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Filter: Categories of Wisconsin Historical Images
Filter: Creator Name of Vanderbilt, Paul
Filter: Type of Historical Object
Filter: Subject of botany
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| Description: | "I am the man with measuring pole on my shoulder. At the age of 21 years I was sawing log in the woods. Since then I have seen the old time way go and the ... |
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| Description: | A child could count in rounded numbers the Christmas chance of pudding from the sky |
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| Description: | No one will tell No one would dare to put in print the Secret Knowledge. That word of mouth is frozen deep and all Report is still |
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| Description: | The disconnection sways, rings out the moving targets racing with the mind in mathematic sound that vanish in the distance and then appear again a... |
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| Description: | Some towering hand-made genius had fighting words to sell |
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| Description: | Lightning cleared the air, that we could see just how deep the rootland lay Far below the wished for, but not beyond the Will |
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| Description: | That instinct path to the waiting door is a mile of running beyond the last ounce of bursting heart |
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| Description: | Although they remembered everything that could not be tolerated, their better natures, surfacing through waves of church-worn care, prevailed over... |
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| Description: | Either way, the sides are bridged, from wine to water, cutting back to wine Paradoxical appointments, anticipated hour — No one event can ... |
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| Description: | That morning is adrift in passing; it cannot last the day. Those years are anchored to each other; there is no other way. |
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| Description: | A house laced straight into the wiry sore of righteousness, squared off and lonely, tingling at the sound of ice, the libertine who drowned. |
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| Description: | The house was smaller than its legendary fill of righteousness The author knelt before the scratched and wintered argument to learn that Grace, in an... |
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| Description: | You came to know that book by its covered distance, well remembered by the measure of the trudging barefoot mile |
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| Description: | On the map it shows the turkey buzzards circling overhead to tell us who we are and what the odds. Don't count; a promise is no more than just a s... |
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| Description: | Old skin is yet alive to whispered lashings, the quick-step dried and gone to the bone. Embrace the wall and face away from trouble in the winter ... |
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| Description: | The parson came. He said it well: Enough is all we want, to hold and sleep on, not the sky. A little harvest of the sorrows between the sentenc... |
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| Description: | We always know what day it is Because it never fails. Sometime between the awful and the coffee that stepson drives along the road and all the dog... |
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