Word: thoughts
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...chapter called "Tools and the Man," Dr. Lowell shows himself a member of the old school of thought, which believes strongly in mental discipline for its own sake. He favors the study of classics in secondary school as excellent mind training and self-education, and rather approves of the idea that the subject should contain more drudgery than interest. At a later time in discussing the minds of students, Dr. Lowell says they do not object to strict discipline in itself, particularly if they are responsible for the result. But he does not take into consideration the fact that...
...growing Downer who is self-admittedly a lazy sort of blighter. Why no Botsford scholarships? I bet erg for erg I can out-lethargy Downer every time out. And if Downer can be a blighter, so can I. I'd challenge him to a blighting contest tomorrow if I thought it would do any good. But I guess If Harvard's going to act like that there's very little I can do about it. I hereby lay even money, though, that Downer turns out to be a very dynamo of energy, and as for his being a blighter...
...Curley thought quite highly of the group's proposal for a municipal or state university in or near Boston and was enthusiastic about the Massachusetts extension courses. He disclosed that a program for a municipal or state university was already in the Democratic platform and would form part of his campaign platform...
Last night the Vagabond sat in his New room and reminisced. As idle driblets of thought and kaleidoscopic memories wafted their feather-like way through his brain, his gaze drifted around the many walls which encircle his new penthouse cubicle. Before him the desk, the calendar, the typewriter. Well enough; they had been so in the past. And there was the Falstaffian old leather Morris chair with its spinster companion, the ever slightly drunken bridge lamp, leaning confidentially over its shoulder--looking the same as ever. But will the old combination still breed the same pleasant spawn of thoughts...
Pensively the Vagabond flicked a key of his Old Underwood. Would it still be able to unravel those neat, printed letters which somehow lessen the chaos of thought? Could it still supply the right word, the proper touch to sentences in this foreign atmosphere? Then suddenly, in the vast loneliness of unfamiliar surroundings, he remembered again how Freshmen feel. How awful and unhuman and unknowable college seems. How important and lightning and complicated a History 1 lecture can sound. How vast and impersonal and uninterested the Union can feel. How suave and learned and acquainted everyone else can seem when...