Hudson Williams Quotes

There are many Green Dragons in this world of wayside inns, even as there are many White Harts, Red Lions, Silent Women and other incredible things...

Of all the people I have ever known you are the only one I don't know.

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,

For I can raise no money by vile means: By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash 75By any indirection.

Hudson blinked, but then he leaned down tentatively and gave the doorknob an obliging sniff. "It smells like...metal?" he said. "Not-I don't know-a bit saturnine?" asked Jackaby, "with a hint of stygian exigency?" "You know what any of those words mean?" Hudson asked, looking to me for help. "I think one of them might be a sort of cheese.

A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,

Boys are always inarticulate where their deepest feelings are concerned; however much they may desire it they cannot express kind and sympathetic feelings.

Wood nymphs,” said Jackaby. “Not a real cheery lot, them,” observed Hudson. “In retrospect, a library is a rather somber locale for their kind. A bit like housing a man in a graveyard. Well, a bit like housing a man in a graveyard in which his people’s bones have been mashed to a pulp and reconstituted into slim sheets, onto which one has scribbled a lot of silly words with pictures of monks and satyrs in the margins.

In going back we must take our present selves with us: the mind has taken a different colour, and this is thrown back upon our past.

Our beginnings do not foreshadow our ends if one judges by the Hudson River.

The blue sky, the brown soil beneath, the grass, the trees, the animals, the wind, and rain, and stars are never strange to me; for I am in and of and am one with them; and my flesh and the soil are one, and the heat in my blood and in the sunshine are one, and the winds and the tempests and my passions are one. I feel the 'strangeness' only with regard to my fellow men, especially in towns, where they exist in conditions unnatural to me, but congenial to them.... In such moments we sometimes feel a kinship with, and are strangely drawn to, the dead, who were not as these; the long, long dead, the men who knew not life in towns, and felt no strangeness in sun and wind and rain.

In the evening of that day, after completing my preparations, I supped on the remaining portions of the sloth, not suitable for preservation, roasting bits of fat on the coals and boiling the head and bones into a broth; and after swallowing the liquid I crunched the bones and sucked the marrow...

It was only one of a dozen or twenty vocations which he had taken up at various times, only to drop them again as soon as he made the discovery that they one and all entailed months and even years of hard work if he was ever to fulfil his ambitious desire of doing and being something great in the world.

I could yet always feel that it was infinitely better to be than not to be. THE

My feathered friends were so much to me that I am constantly tempted to make this sketch of my first years a book about birds and little else.

13 words: "Where the Hudson takes a hard right, West Point teaches the Harder Right." W. Bahr, USMA '69 © 2014 After the Hudson’s hard left, what happens next, "right" at Trophy Point?

Death dressed as an admiral hang Billy Budd with his own hands and Judge Lynch sneer, "Dead suns can't witness." But the witness will rise from the concrete of Hudson with a fossil prick to point out the innocent wise guy.

The most dreadful scenes, the worst in Dante's Inferno, for example, can be visualized by the inner eye; and sounds, too, are conveyed to us in a description so that they can be heard mentally; but it is not so with smells.

When the religious Cowper confesses in the opening lines of his address to the famous Yardley oak, that the sense of awe and reverence it inspired in him would have made him bow himself down and worship it but for the happy fact that his mind was illumined with the knowledge of the truth, he is but saying what many feel without in most cases recognizing the emotion for what it is—the sense of the supernatural in nature.

Neofeudalism: Much as warlords seized land in the Norman Conquest and levied rent on subject populations (starting with the Domesday Book, the great land census of England and Wales ordered by William the Conqueror), so today’s financialized mode of warfare uses debt leverage and foreclosure to pry away land, natural resources and economic infrastructure. The commons are privatized by bondholders and bankers, gaining control of government and shifting taxes onto labor and small-scale industry. Household accounts, corporate balance sheets and public budgets are earmarked increasingly to pay real estate rent, monopoly rent, interest and financial fees, and to bear the taxes shifted off rentier wealth. The rentier oligarchy makes itself into a hereditary aristocracy lording it over the population at large from gated communities that are the modern counterpart to medieval castles with their moats and parapets.

This quickly led to a fatalistic attitude. Company trader William Walker wrote in 1781 that “they are frightened of going nigh one to another as soon as they take bad, so the one half for want of indulgencies is starved before they can gather Strength to help themselves. They think when they are once taken bad they need not look for any recovery. So the person that’s bad turns feeble that he cannot walk, they leave them behind when they’re pitching away, and so the poor Soul perishes.” Many travellers, including such astute observers as David Thompson, wrote of how the men in particular, when under the influence of a raging fever, would throw themselves into the freezing water, and thereby perish from exposure.

Elsewhere as Baker muses on the fluidity and apparent joyfulness of a seal’s motion at sea he speculates: It is a good life, a seal’s, here in these shallow waters. Like the lives of so many air and water creatures, it seems a better one than ours. We have no element. Nothing sustains us when we fall. Here Baker edges towards a remarkable revelation about the whole nature-writing genre. On reading the passage, one thinks of the specific creatures (as well as their most devoted author/admirers) that have made the deepest appeal to the modern British imagination: the otter (Henry Williamson, Gavin Maxwell), whales and dolphins (Heathcote Williams and the whole New-Age fixation with cetaceans) and birds, particularly birds of prey (W.H. Hudson, T.H. White and J.A. Baker himself). If we cannot move between the elements like these wonderful animals, then humans can at least imagine what it is like to be an otter or a peregrine. But no writer I know has taken us deeper into the life of another creature and allowed us to experience how that elemental mastery might possibly feel than John Alec Baker. Mark Cocker, March 2010

This report inflamed my mind to such a degree that I could not rest by night or day for dreaming golden dreams, and considering how to get to that rich district, unknown to civilized men.

One extraordinary feature of the private quintas or orchards and plantations in the vicinity of the Saladeros was the walls or hedges. These were built entirely of cows' skulls, seven, eight, or nine deep, placed evenly like stones, the horns projecting. Hundreds of thousands of skulls had been thus used, and some of the old, very long walls, crowned with green grass and with creepers and wild flowers growing from the cavities in the bones, had a strangely picturesque but somewhat uncanny appearance.

The British boy suffers the greatest restraint during the period when the call of nature, the instincts of play and adventure, are most urgent. Naturally, he looks eagerly forward to the time of escape, which he fondly imagines will be when his boyhood is over and he is free of masters.

The beautiful is good; and if a thing's not beautiful it isn't good.

the mystical faculty in me which produced those strange rushes or bursts of feeling

Intelligence is not a prerequisite for safe flying, but an acceptance of human fallibility is, and the two are generally linked.

I miss you. I'd like to sit and stare at the moon with you again, I'd settle for that" William J Hudson.

At the same time, a group of Pilgrims, led by William Bradford, agreed to personally assume the full responsibility for the community’s debt, with the £1,800 due in nine annual installments of £200 starting in 1628. For relieving the citizens of Plymouth of this debt, Bradford and his group received the exclusive fur-trading rights of the colony. Indeed, the rights would have been immensely valuable, but for one thing: competition. By 1628 New England had received shiploads of settlers. Some, such as the Puritans, had religious inclinations. Others were itinerant traders making landfall. The Dutch, with their own settlement on the Hudson River, were building trading posts as far north as the Connecticut River. The French too made incursions. For all, fur was vital. Native Americans, continuing their role as hunters and preparers, were a key part of this transatlantic trade. None of this was good news for the local beaver.

We have much to learn from women like Ruby McKnight Williams, who studied the California color line and devised ways to resist it, only to see it materialize somewhere else in another form.

every board: New York Central President Chauncey Depew was an officer or director of fifty-six transportation companies; William K. Vanderbilt, fifty-one; Missouri Pacific President George Gould, thirty-five; E. V. Rossiter, treasurer of the New York Central & Hudson River Railroad, thirty-one; Harriman, twenty-eight; Michigan Southern President

may it please our Lord to kindle a new light of the world which may guide unbelievers to conversion, that with us they may meet Christ, to whom be honor and praise world without end.

Three stages of that work are strikingly set forth by Hudson Taylor when he says: “Commonly there are three stages in work for God: Impossible, Difficult, Done!” Said General William Booth, “God loves with a special love the man who has a passion for the impossible.” Are you confronting today the impossible in work for God? Praise Him for that, because you are in a way to discover the blessing of finding that work difficult, and then to experience the deep joy of finding it done, by the same Lord who started you on the furrow.

The Napoleon of Temperance” or “Father of Prohibition,” activist Neal S. Dow helped to construct the “Maine Law” of 1851, outlawing the use of alcohol for reasons other than mechanical or medicinal purposes. He was the mayor of the city when “The Portland Rum Riot” broke out, leading to the militia shooting into the crowds. One person was killed and seven wounded when the people demanded to know why there was rum stored in the City Hall. Early in the American Civil War, on November 23, 1861, former mayor Dow was commissioned as a Colonel in the 13th Maine Infantry. On April 28th of the following year, he received a commission as Brigadier General in the Union Army. His service included commanding two captured Confederate forts near New Orleans and fighting in the siege of Port Hudson, Louisiana. During this skirmish he was wounded and later captured. General Dow was traded and gained his freedom 8 months later from General William H. F. Lee, the son of Robert E. Lee. Neal S. Dow died on October 2, 1897, and was buried in the Evergreen Cemetery in Portland. His home, the Neal S. Dow house built in 1829, was used as a stop for slaves on the “Maine Underground Railway” and is located at 714 Congress Street in Portland. The historic building is now the home of the Maine Women's Christian Temperance Union.

three years longer at home or till the age of sixteen, when I struck out for myself, pretty much on my own hook, resolved to hunt for furs with some company, or hunt Indians, or do any thing else that would pay. While working on my father’s plantation I had become familiar with the rifle and shot gun, and indeed had to provide nearly all the meat for the family; but game was plenty and that was an easy task, much easier than pleasing the mistress who took no pains to give me any educational advantages. Though young, I was nearly full grown when I found an excellent chance to join a fur company that had just started out from St. Louis, under the lead of Charles Bent, and were going out to a fort and trading-post called Bent’s Fort, some three hundred miles south of Pike’s Peak on Big Arkansas river. The party consisted of about sixty men. The more prominent hunters were Charles Bent, Guesso Chauteau, William Savery, and two noted Indian trappers named Shawnee Spiebuck, and Shawnee Jake. Some of the party were agents of, and interested in, the Hudson’s Bay fur company, having their head-quarters at St. Louis. This was in 1835. As I shall have considerable to say of some of this party, a brief description of them may be of interest to the reader. Charles Bent, the leader of the party, and a manager of the fur business at Bent’s Fort, was a native of St. Louis, Mo., and a brother of the famous Captain Bent who originated the theory called the “Thermal Gateways to the Pole.” |At the time I joined his party, he was about thirty-five years of age, light complexioned, heavily built, tending to corpulency. In all my acquaintance with him I always found

Rock may have had this association in mind when Jimmy turned up on the set of Has Anybody Seen My Gal. Dean’s friend, William Bast, remembered, “It was after his first day of shooting on that picture that Jimmy confided in me his contempt for Mr. Hudson, based on nothing more than Hudson’s hypocritical pose as straight on the set while privately trying to hit on him.

As he approaches third, Art Devlin of the Giants—an honors graduate of the McGraw school of baseball—slows him down with an artful elbow. Tinker shrugs him off and keeps going. The next barrier is his own coach, infielder Heinie Zimmerman, who grabs him and tries to drag him back toward third. Tinker breaks the tackle and beats the peg to the plate86 as the crowd “wailed, roared, guffawed, and squalied.”87 In the excitement, fourteen-year-old William Hudson, leaning over to get a better view, falls fifty feet from the roof of a nearby apartment building. So engrossed are his fellow spectators in watching the race around the bases that no one even notices for several minutes. The boy dies of a fractured skull.88 The players are unaware of the first (but not last) death by baseball in 1908, and Brown gives up a single hit the rest of the way. The Cubs win 1–0.

The story of the Hudson Bay Company’s treatment of their employees is too well known to be commented on, although I will say that if I had my choice between being a slave with some masters in Missouri or being a Hudson Bay employee, I would prefer the former.