William Dean Howells
Born in Martins Ferry, Ohio, originally Martinsville, to William Cooper and Mary Dean Howells, Howells was the second of eight children. His father was a newspaper editor and printer, and moved frequently around Ohio. Howells began to help his father with typesetting and printing work at an early age. During 1852, his father arranged to have one of Howells' poems published in the Ohio State Journal without telling him.
During 1856, Howells was elected as a Clerk in the State House of Representatives. During 1858, he began to work at the Ohio State Journal where he wrote poetry, short stories, and also translated pieces from French, Spanish, and German. He avidly studied German and... more »
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William Dean Howells Poems
TOSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles, Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath, Through all the moaning chimneys, and 'thwart all the hollows and angles
SOMETHING lies in the room Over against my own; The windows are lit with a ghastly bloom Of candles, burning alone,
We sailed and sailed upon the desert sea Where for whole days we alone seemed to be. At last we saw a dim, vague line arise
From Generation to Generation
INNOCENT spirits, bright, immaculate ghosts! Why throng your heavenly hosts, As eager for their birth
Yes, death is at the bottom of the cup, And every one that lives must drink it up; And yet between the sparkle at the top
The Passengers Of A Retarded Submersible
What was it kept you so long, brave German submersible? We have been very anxious lest matters had not gone well
BEFORE Him weltered like a shoreless sea The souls of them that had not sought to be, With all their guilt upon them, and they cried,
Friends and Foes
BITTER the things one’s enemies will say Against one sometimes when one is away, But of a bitterness far more intense
SOMETIMES, when after spirited debate Of letters or affairs, in thought I go Smiling unto myself, and all aglow
HOW passionately I will my life away Which I would give all that I have to stay; How wildly I hurry, for the change I crave.
What shall it profit?
IF I lay waste and wither up with doubt The blessed fields of heaven where once my faith Possessed itself serenely safe from death;
The Two Wives
THE COLONEL rode by his picket-line In the pleasant morning sun, That glanced from him far off to shine On the crouching rebel picket’s gun.
The Song The Oriole Sings
There is a bird that comes and sings In a professor's garden-trees; Upon the English oak he swings, And tilts and tosses in the breeze.
The Bewildered Guest
I WAS not asked if I should like to come. I have not seen my host here since I came, Or had a word of welcome in his name.
Quotationsmore quotations »
''The mortality of all inanimate things is terrible to me, but that of books most of all.''William Dean Howells (1837-1920), U.S. novelist, critic. Letter, April 6, 1903, to editor Charles Eliot Norton.
''Some people can stay longer in an hour than others can in a week.''William Dean Howells (1837-1920), U.S. novelist, critic. Attributed.
''In Europe life is histrionic and dramatized, and ... in America, except when it is trying to be European, it is direct and sincere.''William Dean Howells (1837-1920), U.S. novelist, critic. "Their Silver Wedding Journey," Harper's (New York, September 1899).
Comments about William Dean Howells
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
TOSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles,
Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath,
Through all the moaning chimneys, and 'thwart all the hollows and
Round the shuddering house, threating of winter and death.
But in my heart I feel the life of the wood and the meadow
Thrilling the pulses that own kindred with fibres that lift
Bud and blade to the sunward, within the inscrutable shadow,
Deep in the oak's chill core, under the ...