Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

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Excerpt #1, from Now It Can Be Told, by Philip Gibbs

…tame bear named Flanagan was the comic character of the camp. Colonel Campbell found a thousand qualities of character in this animal, and brought laughter back to gloomy boys by his description of them. He had names for many of his pets–the game-cocks and the mother-hens; and he taught the men to know each one, and to rear chicks, and tend flowers, and grow vegetables. Love, and not hate, was now his gospel. All his training was done by games, simple games arousing intelligence, leading up to elaborate games demanding skill of hand and eye. He challenged the whole army system of discipline imposed by authority by a new system of self-discipline based upon interest and instinct. His results were startling, and men who had been dumb, blear-eyed, dejected, shell-shocked wrecks of life were changed quite quickly into bright, cheery fellows, with laughter in their eyes. “It’s a pity,” he said, “they have to go off again and be shot to pieces. I cure them only to be killed–but that’s not my fault. It’s the fault of war.” It was Colonel Campbell who discovered “Willie Woodbine,” the fighting parson and soldier’s poet, who was the leading member of a traveling troupe of thick-eared thugs. They gave pugilistic entertainments to tired men. Each of them had one thick ear. Willie Woodbine had two. They fought one another with science (as old professionals) and challenged…

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Excerpt #2, from The Book of the Dead, by Sir E. A. Wallis Budge

…which the gods had given him and began to reign over the dead. He was absolute king of this realm, just as Ra the Sun-god was absolute king of the sky. This region of the dead, or Dead-land, is called “Tat,” or “Tuat,” but where the Egyptians thought it was situated is not quite clear. The original home of the cult of Osiris was in the Delta, in a city which in historic times was called Tetu by the Egyptians and Busiris by the Greeks, and it is reasonable to assume that the Tuat, over which Osiris ruled, was situated near this place. Wherever it was it was not underground, and it was not originally in the sky or even on its confines; but it was located on the borders of the visible world, in the Outer Darkness. The Tuat was not a place of happiness, judging from the description of it in the PER-T EM HRU, or Book of the Dead. When Ani the scribe arrived there he said, “What is this to which I have come? There is neither water nor air here, its depth is unfathomable, it is as dark as the darkest night, and men wander about here helplessly. A man cannot live here and be satisfied, and he cannot gratify the cravings of affection” (Chapter CLXXV). In the Tuat there was neither tree nor plant, for it was the “land where nothing grew”; and in primitive times it was a region of destruction and death, a place where the dead rotted and decayed, a place of abomination, and horror and terror, and annihilation. But…

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Excerpt #3, from Helps to Latin Translation at Sight, by Edmund Luce

…Atque inter geminas pingantur cornua frontes: Sic etenim comptum mittere oportet opus. TIBULLUS, III. i. 9-14. C. Qui tecum cupis esse meos ubicumque libellos Et comites longae quaeris habere viae, Hos eme, quos artat brevibus membrana tabellis: Scrinia da magnis, me manus una capit. 4 Ne tamen ignores ubi sim venalis et erres Urbe vagus tota, me duce certus eris: Libertum docti Lucensis quaere Secundum Limina post Pacis Palladiumque forum. 8 MARTIAL, I. ii. Cf. HOR. Epist. I. xx.; CATULL. xxii, 4-8; STATIUS, Silvae, IV. ix. ARETHUSA. ‘As an eagle pursuing A dove to its ruin Down the streams of the cloudy wind.’–SHELLEY. A. Lassa revertebar (memini) Stymphalide silva; 585…

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Excerpt #4, from Man and Superman: A Comedy and a Philosophy, by Bernard Shaw

…have left vacant above? THE STATUE. [shaking his head] I cannot conscientiously recommend anybody with whom I am on friendly terms to deliberately make himself dull and uncomfortable. THE DEVIL. Of course not; but are you sure HE would be uncomfortable? Of course you know best: you brought him here originally; and we had the greatest hopes of him. His sentiments were in the best taste of our best people. You remember how he sang? [He begins to sing in a nasal operatic baritone, tremulous from an eternity of misuse in the French manner]. Vivan le femmine! Viva il buon vino! THE STATUE. [taking up the tune an octave higher in his counter tenor] Sostegno a gloria D’umanita. THE DEVIL. Precisely. Well, he never sings for us now. DON JUAN. Do you complain of that? Hell is full of musical amateurs: music is the brandy of the damned. May not one lost soul be permitted to abstain? THE DEVIL. You dare blaspheme against the sublimest of the arts! DON JUAN. [with cold disgust] You talk like a hysterical woman fawning on a fiddler….

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Excerpt #5, from The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 1, by Edgar Allan Poe

…their remarkable situation. They would appear to be walking, with heels up and head down, in the manner of flies on a ceiling. The real observer would have uttered an instant ejaculation of surprise (however prepared by previous knowledge) at the singularity of their position; the fictitious observer has not even mentioned the subject, but speaks of seeing the entire bodies of such creatures, when it is demonstrable that he could have seen only the diameter of their heads! It might as well be remarked, in conclusion, that the size, and particularly the powers of the man-bats (for example, their ability to fly in so rare an atmosphere—if, indeed, the moon have any), with most of the other fancies in regard to animal and vegetable existence, are at variance, generally, with all analogical reasoning on these themes; and that analogy here will often amount to conclusive demonstration. It is, perhaps, scarcely necessary to add, that all the suggestions attributed to Brewster and Herschel, in the beginning of the article, about “a transfusion of artificial light through the focal object of vision,” etc., etc., belong to that species of figurative writing which comes, most properly, under the denomination of rigmarole. There is a real and very definite limit to optical discovery…

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Excerpt #6, from The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway

…“Want to walk back?” “Through the park.” We climbed down. It was clouding over again. In the park it was dark under the trees. “Do you still love me, Jake?” “Yes,” I said. “Because I’m a goner,” Brett said. “How?” “I’m a goner. I’m mad about the Romero boy. I’m in love with him, I think.” “I wouldn’t be if I were you.” “I can’t help it. I’m a goner. It’s tearing me all up inside.” “Don’t do it.” “I can’t help it. I’ve never been able to help anything.” “You ought to stop it.” “How can I stop it? I can’t stop things. Feel that?” Her hand was trembling. “I’m like that all through.” “You oughtn’t to do it.” “I can’t help it. I’m a goner now, anyway. Don’t you see the difference?”…

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Excerpt #7, from The Declaration of Independence of the United States of America, by Thomas Jefferson

…a powerful challenge, at odds, and split asunder. To those new states whom we welcome to the ranks of the free: we pledge our word that one form of colonial control shall not have passed away merely to be replaced by a far more iron tyranny. We shall not always expect to find them supporting our view. But we shall always hope to find them strongly supporting their own freedom. . .and to remember that. . .in the past. . .those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside. To those people in the huts and villages of half the globe struggling to break the bonds of mass misery: we pledge our best efforts to help them help themselves, for whatever period is required. . .not because the Communists may be doing it, not because we seek their votes, but because it is right. If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich. To our sister republics south of our border: we offer a special pledge. . . to convert our good words into good deeds. . .in a new alliance for progress . . .to assist free men and free governments in casting off the chains of poverty. But this peaceful revolution of hope cannot become the prey of hostile powers. Let all our neighbors know that we shall join with them to oppose aggression or subversion anywhere in the Americas. . .and let…

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Excerpt #8, from The Heroes; Or, Greek Fairy Tales for My Children, by Charles Kingsley

…the other in her arms, and leaped from a cliff into the sea, and was changed into a dolphin, such as you have seen, which wanders over the waves for ever sighing, with its little one clasped to its breast. But the people drove out King Athamas, because he had killed his child; and he roamed about in his misery, till he came to the Oracle in Delphi. And the Oracle told him that he must wander for his sin, till the wild beasts should feast him as their guest. So he went on in hunger and sorrow for many a weary day, till he saw a pack of wolves. The wolves were tearing a sheep; but when they saw Athamas they fled, and left the sheep for him, and he ate of it; and then he knew that the oracle was fulfilled at last. So he wandered no more; but settled, and built a town, and became a king again. But the ram carried the two children far away over land and sea, till he came to the Thracian Chersonese, and there Helle fell into the sea. So those narrow straits are called ‘Hellespont,’ after her; and they bear that name until this day. Then the ram flew on with Phrixus to the north-east across the sea which we call the Black Sea now; but the Hellens call it Euxine. And at last, they say, he stopped at Colchis, on the steep Circassian coast; and there Phrixus married Chalciope, the daughter of Aietes the king; and offered the ram in sacrifice; and Aietes nailed the ram’s fleece to a beech, in…

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Excerpt #9, from Vikram and the Vampire: Classic Hindu Tales of Adventure, Magic, and Romance

…“Yea,” replied the minister’s son, “the sage hath said– “The road of love is that which hath no beginning nor end; Take thou heed of thyself, man I ere thou place foot upon it. “And the wise, knowing that there are three things whose effect upon himself no man can foretell–namely, desire of woman, the dice-box, and the drinking of ardent spirits–find total abstinence from them the best of rules. Yet, after all, if there is no cow, we must milk the bull.” The advice was, of course, excellent, but the hapless lover could not help thinking that on this occasion it came a little too late. However, after a pause he returned to the subject and said, “I have ventured to tread that dangerous way, be its end pain or pleasure, happiness or destruction.” He then hung down his head and sighed from the bottom of his heart. “She is the person who appeared to us at the tank?” asked the pradhan’s son, moved to compassion by the state of his master. The prince assented. “O great king,” resumed the minister’s son, “at the time of going away had she said anything to you? or had you said anything to her?” “Nothing!” replied the other laconically, when he found his friend beginning to take an interest in the affair. “Then,” said the minister’s son, “it will be exceedingly difficult to…

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Excerpt #10, from Ivanhoe: A Romance, by Walter Scott

…If this yeoman can cleave that rod, I give him the bucklers—or rather, I yield to the devil that is in his jerkin, and not to any human skill; a man can but do his best, and I will not shoot where I am sure to miss. I might as well shoot at the edge of our parson’s whittle, or at a wheat straw, or at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I can hardly see.” “Cowardly dog!” said Prince John.—“Sirrah Locksley, do thou shoot; but, if thou hittest such a mark, I will say thou art the first man ever did so. However it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of superior skill.” “I will do my best, as Hubert says,” answered Locksley; “no man can do more.” So saying, he again bent his bow, but on the present occasion looked with attention to his weapon, and changed the string, which he thought was no longer truly round, having been a little frayed by the two former shots. He then took his aim with some deliberation, and the multitude awaited the event in breathless silence. The archer vindicated their opinion of his skill: his arrow split the willow rod against which it was aimed. A jubilee of acclamations followed; and even Prince John, in admiration of Locksley’s skill, lost for an instant his dislike to his person. “These twenty nobles,” he said,…

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Excerpt #11, from Literary Lapses, by Stephen Leacock

…read: “Fair Lydia, if my earthly harp.” This is crossed out, and below it appears, “Fair Lydia, COULD my earthly harp.” This again is erased, and under it appears, “Fair Lydia, SHOULD my earthly harp.” This again is struck out with a despairing stroke, and amended to read: “Fair Lydia, DID my earthly harp.” So that finally, when the lines appeared in the Gentleman’s Magazine (1845) in their ultimate shape–“Fair Edith, when with fluent pen,” etc., etc.–one can realize from what a desperate congelation the fluent pen had been so perseveringly rescued. There can be little doubt of the deleterious effect occasioned both to public and private morals by this deliberate exaltation of mental susceptibility on the part of the early Victorian. In many cases we can detect the evidences of incipient paresis. The undue access of emotion frequently assumed a pathological character. The sight of a daisy, of a withered leaf or an upturned sod, seemed to disturb the poet’s mental equipoise. Spring unnerved him. The lambs distressed him. The flowers made him cry. The daffodils made him laugh. Day dazzled him. Night frightened him. This exalted mood, combined with the man’s culpable ignorance of the plainest principles of physical science, made him see something out of the ordinary in the flight of a waterfowl or the song of a skylark. He complained that he could HEAR it, but not SEE it–a phenomenon too…

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Excerpt #12, from The Sea

…any such sacrifice for Sir Oliver, could not believe Sir Oliver capable of persisting in such a sacrifice as future events might impose. He reverted to those words Sir Oliver had uttered in that very room two nights ago, and more firmly than ever he concluded that they could have but one meaning. Then came doubt, and, finally, assurance of another sort, assurance that this was not so and that he knew it; assurance that he lied to himself, seeking to condone the thing he did. He took his head in his hands and groaned loud. He was a villain, a black-hearted, soulless villain! He reviled himself again. There came a moment when he rose shuddering, resolved even in this eleventh hour to go after his brother and save him from the doom that awaited him out yonder in the night. But again that resolve was withered by the breath of selfish fear. Limply he resumed his seat, and his thoughts took a fresh turn. They considered now those matters which had engaged them on that day when Sir Oliver had ridden to Arwenack to claim satisfaction of Sir John Killigrew. He realized again that Oliver being removed, what he now enjoyed by his brother’s bounty he would enjoy henceforth in his own unquestioned right. The reflection brought him a certain consolation. If he must suffer for his villainy, at least there would be compensations….

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