OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Palmetto Fire Insurance Company v. Conn Chrysler Sales Corporation

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
272 U.S. 295
Palmetto Fire Insurance Company v. Conn Chrysler Sales Corporation
Argued: Oct. 11, 1926. --- Decided: Oct 25, 1926
Messrs. Hartwell Cabell, of New York City, and Wm. O. Henderson, of Columbus, Ohio, for appellant Palmetto Fire Ins. Co.
[Argument of Counsel from pages 296-298 intentionally omitted]
Messrs. Duane R. Dills and Nicholas Kelley, both of New York City, for appellants Chrysler Sales Corporation and Utterback-Gleason Co.
Messrs. Ralph W. Jackman, of Madison, Wis., and Duane R. Dills, of New York City, for appellants Clark Motor Co. and Chrysler Sales Corporation.
[Argument of Counsel from pages 299-301 intentionally omitted]
Mr. C. S. Younger, of Celina, Ohio, for appellee Conn.
[Argument of Counsel from pages 301-303 intentionally omitted]
Messrs. Raymond Fellows and Joseph F. Gould, both of Bangor, Me., for appellee Spencer.
Mr. T. L. McIntosh, of Madison, Wis., for appellee Johnson.
Mr. Justice HOLMES delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Palmieri v. Florida/Opinion of the Court

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Per Curiam Opinion of the Court
United States Supreme Court
393 U.S. 218
Palmieri v. Florida
The petitioner was convicted of robbery in the Criminal Court of Dade County, Florida, and the judgment of conviction was affirmed by the District Court of Appeal, 189 So.2d 512, and the Supreme Court of Florida, 198 So.2d 633. We granted certiorari because the case appeared to present a substantial constitutional question concerning the admissibility at trial of 'lineup' identifications made after the petitioner was arrested without probable cause for the sole purpose of gathering evidence against him. 391 U.S. 934, 88 S.Ct. 1850, 20 L.Ed.2d 853. However, upon the complete review of the record that has now become possible, and in the light of oral argument by able and conscientious counsel, it has become evident that the legality of the petitioner's arrest was not at issue in the Florida appellate courts, and is not challenged here. Accordingly, the writ is dismissed as improvidently granted. It is so ordered.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Palmer v. Webster & Atlas National Bank of Boston

United States Supreme Court
312 U.S. 156
Palmer v. Webster & Atlas National Bank of Boston
Argued: Jan. 8, 1941. --- Decided: Feb 3, 1941
See 312 U.S. 714, 61 S.Ct. 728, 85 L.Ed. --.
Mr. Herman J. Wells, of New Haven, Conn., for petitioners.
Mr. Robert H. Davison, of Boston, Mass., for respondent.
Mr. Robert H. Hopkins, of Boston, Mass., for City of Boston, amicus curiae.
Mr. Justice ROBERTS delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Palmore v. Sidoti

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
Supreme Court of the United States
466 U.S. 429
Palmore v. Sidoti
Certiorari to the District Court of Appeal of Florida, Second District
No. 82-1734 Argued: February 22, 1984 --- Decided: April 25, 1984
When petitioner and respondent, both Caucasians, were divorced in Florida, petitioner, the mother, was awarded custody of their 3-year-old daughter. The following year respondent sought custody of the child by filing a petition to modify the prior judgment because of changed conditions, namely, that petitioner was then cohabiting with a Negro, whom she later married. The Florida trial court awarded custody to respondent, concluding that the child's best interests would be served thereby. Without focusing directly on the parental qualifications of petitioner, her present husband, or respondent, the court reasoned that although respondent's resentment at petitioner's choice of a black partner was insufficient to deprive petitioner of custody, there would be a damaging impact on the child if she remained in a racially mixed household. The Florida District Court of Appeal affirmed.
Held: The effects of racial prejudice, however real, cannot justify a racial classification removing an infant child from the custody of its natural mother. The Constitution cannot control such prejudice, but neither can it tolerate it. Private biases may be outside the reach of the law, but the law cannot, directly or indirectly, give them effect. Pp. 431-434.
426 So.2d 34, reversed.
Burger, C. J., delivered the opinion for a unanimous Court.
Robert J. Shapiro argued the cause and filed a brief for petitioners.
John E. Hawtrey argued the cause and filed a brief for respondent.

#### Notes

* ↑ . Briefs of amici curiae urging reversal were filed for the United States by Solicitor General Lee, Assistant Attorney General Reynolds, Deputy Solicitor General Wallace, Deputy Assistant Attorney General Cooper, Kathryn A. Oberly, and Brian K. Landsberg; for the American Civil Liberties Union Foundation et al. by Burt Neuborne, William D. Zabel, Marcia Robinson Lowry, Thomas I. Atkins, Ira G. Greenberg, and Samuel Rabinove; for Leigh Earls et al. by Jay L. Carlson, James P. Tuite, Roderic V. O. Boggs, James D. Weill, Justin J. Finger, Jeffrey P. Sinensky, Leslie K. Shedlin, and Marc D. Stern; and for the Women's Legal Defense Fund et al. by Sally Katzen, Lynn Bregman, and Nancy Polikoff.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Trumpet Call

THE TRUMPET CALL
Permission of the author
I dreamed last night of the trumpet-call: "Come over and help us across the sea, Come over and help us, brothers all, We fight for justice and liberty!" But my couch was soft and my comforts dear, And the ones I loved had naught to fear, So I sent this answer across the sea: "The sons of France shall fight for me, Russia's arms and the British fleet Will shelter me in my safe retreat, Italy's brave are in the field, And Canada's troops will never yield."
Again in the darkness I heard a call: "Come over and help us in the fight, For the cause of freedom we give our all, In the name of honor and truth and right!" But my heart was sick with desperate strife, And I clung to peace as this nation's life. So I sent my answer across the sea: "The sons of France shall die for me, Russia's arms and the British fleet, Will guard this nation against defeat, Italy's troops are staunch and strong, And Belgium's faith shall conquer wrong."
​Out of the East came a piercing cry: "'Tis you in your safe retreat who die! Alive are the sons of France to-day, O'er the British fleet death holds no sway, Russia's arms, and Italy's brave, The valor of Belgium strong to save, These the immortal standards bear, You are the dead men over there In the land made free by the blood of France, Boasting the Briton's inheritance, Strong with the strength of every land, Your fair flag droops in a nerveless hand."
At dawn I rose with my soul aflame, And I flashed this message across the deep: "With the living nations enroll my name! Brothers, we waken from our sleep; From stately mansion and workshop small, From mine and mill and college hall, From mountain and valley and river town, Men of this nation are winding down. Sons of France, we will fight to-day! Fight for the debt we long to pay, Fight for the valiant British fleet Guarding our nation from defeat."
And when at last on some glorious morn, The Peace of a ransomed world is born, And immortal standards in triumph wave, ​Over the heads of the free and the brave, Glory of France and Britain's pride, With the Stars and Stripes shall be side by side.
—Caroline Ticknor
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/Then Give Us Wings

THEN GIVE US WINGS
If wings will help our men to see Some Boche's belching battery, Unloosing from a screen of trees Its screeching death upon the breeze— Or help our giant guns to search With truer aim each hidden perch Of Teuton guns, and make them meek, Ere they again may chance to speak—
If wings, O God, will do these things, Then give us wings.
If great, destroying wings might stay Munitions in their hurried way, Or hold a reënforcement back By dropping ruin on its track, Or yet set free the pent-up hell Of depots filled with shot and shell, Or swiftly give eternal sleep To ships that prowl the nether deep—
If wings, O God, will do these things, Then give us wings and still more wings.
If fast, avenging wings might cast On German cities such a blast Of desolating death and pain ​As fell again and still again On England's homes—and thus awake The heart of pity—and so make An end to killing mothers, wives, And maiming helpless infant lives—
If wings, O God, will do these things, Then give us wings, and wings and wings And still more wings.
If dauntless, daring wings that dash O'er No-Man's Land, with shot and crash, Might beat back wings that would assail Advancing armies with their hail— If dauntless wings like these that ride O'er No-Man's Land, might turn the tide Of great offensive—bring about Allied success and Teuton rout—
If wings, O God, will do these things, Then give us wings and wings and wings Devouring wings that cleave and soar, And yet more wings and more and more!
If multitudes of wings might rise To blind aggression's lustful eyes, And render powerless every stroke That seeks to force the tyrant's yoke— If multitudes of wings might give ​Democracy a chance to live, And make this bloody carnage cease, And bring to earth a lasting peace—
If wings, O God, will do these things, Then give us wings, and wings and wings, And still more wings arrayed to smite Till Vict'ry come—the hosts of light Beneath the sun, whose pinions shine Beyond our farthest battle line!
—Anthony Euwer
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Star Spangled Banner—with Variations

THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER—WITH VARIATIONS
I
Oh, say, can you sing from the start to the end What so proudly you stand for when orchestras play it— When the whole congregation, in voices that blend, Strike up the grand hymn, and then torture and slay it? How they bellow and shout, When they're just starting out!— But "the dawn's early light" finds them flound'ring about 'Tis The Star Spangled Banner they're trying to sing,— But they don't know the words of the precious old thing.
II
Hark, "the twilight's last gleaming" has some of them stopped. But the valiant survivors press onward serenely To "the ramparts we watched," where some others are dropped, And the loss of the leaders is manifest keenly. Then "the rocket's red glare" ​Gives the bravest a scare, And there's few left to face the "bombs bursting in air"— 'Tis a thin line of heroes that manage to save The last of the verse and "the home of the brave!"
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Stars

THE STARS
Can it be possible that these same stars, That smile in heavenly beneficence Upon the dewy reaches of the fields, And shadows of the quiet, sleeping woods, Shine, too, on Europe's throes of agony? Yea, even so, and God be thanked 'tis so,— On War's red death the quiet stars look down And on the trenches clear Orion beams As fair as o'er the spires of Coventry; Some lonely lad from Normandy, perchance, Or son of far America, may catch With dying eyes the twinkling Pleiades, And see in them the old sweet walks of home; Antares' gleam, Capella's golden light Speak but one tongue, need no interpreter: But more, to every doubting heart they speak, While empires rock, and earth and air and sea Drink heedlessly the priceless blood of youth,— God still His watch must keep; the stars still shine!
—Agnes McConnell Sligh
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Wounded Soldier in the Convent

THE WOUNDED SOLDIER IN THE CONVENT
What is that clanging noise I hear Through the still convent ringing? It is the carriage-ambulance A wounded soldier bringing.
Upon his coat the blood-spots shine; He limps—a shell has caught him— His gun he uses for a crutch, Descending, to support him.
A veteran he, with fierce moustache— The triple stripes he's wearing— All prudes and hypocrites he loathes, And starts by loudly swearing.
Well-nigh insulting are his looks, With ill-bred gibes he rallies The novices—beneath their caps They blush at his coarse sallies.
If at his side, thinking he sleeps, The sister breathes a prayer, Straightway astir he fills his pipe And whistles a bored air.
What use to him their faithful watch, The care that never ceases? ​He knows his leg is lost and done, And he'll be hacked to pieces.
He's very angry—Let him be! Here no one knows impatience, There reigns an atmosphere that soothes And cows the rudest patients.
Slow is the spell, but sure, that wields This band, to service given, With fingers soft they touch the wounds, And softly speak of Heaven.
So subtle is their pious charm, Our grumbler soon will see it In his own way—and to each prayer Make the response, "So be it!"
—Francois Coppee
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/To a Canadian Aviator Who Died for His Country in France

TO A CANADIAN AVIATOR WHO DIED FOR HIS COUNTRY IN FRANCE
Permission of the author and Scribner's Magazine, New York
Tossed like a falcon from the hunter's wrist, A sweeping plunge, a sudden shattering noise, And thou hast dared with a long spiral twist The elastic stairway to the rising sun. Peril below thee and above, peril Within thy car; but peril cannot daunt Thy peerless heart: gathering wing and poise, Thy plane transfigured, and thy motor-chant Subdued to a murmur—then a silence,— And thou art but a disembodied venture In the void.
But Death, who has learned to fly, Still matchless when his work is to be done, Met thee between the armies and the sun; Thy speck of shadow faltered in the sky; Then thy dead engine and thy broken wings Drooped through the arc and passed in fire,— A wreath of smoke—a breathless exhalation. But ere that vision sealed thine eyes, Lulling thy senses with oblivion; And from its sliding station in the skies Thy dauntless soul upward in circles soared ​To the sublime and purest radiance whence it sprang.
In all their eyries eagles shall mourn thy fate, And leaving on the lonely crags and scaurs Their unprotected young, shall congregate High in the tenuous heaven and anger the sun With screams, and with a wild audacity Dare all the battle danger of thy flight; Till weary with combat one shall desert the light, Fall like a bolt of thunder and check his fall On the high ledge, smoky with mist and cloud, Where his neglected eaglets shriek aloud, And drawing the film across his sovereign sight Shall dream of thy swift soul immortal Mounting in circles, faithful beyond death.
—Duncan Campbell Scott
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Unfurling of the Flag

THE UNFURLING OF THE FLAG
Permission of the author
There's a streak across the sky line That is gleaming in the sun, Watchers from the light-house towers Signaled it to foreign Powers Just as daylight had begun, Message thrilling, Hopes fulfilling To those fighting o'er the seas. "It's the flag we've named Old Glory That's unfurling to the breeze."
Can you see the flashing emblem Of our Country's high ideal? Keep your lifted eyes upon it And draw joy and courage from it, For it stands for what is real, Freedom's calling To the falling From oppression's hard decrees. It's the flag we've named Old Glory You see floating in the breeze.
Glorious flag we raise so proudly, Stars and stripes, red, white and blue, You have been the inspiration Of an ever-growing nation ​Such as this world never knew. Peace and Justice, Freedom, Progress, Are the blessings we can seize When the flag we call Old Glory Is unfurling to the breeze.
When the cry of battling nations Reaches us across the space Of the wild tumultuous ocean, Hearts are stirred with deep emotion For the saving of the race! Peace foregoing, Aid bestowing, Bugles blowing, First we drop on bended knees, Then with shouts our Grand Old Glory We set flaunting to the breeze!
—Clara Endicott Sears
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Wrist Watch Man

THE WRIST WATCH MAN
By permission of the author and the publishers, The Reilly & Britton Co., Chicago
He is marching dusty highways and he's riding bitter trails, His eyes are clear and shining and his muscles hard as nails. He is wearing Yankee khaki and a healthy coat of tan, And the chap that we are backing is the Wrist Watch Man.
He's no parlor dude, a-prancing, he's no puny pacifist, And it's not for affectation, there's a watch upon his wrist. He's a fine two-fisted scrapper, he is pure American, And the backbone of the nation is the Wrist Watch Man.
He is marching with a rifle, he is digging in a trench, He is swapping English phrases with a poilu for his French; You will find him in the navy doing anything he can, For at every post of duty is the Wrist Watch Man.
​Oh, the time was that we chuckled at the soft and flabby chap Who wore a little wrist watch that was fastened with a strap. But the chuckles all have vanished, and with glory now we scan The courage and the splendor of the Wrist Watch Man.
He is not the man we laughed at, not the one who won our jeers, He's the man that we are proud of, he's the man that owns our cheers; He's the finest of the finest, he's the bravest of the clan, And I pray for God's protection for our Wrist Watch Man.
—Edgar A. Guest
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/To France

TO FRANCE!
To France! To France! The magic music falls Across the world the voice of God now calls To France! The war bells ring, and all the wide world gongs, As soldiers march out with their battle songs To France!
The bugles and the music of the earth Call out with joy and marvelous mirth To France! To France for God, to France for Liberty To France for Peace and our Democracy, To France!
Columbia's hand now lifts the torch of war And starts with blinding light across the star To France! The millions, brilliant, march on down the sky And great America rings with all the cry To France!
Come one, come all, to spend your lives and gold. Come heroes, gentlemen, the brave, the bold, To France! ​Come, citizens in khaki, every one, Come, find your God, come march into the sun, To France!
To France, to France, the bugles, silver curled, Go ringing out their chimes across the world To France! Come one, come all, the magic music falls, The voice of God goes ringing with its calls, To France!
—Edwin Curran
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Workers

THE WORKERS
By permission of the author
We laid the keel of the ship that sails the waters of peace or war. We built her strong for the strongest gales, and big for the load she bore! We made the ship and we made her great with the things that we put inside— We made the ship and we made the freight, the seas of the world to ride!
If a ship of war, then we made her guns—if a ship of trade, her wares! She's built of the bone of the working ones, and the blood of her flag is theirs! Sailor or soldier or citizen she will carry across the main— She's made of the muscle of working men, and born of the worker's brain.
The load of her deck, the grain of her hold, whatever her cargo be, Food or clothing or goods or gold, whatever she takes to sea, The sower's arm or the toiler's toil made ready the thing to go— The shop's machine or the farmer's soil or the forge's lusty blow!
​The birds of the sea must nest on land, on the land the birds are born; They must take their stores from the toiler's hand, they must take their wheat and corn; For they who sail are a mighty race, and serving a mighty need— But he who stands in the Worker's place is serving the world indeed!
—Douglas Malloch
# Piccadilly Jim

The story takes its title from the charismatic character of Jimmy Crocker, Nesta's nephew (and mother of the obnoxious "Little Nugget"). 'Jim' is called upon to assist in the kidnapping of Ogden, amongst much confusion involving imposters, crooks, detectives, butlers, aunts etc.—all in the name of romance.Warning: template has been deprecated.

### CONTENTS

CHAPTER
* A RED-HAIRED GIRL
* THE EXILED FAN
* FAMILY JARS
* JIMMY'S DISTURBING NEWS
* THE MORNING AFTER
* JIMMY ABANDONS PICCADILLY
* ON THE BOAT-DECK
* PAINFUL SCENE IN A CAFE
* MRS. PETT IS SHOCKED
* INSTRUCTION IN DEPORTMENT
* JIMMY DECIDES TO BE HIMSELF
* JIMMY CATCHES THE BOSS'S EYE
* SLIGHT COMPLICATIONS
* LORD WISBEACH
* A LITTLE BUSINESS CHAT
* MRS. PETT TAKES PRECAUTIONS
* MISS TRIMBLE, DETECTIVE
* THE VOICE PROM THE PAST
* BETWEEN FATHER AND SON
* CELESTINE IMPARTS INFORMATION
* CHICAGO ED.
* IN THE LIBRARY
* STIRRING TIMES FOR THE PETTS
* SENSATIONAL TURNING OF A WORM
* NEARLY EVERYBODY HAPPY
* EVERYBODY HAPPY
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1975, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 48 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Pictures & poems/Proserpina

Proserpina
PROSERPINA
AFAR away the light that brings cold cheer
Unto this wall,—one instant and no more
Admitted at my distant palace-door.
Afar the flowers of Enna from this drear
Dire fruit, which, tasted once, must thrall me here.
Afar those skies from this Tartarean grey
That chills me: and afar, how far away,
The nights that shall be from the days that were.
Afar from mine own self I seem, and wing
Strange ways in thought, and listen for a sign:
And still some heart unto some soul doth pine,
(Whose sounds mine inner sense is fain to bring,
Continually together murmuring,)—
"Woe's me for thee, unhappy Proserpine!"
# Pictures & poems/The Day-Dream

The Day-Dream
THE DAY-DREAM
THE thronged boughs of the shadowy sycamore
Still bear young leaflets half the summer through;
From when the robin 'gainst the unhidden blue
Perched dark, till now, deep in the leafy core,
The embowered throstle's urgent wood-notes soar
Through summer silence. Still the leaves come new;
Yet never rosy-sheathed as those which drew
Their spiral tongues from spring-buds heretofore.
Within the branching shade of Reverie
Dreams even may spring till autumn; yet none be
Like woman's budding day-dream spirit-fann'd.
Lo, tow'rd deep skies, not deeper than her look,
She dreams; till now on her forgotten book
# Pictures & poems/Mary Magdalene

Mary Magdalene
At the Door of Simon the Pharisee
MARY MAGDALENE
At the Door of Simon the Pharisee
"WHY wilt thou cast the roses from thine hair?
Nay, be thou all a rose,—wreath, lips, and cheek.
Nay, not this house,—that banquet-house we seek;
See how they kiss and enter; come thou there.
This delicate day of love we two will share
Till at our ear love's whispering night shall speak.
What, sweet one,—hold'st thou still the foolish freak?
Nay, when I kiss thy feet they 'll leave the stair."
"Oh loose me! Seest thou not my Bridegroom's face
That draws me to Him? For His feet my kiss,
My hair, my tears He craves to-day:—and oh!
What words can tell what other day and place
Shall see me clasp those blood-stained feet of His?
He needs me, calls me, loves me: let me go!"
# Pictures & poems/Mnemosyne

Mnemosyne
MNEMOSYNE
THOU fill'st from the winged chalice of the soul