Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:25:33

Excerpt #1, from The philosophy of biology, by James Johnstone

…upon by the enzymes of the alimentary canal and are decomposed into their immediate constituents, amino-acids, and then other enzymes rearrange these amino-acids so as to form proteid again, but proteids of the same kinds as those characteristic of the tissues. This decomposition and re-synthesis is carried out also with respect to the fats and carbohydrates ingested. The result is that the food taken into the alimentary canal, or at least a part of it, is built up into the living substance of the animal’s body. The energy expended upon these processes of digestion and assimilation is probably inconsiderable. During these processes the animal absorbs available chemical energy. The energy thus taken into the animal is then transformed. The major part of it appears as mechanical energy–that of bodily movement, the movements of heart, lungs, blood, etc.–and heat. Some part of it becomes nervous energy, by which rather vague term we mean the energy involved in the propagation of nervous impulses. Some of it is used in glandular reactions, in the formation of the digestive juices, for instance. The most of it, however, transforms to mechanical energy and heat. Just how these energy transformations are effected we do not know. The heat is, of course, the result of chemical changes, oxidations, decompositions, or changes of the same kind as that of the dilution of sulphuric acid by water, but the mechanical energy appears…

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Excerpt #2, from Right Ho, Jeeves, by P. G. Wodehouse

…the red and expecting Civilisation to take a toss at any moment had caused Uncle Tom, who always looked a bit like a pterodactyl with a secret sorrow, to take on a deeper melancholy. The Bassett was a silent bread crumbler. Angela might have been hewn from the living rock. Tuppy had the air of a condemned murderer refusing to make the usual hearty breakfast before tooling off to the execution shed. And as for Gussie Fink-Nottle, many an experienced undertaker would have been deceived by his appearance and started embalming him on sight. This was the first glimpse I had had of Gussie since we parted at my flat, and I must say his demeanour disappointed me. I had been expecting something a great deal more sparkling. At my flat, on the occasion alluded to, he had, if you recall, practically given me a signed guarantee that all he needed to touch him off was a rural setting. Yet in this aspect now I could detect no indication whatsoever that he was about to round into mid-season form. He still looked like a cat in an adage, and it did not take me long to realise that my very first act on escaping from this morgue must be to draw him aside and give him a pep talk. If ever a chap wanted the clarion note, it looked as if it was this Fink-Nottle. In the general exodus of mourners, however, I lost sight of him, and,…

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Excerpt #3, 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 #4, from The Wave: An Egyptian Aftermath, by Algernon Blackwood

…with its graceful colonnades, and the Chapel, flanked by cool, dark chambers, where the Sacred Boat floated on its tideless sea beyond the world, he moved on across the sandy waste of broken stone again, and reached in a few minutes the towering grey and reddish sandstone that was Amon’s Temple. This was the goal of his little pilgrimage. Sublimity closed round him. The gigantic pylon, its shoulders breaking the sky four-square far overhead, seemed the prodigious portal of another world. Slowly he passed within, crossed the Great Court where the figures of ancient Theban deities peered at him between the forest of broken monoliths and lovely Osiris pillars, then, moving softly beneath the second enormous pylon, found himself on the threshold of the Great Hypostyle Hall itself. He caught his breath, he paused, then stepped within on tiptoe, and the hush of four thousand years closed after him. Awe stole upon him; he felt himself included in the great ideal of this older day. The stupendous aisles lent him their vast shelter; the fierce sunlight could not burn his flesh; the air was cool and sweet in these dim recesses of unremembered time. He passed his hand with reverence over the drum-shaped blocks that built up the majestic columns, as they reared towards the massive, threatening roof. The countless inscriptions and reliefs showered upon his sight bewilderingly….

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Excerpt #5, from Essays, by Ralph Waldo Emerson, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

…furnish him with one good thought or happy expression; but it is necessary to write a letter to a friend, and, forthwith, troops of gentle thoughts invest themselves, on every hand, with chosen words. See in any house where virtue and self-respect abide, the palpitation which the approach of a stranger causes. A commended stranger is expected and announced, and an uneasiness between pleasure and pain invades all the hearts of a household. His arrival almost brings fear to the good hearts that would welcome him. The house is dusted, all things fly into their places, the old coat is exchanged for the new, and they must get up a dinner if they can. Of a commended stranger, only the good report is told by others, only the good and new is heard by us. He stands to us for humanity. He is, what we wish. Having imagined and invested him, we ask how we should stand related in conversation and action with such a man, and are uneasy with fear. The same idea exalts conversation with him. We talk better than we are wont. We have the nimblest fancy, a richer memory, and our dumb devil has taken leave for the time. For long hours we can continue a series of sincere, graceful, rich communications, drawn from the oldest, secretest experience, so that they who sit by, of our own kinsfolk and acquaintance, shall feel a lively surprise at our unusual powers. But as soon as the stranger begins to intrude his partialities, his…

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Excerpt #6, from Raw Gold: A Novel, by Bertrand W. Sinclair

…torture to feet that were sadly galled by fruitless tramping around the Stone. When a man has grown up in the habit of mounting a horse to travel any distance over three hundred yards, a walk of twenty undulating miles over a network of bald ridges and yawning coulées makes him think that a sulphur-and-brimstone hereafter can’t possibly hold much discomfort that he hasn’t sampled. A cowpuncher in high-heeled riding-boots is handicapped for pedestrianism by both training and inclination–and that scarred and wrinkled portion of the Northwest is a mighty poor strolling-ground for any man. But we kept on, for the simple reason that there was nothing else we could do. MacRae wasted no breath in words. If the heat and the ungodly steepness of the hills and the luke-warm water that trickled along the creek channels ruffled his temper, he made no noise about it, only pressed doggedly toward Pend d’ Oreille. I daresay he thought I was attending to that part of it, registering a complaint for both of us. And if I didn’t rise to the occasion it was the fault of my limited vocabulary. I kept a stiff backbone for a while, but presently a futile rage against circumstances bubbled up and boiled over. I climbed each succeeding canyon wall oozing perspiration and profanity, and when the top was reached took fresh breath and damned the Northwest by sections in a large, fluent manner of speech. In time, however, the foolishness…

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Excerpt #7, from The British Navy Book, by Cyril Field

…another of Royal Marine Artillery were attached to the army, the latter being told off as a body-guard to Lord Wolseley. But we must not omit to mention Lieutenant Rawson of the Royal Navy, to whom was committed the important task of guiding the night march of the army against the Egyptian lines of Tel-el-Kebir by the aid of the stars, and who fell in the moment of victory. “No man more gallant fell on that occasion,” reported Lord Wolseley. Naval brigades were well to the fore in the fighting which took place in the Sudan in 1884-5. At the Battle of El Teb 13 naval officers and 150 seamen, with six machine-guns, were present, as well as a battalion of 400 marines. It was in this action that Captain A. K. Wilson–now Admiral of the Fleet, Sir A. K. Wilson, V.C., G.C.B., O.M., G.C.V.O.–gained the V.C. for the gallant way in which he, single-handed, engaged no less than six of the enemy who had endeavoured to capture one of his machine-guns. The naval brigade suffered heavy casualties at the Battle of Tamaii, which took place not long afterwards. In the Gordon Relief Expedition the naval brigade was naturally of great use on the Nile, and a small detachment of fifty-eight seamen under Lord Charles Beresford accompanied the Camel Corps in its dash across the desert and took part in the fiercely-contested fights of Abu Klea and Abu Kru. The marines formed…

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Excerpt #8, from History of Egypt, Chaldea, Syria, Babylonia, and Assyria in the Light of Recent

…platform of natural rock, about fifteen feet high. To north and south of this were open courts. The southern is bounded by the hill; the northern is now bounded by the Great Temple of Hat-shepsu, but, before this was built, there was evidently a very large open court here. The face of the rock platform is masked by a wall of large rectangular blocks of fine white limestone, some of which measure six feet by three feet six inches. They are beautifully squared and laid in bonded courses of alternate sizes, and the walls generally may be said to be among the finest yet found in Egypt. We have already remarked that the architects of the Middle Kingdom appear to have been specially fond of fine masonry in white stone. The contrast between these splendid XIth Dynasty walls, with their great base-stones of sandstone, and the bad rough masonry of the XVIIIth Dynasty temple close by, is striking. The XVIIIth Dynasty architects and masons had degenerated considerably from the standard of the Middle Kingdom. This rock platform was approached from the east in the centre by an inclined plane or ramp, of which part of the original pavement of wooden beams remains in situ. [Illustration: 324.jpg XIth DYNASTY WALL: DÊR EL-BAHARI.] Excavated by Mr. Hall, 1904, for the Egypt Exploration Fund. To right and left of this ramp are colonnades, each of twenty-two square…

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Excerpt #9, from The Declaration of Independence of the United States of America, by Thomas Jefferson

…but shall have no Vote, unless they be equally divided. The Senate shall choose their other Officers, and also a President pro tempore, in the Absence of the Vice-President, or when he shall exercise the Office of President of the United States. The Senate shall have the sole Power to try all Impeachments. When sitting for that Purpose, they shall be on Oath or Affirmation. When the President of the United States is tried, the Chief Justice shall preside: And no Person shall be convicted without the Concurrence of two thirds of the Members present. Judgment in cases of Impeachment shall not extend further than to removal from Office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any Office of honor, Trust or Profit under the United States: but the Party convicted shall nevertheless be liable and subject to Indictment, Trial, Judgment and Punishment, according to Law. Section 4. The Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof; but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Regulations, except as to the Places of chusing Senators. The Congress shall assemble at least once in every Year, and such Meeting shall be on the first Monday in December, unless they shall by law appoint a different Day….

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Excerpt #10, from Ulysses, by James Joyce

…carried. Might just walk into her here. The lane is safer. He passed the cabman’s shelter. Curious the life of drifting cabbies. All weathers, all places, time or setdown, no will of their own. Voglio e non. Like to give them an odd cigarette. Sociable. Shout a few flying syllables as they pass. He hummed: Là ci darem la mano La la lala la la. He turned into Cumberland street and, going on some paces, halted in the lee of the station wall. No-one. Meade’s timberyard. Piled balks. Ruins and tenements. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. Not a sinner. Near the timberyard a squatted child at marbles, alone, shooting the taw with a cunnythumb. A wise tabby, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill. Pity to disturb them. Mohammed cut a piece out of his mantle not to wake her. Open it. And once I played marbles when I went to that old dame’s school. She liked mignonette. Mrs Ellis’s. And Mr? He opened the letter within the newspaper. A flower. I think it’s a. A yellow flower with flattened petals. Not annoyed then? What does she say? Dear Henry I got your last letter to me and thank you very much for it. I am sorry…

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Excerpt #11, from Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka

…all the doors were locked? Despite all the difficulty he was in, he could not suppress a smile at this thought. After a while he had already moved so far across that it would have been hard for him to keep his balance if he rocked too hard. The time was now ten past seven and he would have to make a final decision very soon. Then there was a ring at the door of the flat. “That’ll be someone from work”, he said to himself, and froze very still, although his little legs only became all the more lively as they danced around. For a moment everything remained quiet. “They’re not opening the door”, Gregor said to himself, caught in some nonsensical hope. But then of course, the maid’s firm steps went to the door as ever and opened it. Gregor only needed to hear the visitor’s first words of greeting and he knew who it was—the chief clerk himself. Why did Gregor have to be the only one condemned to work for a company where they immediately became highly suspicious at the slightest shortcoming? Were all employees, every one of them, louts, was there not one of them who was faithful and devoted who would go so mad with pangs of conscience that he couldn’t get out of bed if he didn’t spend at least a couple of hours in the morning on company business? Was it really not enough to let one of the trainees make enquiries—assuming enquiries were even necessary—did the chief clerk have to come himself, and did they have…

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Excerpt #12, from Desert Dust, by Edwin L. Sabin

…know, at each terminus, booms as long as the freight and passengers pile up–and all of a sudden the go-ahead business and professional men pull stakes for the next terminus as soon as located. That has been the custom, all the way from North Platte to Benton." “Which accounts for your acquaintance along the line. The trainmen seem to know you.” “Trainmen and others; oh, yes. It is to be expected. I have no objections to that. I am quite able to take care of myself, sir.” We were interrupted. A near-drunken rowdy (upon whom I had kept an uneasy corner of an eye) had been careening over the platform, a whiskey bottle protruding from the hip pocket of his sagging jeans, a large revolver dangling at his thigh, his slouch hat cocked rakishly upon his tousled head. His language was extremely offensive–he had an ugly mood on, but nobody interfered. The crowd stood aside–the natives laughing, the tourists like myself viewing him askance, and several Indians watching only gravely. He sighted us, and staggered in. “Howdy?” he uttered, with an oath. “Shay–hello, stranger. Have a smile. Take two, one for lady. Hic!” And he thrust his bottle at me. My Lady drew back. I civilly declined the “smile.” “Thank you. I do not drink.”…

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