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Rough-hew them how we will ... report me and my cause aright ... To tell my story. (Hamlet's dying request to Horatio)... The rest is silence. (Hamlet's last words) Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest....so shall you hear Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,
In Cosmopolitan, "The Man Upstairs" was illustrated by James Montgomery Flagg, [25] "Rough-Hew Them How We Will" was illustrated by Dan Sayre Groesbeck, [26] and "The Man, the Maid and the Miasma" was illustrated by G. F. Kerr. [27] In Pictorial Review, "By Advice of Counsel" was illustrated by Phillips Ward, [28] and "Three From Dunsterville ...
Edmond utters a line that is nearly an exact quote of one from Hamlet: "There is a destiny that shapes our ends...rough-hew them how we may." The play ends as the two say "good night" and Edmond kisses his cellmate on the mouth good night, lying beside him in bed.
With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of ...
"Rough-Hew Them How We Will" The Man Upstairs (1914) April 1910 The Strand Magazine: August 1910 Cosmopolitan – 6 19 "The Man Who Disliked Cats" ("The Fatal Kink in Algernon") The Man Upstairs (1914) May 1912 The Strand Magazine: January 1916 Ladies' Home Journal – 7 33 "Ruth in Exile" The Man Upstairs (1914) July 1912 The Strand Magazine ...
"For anybody out there still on their journey, still struggling to find their way, whatever it is that you do: Just because it hasn't happened doesn't mean it isn't happening," Moore said.
Here we go! ‘Bass-O-Matic’ — Season 2 (1976) Gross-out humor is on full display in this sketch where Dan Akroyd’s salesman character advertises a blender that “lets you use the whole ...
Now let us sport us while we may; And now, like am'rous birds of prey, Rather at once our Time devour, Than languish in his slow-chapt pow'r. Let us roll all our Strength, and all Our sweetness, up into one Ball: And tear our Pleasures with rough strife, Thorough the Iron gates of Life. Thus, though we cannot make our Sun