Glimpses of Fifty Years: The Autobiography of an American Woman
Woman's Temperance Publication Association, 1889 - American diaries - 698 pages
Willard's autobiography is not only the story of an outstanding woman of the 19th century, it is the personal history of the W.C.T.U., the largest of the 19th century women's organizations.
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asked beautiful believe better boys brother called Chicago Christian church College coming convention dear early Evanston eyes face faith father feel four friends gave girls give given hand head hear heard heart honor hope hour human interest keep kind knew ladies learned less live look Mary means meeting mind Miss morning mother nature never night Oliver once party passed person pleasant prayer present president Professor question remember rest seemed seen side sister society soon soul speak spirit stand sweet talk teach teacher tell temperance things thought thousand told took true Union University voice walk Willard wish woman women wonder write young
Page 398 - ... fate and checks her tears. And she, the mother of thy boys. Though in her eye and faded cheek Is read the grief she will not speak, The memory of her buried Joys, And even she who gave thee birth, Will by their pilgrim-circled hearth Talk of thy doom without a sigh: For thou art freedom's now and fame's, One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die.
Page 633 - For he who fights and runs away May live to fight another day ; But he who is in battle slain Can never rise and fight again.
Page 398 - The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they, while their companions slept. Were toiling upward in the night.
Page 405 - He must remember that while he is a descendant of the past, he is a parent of the future ; and that his thoughts are as children born to him, which he may not carelessly let die.
Page 687 - And an immortal crown. 2 A cloud of witnesses around Hold thee in full survey : Forget the steps already trod, And onward urge thy way. 3...
Page 449 - tis weary; Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary; Furl it, fold it, it is best; For there's not a man to wave it, And there's not a sword to save it, And there's not one left to lave it In the blood which heroes gave it; And its foes now scorn and brave it; Furl it, hide it— let it rest!
Page 394 - New occasions teach new duties ; Time makes ancient good uncouth ; They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth ; Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires ! we ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key.
Page 32 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
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