Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and… — Mark Twain
Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden.
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Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it.
Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and...Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do.
p. 32
“What’s your name?”
“Becky Thatcher. What’s yours? Oh, I know. It’s Thomas Sawyer.”
“That’s the name they lick me by. I’m Tom when I’m good.”
