong
The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it
Things common to all, however peculiar in each
Thoreau
Those who have sorrowed deepest will understand this best
Times when a man’s city was a man’s country
Tired themselves out in trying to catch up with him
True to an ideal of life rather than to life itself
Truthful
Turn of the talk toward the mystical
Used to ingratitude from those he helped
Vacuous vulgarity of its texts
Visited one of the great mills
Walter-Scotticized, pseudo-chivalry of the Southern ideal
Wasted face, and his gay eyes had the death-look
We have never ended before, and we do not see how we can end
Welcome me, and make the least of my shyness and strangeness
Well, if you are to be lost, I want to be lost with you
What he had done he owned to, good, bad, or indifferent
When to be an agnostic was to be almost an outcast
Whether every human motive was not selfish
Whitman’s public use of his privately written praise
Wit that tries its teeth upon everything
Women’s rights
Wonder why we hate the past so—“It’s so damned humiliating!”
Wonderful to me how it should remain so unintelligible
Work gives the impression of an uncommon continuity
Wrote them first and last in the spirit of Dickens
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