The Ragged Edge
The Master is inordinately fond of young fools. That is why they are permitted to rush in where angels fear to tread-and survive their daring! This supreme protection, this unwritten warranty to disregard all laws, occult or apparent, divine or earthly, may be attributed to the fact that none but young fools dream gloriously. For such of us as pretend to be wise-and we are but fools in a lesser degree-we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream.
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The Ragged Edge
The Master is inordinately fond of young fools. That is why they are permitted to rush in where angels fear to tread-and survive their daring! This supreme protection, this unwritten warranty to disregard all laws, occult or apparent, divine or earthly, may be attributed to the fact that none but young fools dream gloriously. For such of us as pretend to be wise-and we are but fools in a lesser degree-we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream.
12.89 In Stock
The Ragged Edge

The Ragged Edge

by Harold Macgrath
The Ragged Edge

The Ragged Edge

by Harold Macgrath

Paperback

$12.89 
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Overview

The Master is inordinately fond of young fools. That is why they are permitted to rush in where angels fear to tread-and survive their daring! This supreme protection, this unwritten warranty to disregard all laws, occult or apparent, divine or earthly, may be attributed to the fact that none but young fools dream gloriously. For such of us as pretend to be wise-and we are but fools in a lesser degree-we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781985381759
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date: 03/08/2018
Pages: 232
Product dimensions: 5.98(w) x 9.02(h) x 0.49(d)

About the Author


Harold MacGrath (1871 - 1932) was a bestselling American novelist, short story writer and screenwriter. Also known occasionally as Harold McGrath, he was born in Syracuse, New York. As a young man, he worked as a reporter and columnist for the Syracuse Herald newspaper until the late 1890s when he published his first novel, a romance titled Arms and the Woman. According to the New York Times, his next book, The Puppet Crown, was the No.7 bestselling book in the United States for all of 1901. MacGrath subsequently wrote novels for the mass market about love, adventure, mystery, spies and the like at an average rate of more than one a year. He would have three more of his books that were among the top ten bestselling books of the year. At the same time, he published a number of short stories for major American magazines such as The Saturday Evening Post, Ladies Home Journal and Red Book magazine. Several of MacGrath's novels were serialized in these magazines and contributing to them was something he would continue to do until his death in 1932.
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