Works
After the war he devoted himself chiefly to literature, publishing two historical novels, "Romance of the Charter Oak" (1870) and "Pride of Lexington" (1871); "The Pioneer", a poem (1874); "Rachel's Fate" (1882); "The Shamrock Gone West", and "Moire" (1884). About 1886 he went to Europe for serious study in paleontology, psychology, etc., and thereafter usually spent the greater part of each year in France in such pursuits. His forte was presenting scientific matters in attractive English. He issued a brief work, "A Glimpse of Organic Life, Past and Present" (1897). He was a frequent contributor of scientific articles to the "Catholic World". "The Building of the Mountain", a novel, was in the press at the time of his death.
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Famous quotes containing the word works:
“Most young black females learn to be suspicious and critical of feminist thinking long before they have any clear understanding of its theory and politics.... Without rigorously engaging feminist thought, they insist that racial separatism works best. This attitude is dangerous. It not only erases the reality of common female experience as a basis for academic study; it also constructs a framework in which differences cannot be examined comparatively.”
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“There is a great deal of self-denial and manliness in poor and middle-class houses, in town and country, that has not got into literature, and never will, but that keeps the earth sweet; that saves on superfluities, and spends on essentials; that goes rusty, and educates the boy; that sells the horse, but builds the school; works early and late, takes two looms in the factory, three looms, six looms, but pays off the mortgage on the paternal farm, and then goes back cheerfully to work again.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
“They commonly celebrate those beaches only which have a hotel on them, not those which have a humane house alone. But I wished to see that seashore where man’s works are wrecks; to put up at the true Atlantic House, where the ocean is land-lord as well as sea-lord, and comes ashore without a wharf for the landing; where the crumbling land is the only invalid, or at best is but dry land, and that is all you can say of it.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)