Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

Summary

Portrait of Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table…

Tell me, man or woman with whom I am whispering, have you not a small store of recollections, such as these I am uncovering, buried beneath the dead leaves of many summers, perhaps under the unmelting snows of fast-returning winters, - a few such recollections, which, if you should write them all out, would be swept into some careless editor’s drawer, and might cost a scanty half-hour’s lazy reading to his subscribers, - and yet, if Death should cheat you of them, you would not know yourself in eternity?
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table…

One could never remember himself in eternity by the mere fact of having loved or hated any more than by that of having thirsted; love and hate have no more individuality in them than single waves in the ocean; - but the accidents or trivial marks which distinguished those whom we loved or hated make their memory our own forever, and with it that of our own personality also.
Therefore, my aged friend of five-and-twenty, or thereabouts, pause at the threshold of this particular record, and ask yourself seriously whether you are fit to read such revelations as are to follow.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table…

They made me feel as if there might be constituted a creature with such a chord in her voice to some string in another’s soul, that, if she but spoke, he would leave all and follow her, though it were into the jaws of Erebus. Our only chance to keep our wits is, that there are so few natural chords between others’ voices and this string in our souls, and that those which at first may have jarred a little by and by come into harmony with it.
Source: Wikisource

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