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Daily Excerpts: My humble attempt at offering fresh, daily, bookstore-style browsing…
Below you’ll find twelve book excerpts selected at random, each day, from over 400 different hand-selected Project Gutenberg titles. This includes many of my personal favorites.
Excerpt #1, from The School for Scandal, by Richard Brinsley Sheridan
…Passion.– MARIA. Why will you distress me by renewing this subject– SURFACE. Ah! Maria! you would not treat me thus and oppose your guardian’s Sir Peter’s wishes–but that I see that my Profligate Brother is still a favour’d Rival. MARIA. Ungenerously urged–but whatever my sentiments of that unfortunate young man are, be assured I shall not feel more bound to give him up because his Distresses have sunk him so low as to deprive him of the regard even of a Brother. SURFACE. Nay but Maria do not leave me with a Frown–by all that’s honest, I swear—-Gad’s Life here’s Lady Teazle–you must not–no you shall–for tho’ I have the greatest Regard for Lady Teazle—- MARIA. Lady Teazle! SURFACE. Yet were Sir Peter to suspect—- [Enter LADY TEAZLE, and comes forward] LADY TEAZLE. What’s this, Pray–do you take her for me!–Child you are wanted in the next Room.–What’s all this, pray– SURFACE. O the most unlucky circumstance in Nature. Maria has somehow suspected the tender concern I have for your happiness, and threaten’d to acquaint Sir Peter with her suspicions–and I was just endeavouring to reason with her when you came….
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Excerpt #2, from Poems, by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, by Emily Dickinson
…At least, it solaces to know That there exists a gold, Although I prove it just in time Its distance to behold! It ’s far, far treasure to surmise, And estimate the pearl That slipped my simple fingers through While just a girl at school! IV. THE CONTRACT. I gave myself to him, And took himself for pay. The solemn contract of a life Was ratified this way. The wealth might disappoint, Myself a poorer prove Than this great purchaser suspect, The daily own of Love Depreciate the vision; But, till the merchant buy, Still fable, in the isles of spice,…
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Excerpt #3, from The Swedish Fairy Book, by Klara Stroebe, George Hood, and Frederick Herman Martens
…must rule the kingdom now in my stead, and I leave land and people in your care. But there is one thing you must promise me you will do: that you will guard the wild man securely so that he does not escape while I am away." The queen promised to do her best in all respects, and the king gave her the key to the cage. Thereupon he had his long galleys, his “sea-wolves,” push out from the shore, hoisted sail, and took his course far, far away to the other country. The king and queen had only one child, a prince who was still small; yet great in promise. Now when the king had gone, it chanced one day that the little fellow was wandering about the royal courtyard, and came to the wild man’s cage. And he began to play with an apple of gold he had. And while he was playing with it, it happened that suddenly the apple fell through the window in the wall of the cage. The wild man at once appeared and threw back the apple. This seemed a merry game to the little fellow: he threw the apple in again, and the wild man threw it out again, and thus they played for a long time. Yet for all the game had been so pleasant, it turned to sorrow in the end: for the wild man kept the apple of gold, and would not give it back again. And when all was of no avail, neither threats nor prayers, the little fellow at last began to weep. Then the wild man said: "Your father did ill to capture me, and you will never get your apple of…
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Excerpt #4, from The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
…I wonder," staring at her reflectively, “what Dickon would think of thee?” “He wouldn’t like me,” said Mary in her stiff, cold little way. “No one does.” Martha looked reflective again. “How does tha’ like thysel’?” she inquired, really quite as if she were curious to know. Mary hesitated a moment and thought it over. “Not at all–really,” she answered. “But I never thought of that before.” Martha grinned a little as if at some homely recollection. “Mother said that to me once,” she said. “She was at her wash-tub an’ I was in a bad temper an’ talkin’ ill of folk, an’ she turns round on me an’ says: ‘Tha’ young vixon, tha’! There tha’ stands sayin’ tha’ doesn’t like this one an’ tha’ doesn’t like that one. How does tha’ like thysel’?’ It made me laugh an’ it brought me to my senses in a minute.” She went away in high spirits as soon as she had given Mary her breakfast. She was going to walk five miles across the moor to the cottage, and she was going to help her mother with the washing and do the week’s baking and enjoy herself thoroughly. Mary felt lonelier than ever when she knew she was no longer in the…
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Excerpt #5, from Walden, and On The Duty Of Civil Disobedience, by Henry David Thoreau
…not want the world to be changed; but he answered with a chuckle of surprise in his Canadian accent, not knowing that the question had ever been entertained before, “No, I like it well enough.” It would have suggested many things to a philosopher to have dealings with him. To a stranger he appeared to know nothing of things in general; yet I sometimes saw in him a man whom I had not seen before, and I did not know whether he was as wise as Shakespeare or as simply ignorant as a child, whether to suspect him of a fine poetic consciousness or of stupidity. A townsman told me that when he met him sauntering through the village in his small close-fitting cap, and whistling to himself, he reminded him of a prince in disguise. His only books were an almanac and an arithmetic, in which last he was considerably expert. The former was a sort of cyclopædia to him, which he supposed to contain an abstract of human knowledge, as indeed it does to a considerable extent. I loved to sound him on the various reforms of the day, and he never failed to look at them in the most simple and practical light. He had never heard of such things before. Could he do without factories? I asked. He had worn the home-made Vermont gray, he said, and that was good. Could he dispense with tea and coffee? Did this country afford any beverage beside water? He had soaked hemlock leaves in water and drank it, and thought that was…
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Excerpt #6, from Dave Dashaway, Air Champion; Or, Wizard Work in the Clouds, by Roy Rockwood
…“Here! here!” shouted the astonished Hiram, “get off there. You’ll smash things.” “Start her up,” ordered the intruder, “do it quick, without a word, or—” The speaker must have known something about flying machines, for with a dexterous move he landed in the cockpit. As he did so, he completed his menacing words by holding a pistol close to the head of the startled Hiram Dobbs. ———————————————————————— CHAPTER XI A STRANGE RACE Dave, busying himself about the Ariel inside the hangar, had caught an echo of the shot outside the fence and the shouts accompanying it. There was generally considerable commotion about the grounds, however, and he paid no particular attention to these demonstrations. Even the sound of the exhaust of the Scout did not suggest anything out of the ordinary. It was only when a loud cry sounded directly beyond the open doors of the hangar, that the young airman was aroused. “Oh, Mr. Dashaway!” gasped out a startling voice—“come here! come, quick!” Dave looked up to discern Rohan, his newly employed watchman. The latter was limping towards the hangar. The light from the inside shone…
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Excerpt #7, from A Romance of Tompkins Square, by Thomas A. Janvier
…It was rather dashing to Gottlieb’s enthusiasm, however, that his assistant–thereby manifesting a shrewd worldly wisdom–declined immediately to impart his secret. He would make all the lebkuchen that was required, he said, but for the present he need not tell how it was made–possibly the Herr Brekel might not be satisfied with it, after all. But the Herr Brekel was satisfied with it, and so was all the neighborhood when the first batch of lebkuchen was baked and placed on sale. Indeed, as the fame of this delicious lebkuchen went abroad, the coming of the new baker was accepted by all Germans with discriminating palates as one of the most important events that ever had occurred on the East Side. The work of the young man who drove the bread-wagon was so greatly increased that he organized a strike, uniting in his own person the several functions of strikers, walking delegates, district assembly, and executive committee. And when the strike collapsed–that is to say, when the young man was discharged summarily–Gottlieb really did find it necessary to hire two new young men, and to buy an extra horse and wagon. Morally speaking, therefore (although the original young man, who remained out of employment for several weeks, and had a pretty hard time of it, did not think so), the strike was a complete success. As a matter of course no well-set-up, right-thinking young fellow of…
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Excerpt #8, from Meddler’s Moon, by George O. Smith
…insure the probability?" “I think I see,” said Joan with a twinge of doubt. “Well, all we have to do is to be darned sure that his own particular probability does not occur. Then he won’t occur, and all of this will not occur, and we–” “Look,” said Tony excitedly, “it may be grasping at straws, but it seems to me that anything that is as certain as your friend … your, ah, grandson … Hedgerly claims shouldn’t require a lot of outside aid.” Marie brightened, and then looked glum. “There’s one thing that we all forget,” she said unhappily. “We’re speaking of predestiny as though we were a bunch of people going through the lines of a play. That may or may not be so. Let’s face it, predestiny means that we may or may not know what our next move may be. We do not know, and there seems to be no way of finding out. Therefore whether or not our acts are all written need not take any of the fun out of life.” Tony faced her in surprise, “Just what are you advocating?” he demanded. She reached up and took his hand. “Tony, never doubt that I love you. Yet Peter is a nice fellow, and had I met him first I’m reasonably sure that we could have been happy together.”…
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Excerpt #9, from The Bacchae of Euripides, by Euripides
…Hill grass. Great uddered kine then hadst thou seen Bellowing in sword-like hands that cleave and tear, A live steer riven asunder, and the air Tossed with rent ribs or limbs of cloven tread, And flesh upon the branches, and a red Rain from the deep green pines. Yea, bulls of pride, Horns swift to rage, were fronted and aside Flung stumbling, by those multitudinous hands Dragged pitilessly. And swifter were the bands Of garbèd flesh and bone unbound withal Than on thy royal eyes the lids may fall. Then on like birds, by their own speed upborne, They swept toward the plains of waving corn That lie beside Asopus’ banks, and bring To Thebes the rich fruit of her harvesting. On Hysiae and Erythrae that lie nursed Amid Kithaeron’s bowering rocks, they burst Destroying, as a foeman’s army comes. They caught up little children from their homes, High on their shoulders, babes unheld, that swayed And laughed and fell not; all a wreck they made;…
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Excerpt #10, from The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, by Christopher Marlowe
…And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer;– Is’t not midnight?–come, Mephistophilis, Veni, veni, Mephistophile! Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. Now tell me[77] what says Lucifer, thy lord? MEPHIST. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives,[78] So he will buy my service with his soul. FAUSTUS. Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee. MEPHIST. But, Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly, And write a deed of gift with thine own blood; For that security craves great Lucifer. If thou deny it, I will back to hell. FAUSTUS. Stay, Mephistophilis, and tell me, what good will my soul do thy lord? MEPHIST. Enlarge his kingdom. FAUSTUS. Is that the reason why[79] he tempts us thus? MEPHIST. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.[80] FAUSTUS. Why,[81] have you any pain that torture[82] others! MEPHIST. As great as have the human souls of men. But, tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul? And I will be thy slave, and wait on thee,…
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Excerpt #11, from The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair
…the homage of a tear. Now and then a visitor wept, to be sure; but this slaughtering machine ran on, visitors or no visitors. It was like some horrible crime committed in a dungeon, all unseen and unheeded, buried out of sight and of memory. One could not stand and watch very long without becoming philosophical, without beginning to deal in symbols and similes, and to hear the hog squeal of the universe. Was it permitted to believe that there was nowhere upon the earth, or above the earth, a heaven for hogs, where they were requited for all this suffering? Each one of these hogs was a separate creature. Some were white hogs, some were black; some were brown, some were spotted; some were old, some young; some were long and lean, some were monstrous. And each of them had an individuality of his own, a will of his own, a hope and a heart’s desire; each was full of self-confidence, of self-importance, and a sense of dignity. And trusting and strong in faith he had gone about his business, the while a black shadow hung over him and a horrid Fate waited in his pathway. Now suddenly it had swooped upon him, and had seized him by the leg. Relentless, remorseless, it was; all his protests, his screams, were nothing to it—it did its cruel will with him, as if his wishes, his feelings, had simply no existence at all; it cut his throat and watched him gasp out his life. And now was one to believe that there was…
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Excerpt #12, from The Awakening, and Selected Short Stories, by Kate Chopin
…in the baby suggested the man. And that was he also in kilts, at the age of five, wearing long curls and holding a whip in his hand. It made Edna laugh, and she laughed, too, at the portrait in his first long trousers; while another interested her, taken when he left for college, looking thin, long-faced, with eyes full of fire, ambition and great intentions. But there was no recent picture, none which suggested the Robert who had gone away five days ago, leaving a void and wilderness behind him. “Oh, Robert stopped having his pictures taken when he had to pay for them himself! He found wiser use for his money, he says,” explained Madame Lebrun. She had a letter from him, written before he left New Orleans. Edna wished to see the letter, and Madame Lebrun told her to look for it either on the table or the dresser, or perhaps it was on the mantelpiece. The letter was on the bookshelf. It possessed the greatest interest and attraction for Edna; the envelope, its size and shape, the post-mark, the handwriting. She examined every detail of the outside before opening it. There were only a few lines, setting forth that he would leave the city that afternoon, that he had packed his trunk in good shape, that he was well, and sent her his love and begged to be affectionately remembered to all. There was no special message to Edna…
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