The Flying InnSatire ' ... in which Chesterton inveighs against prohibition, vegetarianism, theosophy, and other oppressive forms of modernity.' [From Website of alibris, 11th November, 2004]. |
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answered asked began Berkeley Bullrose CALIFORN CALIFORNIA LIBRARY called Captain Dalroy cask cheese Claridge's course Crescent cried Crooke crowd Dalroy's dark donkey Dorian Wimpole drink emerald twilight England English Enid Wimpole eyes face fancy feel FLYING INN gentleman glass Gluck green hair hand heard Hibbs Hump Humphrey Pump inn-sign Islam knew Lady Enid Lady Joan Brett Leveson looked Lord Ivywood Meadows milk Miss Browning Misysra Ammon moon never Old Ship Oman Patrick Dalroy Peaceways Pebblewick Phillip Ivywood poet police Polygamy Post-Futurist Prophet Quoodle remember riding song road round Saracen's Head seemed seen sign-board silence sing smile song sort soul stared stood suddenly suppose sure sword talk tell thing thought tion town tree tunnel turned turret UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Vegetarian voice walked wine wood words
Popular passages
Page 57 - For the Curse of Water has come again because of the wrath of God, And water is on the Bishop's board and the Higher Thinker's shrine, But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.
Page 270 - BEFORE the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode, The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road. A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire, And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire; A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.
Page 29 - Far called our navies melt away, On dune and headland sinks the fire ; Lo ! all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre ; Judge of the nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget.
Page 184 - When door and darkness closes The park a Jew encloses, Where even the law of Moses Will let you steal a smell. The brilliant smell of water, The brave smell of a stone, The smell of dew and thunder, The old bones buried under, Are things in which they blunder And err, if left alone. The wind from winter forests, The scent of scentless flowers, The breath of brides' adorning, The smell of snare and warning, The smell of Sunday morning, God gave to us for ours.
Page 56 - But Noah he sinned, and we have sinned; on tipsy feet we trod, Till a great big black teetotaller was sent to us for a. rod, And you can't get wine at a PSA, or chapel, or Eisteddfod...
Page 224 - Tea, although an Oriental, Is a gentleman at least ; Cocoa is a cad and coward, Cocoa is a vulgar beast, Cocoa is a dull, disloyal, Lying, crawling cad and clown, And may very well be grateful To the fool that takes him down.
Page 140 - I am silent in the club, I am silent in the pub, I am silent on a bally peak in Darien; For I stuff away for life Shoving peas in with a knife, Because I am at heart a Vegetarian. No more the milk of cows Shall pollute my private house Than the milk of the wild mares of the Barbarian; I will stick to port and sherry, For they are so very, very, So very, very, very Vegetarian.
Page 140 - . But he said I couldn't speak, And he bowled me to the Beak, Because I was a Happy Vegetarian. Oh, I knew a Doctor Gluck, And his nose it had a hook, And his attitudes were anything but Aryan ; So I gave him all the pork That I had, upon a fork, Because I am myself a Vegetarian.
Page 270 - John) In Roundabout can kiss, And since that's all that's found about The pleasant town of Roundabout, The roads they simply bound about To find out where it is. Some say that when Sir Lancelot Went forth to find the Grail, Grey Merlin wrinkled up the roads For hope that he should fail; All roads led back to Lyonesse And Camelot in the Vale, I cannot yield assent to this Extravagant hypothesis, The plain, shrewd Briton will dismiss Such rumours (Daily Mail). But in the streets of Roundabout Are no...
Page 84 - Eve. The folk that live in Liverpool, their heart is in their boots; They go to hell like lambs, they do, because the hooter hoots. Where men may not be dancin', though the wheels may dance all day; And men may not be smokin'; but only chimneys may. But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, But a lady stole it from me on St. Poleander's Eve. The folk that live in black Belfast, their heart is in their mouth, They see us making murders in the meadows of the South; They think a plough's...