In the tale proper--where there is no space for development of character or for great profusion and variety of incident--mere construction is, of course, far more imperatively demanded than in the novel.

Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore! Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.

Children are never too tender to be whipped. Like tough beefsteaks, the more you beat them, the more tender they become.

A million candles have burned themselves out. Still I read on. (Montresor)

A fool, for example, thinks Shakespeare a great poet . . . yet the fool has never read Shakespeare.

No pictorial or sculptural combinations of points of human loveliness, do more than approach the living and breathing human beauty as it gladdens our daily path.

Boston: Their hotels are bad. Their pumpkin pies are delicious. Their poetry is not so good.