It would seem evident, therefore, that the secret of the American short story was the treatment of characteristic American life, with absolute… — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
For the glory born of Goodness Never dies, And its flag is not half-masted In the skies. — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
“Nellie was a good girl, and I think had a sort of quiet respect for old Fagg's unobtrusiveness. But her fancy was already taken… — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
Perhaps there is no gift of nature that requires as little exertion on the part of the owner as personal beauty. I am not… — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
Howbeit, though no scholar, I am not one of those who misuse the English speech, and, being foolishly led by the hasty custom of… — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
“Tommy, you're a good little man, but you can't gamble worth a cent. Don't try it over again.' He then handed him his money… — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
“I've had some mighty mean moments afore I kem to this spot,-- Lost on the plains in '50, drowned almost, and shot; But out… — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
The delicate thought, that cannot find expression, For ruder speech too fair, That, like thy petals, trembles in possession, And scatters on the air. — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
“There was, I think, a prevailing impression common to the provincial mind, that his misfortune was the result of the defective moral quality of… — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
Your voices break and falter in the darkness, Break, falter, and are still. — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
We begin to die as soon as we are born, and the end is linked to the beginning. — Bret Harte Copy Share Image
