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This page provides a simple browsing interface for finding entities described by a property and a named value. Other available search interfaces include the page property search, and the ask query builder.

List of results

Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>To all motorists who become "boaged," I beg to recommend the mud-hole of my friends, Mr. Poole and Mr. Sinclair, of Lissie, Texas. </p> </div>)
Soldiers' Pay + (<div class="poem"> <p>To be hi … <div class="poem"></br><p>To be him, to have gotten wings, but to have got his scar too! Cadet Lowe turned to the wall with passionate disappointment like a gnawing fox at his vitals. Slobbering and moaning Cadet Lowe, too, dreamed again, sleeping.</br></p></br></div> Cadet Lowe, too, dreamed again, sleeping. </p> </div>)
Soldiers' Pay + (<div class="poem"> <p>To hell with kee-wees, anyway. I wouldn’t be a goddam kee-wee. Rather be a sergeant. Rather be a mechanic. Crack up, Cadet. Hell, yes, Why not? War’s over. Glad. Glad. Oh, God. His scar: his wings. Last time. </p> </div>)
Where Happiness Lies + (<div class="poem"> <p>To man his married life’s a boon,<br /> If it is sweet and right in tune.<br /> But fights and scraps and family jars,<br /> Are worse than some old motor cars. </p> </div>)
Days of Opportunity + (<div class="poem"> <p>To the White House and the President's chair,<br /> No American boy need have despair,<br /> There is nothing a boy can't overcome,<br /> With talent and energy making the run. </p> </div>)
Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>Toby, chatting about aviation with the man on her running-board, was completely taken by surprise to hear "Ah'm sahry, lady, but we'll jest have to ask you-all to come along with us." </p> </div>)
Days of Opportunity + (<div class="poem"> <p>Today is the golden day of days,<br /> Opportunity all around you plays,<br /> Much depends that you keep on a-trying,<br /> If you climb like Studebakers people are buying. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Two men waved at him, and one demanded, "Say, Milt, is whisky good for the toothache? What d' you think! The doc said it didn't do any good. But then, gosh, he's only just out of college." </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Two stores farther on, a bulky farmer hailed, "Say, Milt, should I get an ensilage cutter yet?" </p> </div>)

On The Road to Nowhere + (<div class="poem"> <p>Upon Returning to the Country Road </p> </div>)

The Motor Boys Across the Plains; Or, the Hermit of Lost Lake (Book 4) + (<div class="poem"> <p>[Illustration: THE INDIAN SEEMED TO KNOW HOW TO OPERATE IT.] </p> </div>)
The Motor Boys Across the Plains; Or, the Hermit of Lost Lake (Book 4) + (<div class="poem"> <p>[Illustration: THE NEXT INSTANT THE BOY HAD MADE A FLYING LEAP INTO THE CAR.] </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>Usually, too, her passengers waited for her to start the conversation, and talked at Mr. Boltwood rather than directly to her. But the bristly man spat at her as the car started, "Going far?" </p> </div>)
R.V. and Another + (<div class="poem"> <p>Vagabonds of beauty,<br /> Wistful, exquisite waifs<br /> From a lost, and a forgotten, and a lovely land,<br /> We cannot comfort you<br /> Though our souls yearn for you. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>WESTWARD PIONEERS-A BRUSH AND THE TRINKLES </p> </div>)
Brown’s Descent or, the Willy-Nilly Slide + (<div class="poem"> <p>Walls were all buried, trees were few:<br /> He saw no stay unless he stove<br /> A hole in somewhere with his heel.<br /> But though repeatedly he strove </p> </div>)
Rabbit Elusiveness + (<div class="poem"> <p>We bough … <div class="poem"></br><p>We bought up all the lumber in Curran’s lumber yard,<br /></br>Built a thousand hutches, for cost had no regard.<br /></br>Faithfully with many tools we labored every day,<br /></br>Fully settled in our mind we’d make the rabbits pay.</br></p></br></div>r /> Fully settled in our mind we’d make the rabbits pay. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>We decided they thought our car would get stuck in the deep sand on the steep grade and they would have some fun pulling us out, but the car had crawled along slowly and steadily, spoiling their fun. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>We did not try to make fast time, because safety was our first thought. Fred went over the car carefully each morning before starting. </p> </div>)
The Motor Road + (<div class="poem"> <p>We drive until the evening wind blows drear;<br /> I long for such a day to come once more.<br /> The roar of traffic beats upon the ear,<br /> I part with romance at the city’s door. </p> </div>)
Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>We followed his gesture wonderingly toward the lonely cluster of houses, a warehouse, a store, an ex-saloon with the sign badly painted out, and "refreshments" painted in, and the usual group of busy loafers at the store. </p> </div>)
Coast to Coast in a Brush Runabout + (<div class="poem"> <p>We heard there were three feet of snow in Weber Canyon, which we had just come through, and were most thankful we had wasted no time on the way. </p> </div>)
The Road to Glory + (<div class="poem"> <p>We know a good old Missouri town,<br /> Where "niggers" a-plenty live all around.<br /> On a little hill down near the mill,<br /> The "nigger" church is standing still. </p> </div>)
Chaplinesque + (<div class="poem"> <p>We make our meek adjustments,<br /> Contented with such random consolations<br /> As the wind deposits<br /> In slithered and too ample pockets. </p> </div>)
Man's Idiosyncrasy + (<div class="poem"> <p>We now relate this sorry fact,<br /> He’s been a month upon his back,<br /> On both his cheeks he’ll have a scar,<br /> He stepped in front of a motor car. </p> </div>)
Kisses by the Roadside + (<div class="poem"> <p>We saw them by our headlight's glare,<br /> Through their windshield sitting there,<br /> Oblivious to the world around,<br /> They kissed and made but little sound. </p> </div>)
Washington Square + (<div class="poem"> <p>We sleep in the eternal arms of night:<br /> We give ourselves, in the heart of peril,<br /> To sheer unconsciousness:<br /> Silently sliding through space, the huge globe turns. </p> </div>)
Dawn + (<div class="poem"> <p>We trudge along wearily,<br /> Heavy with lack of sleep,<br /> Spiritless, yet with pretence of gaiety. </p> </div>)
Westward Hoboes + (<div class="poem"> <p>We waited hopefully. But again he bit it off. </p> </div>)
Automobiling in the West + (<div class="poem"> <p>We walked back to Summit Station and stayed at the hotel that night. Next morning, aided by some kindly disposed railroad men who could handle shovels most effectively, the machine was dislodged. </p> </div>)
Chaplinesque + (<div class="poem"> <p>We will sidestep, and to the final smirk<br /> Dally the doom of that inevitable thumb<br /> That slowly chafes its puckered index toward us,<br /> Facing the dull squint with what innocence<br /> And what surprise! </p> </div>)
Our California + (<div class="poem"> <p>We wrote him, "We can tell no more,<br /> But when you reach this western shore,<br /> Studebakers you'll see them everywhere."<br /> Then, he said, "Heaven is there." </p> </div>)
Our California + (<div class="poem"> <p>We wrote to a friend back east one day,<br /> And told him all we thought to say.<br /> We filled a dozen pages or more,<br /> Of the glories of this far western shore. </p> </div>)
The Steering Wheel + (<div class="poem"> <p>We'll warrant your mind will quickly fill<br /> With thoughts for a Six so full of thrill.<br /> To drive the ideal Six Automobile,<br /> Get back of a Six Studebaker wheel. </p> </div>)
Free Air + (<div class="poem"> <p>When he was caught, when Claire informed him that he "mustn't worry about her"; when, slowly, he understood that she wasn't being neighborly and interested in his making time, he wanted to escape, never to see her again. </p> </div>)