Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:30

Excerpt #1, from History of biology, by L. C. Miall

…a crowd. The cells of the honeycomb are hexagonal, not by reason of forethought or contrivance, but because of mutual pressure; soaked peas in a confined space form hexagonal surfaces wherever they touch. The elder Huber seems to have denied to bees every trace of intelligence, but his son Pierre found it hard to go so far.[27] He remarked that the storage-cells of a honeycomb are not always exactly alike; they may be lengthened, cut down, or curved, when requisite. Cells which had been rudely trimmed with a knife were repaired with such dexterity and concert as to suggest that even the hive-bee has “le droit de penser.” Bees would under compulsion build upwards or sideways, instead of downwards, as they like to do. Finding that they sought to extend their combs in the direction of the nearest support, he covered the support with a sheet of glass, on which they could get no footing. They swerved at once from the straight line, and prolonged their comb towards the nearest uncovered surface, though this obliged them to distort their cells. He was driven to the conclusion that bees possess “a little dose of judgment or reason.” In our own time, when all conscious adaptation of means to ends is believed to be worthy of the name of reason, it requires no great courage to ask why we deny such an attribute to all the lower animals. In spite of examples like this, the favourite expression "blind…

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Excerpt #2, from The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

…degrees Kolya began to get breathless again. “Latin and Greek were introduced because they are a bore and because they stupefy the intellect. It was dull before, so what could they do to make things duller? It was senseless enough before, so what could they do to make it more senseless? So they thought of Greek and Latin. That’s my opinion, I hope I shall never change it,” Kolya finished abruptly. His cheeks were flushed. “That’s true,” assented Smurov suddenly, in a ringing tone of conviction. He had listened attentively. “And yet he is first in Latin himself,” cried one of the group of boys suddenly. “Yes, father, he says that and yet he is first in Latin,” echoed Ilusha. “What of it?” Kolya thought fit to defend himself, though the praise was very sweet to him. “I am fagging away at Latin because I have to, because I promised my mother to pass my examination, and I think that whatever you do, it’s worth doing it well. But in my soul I have a profound contempt for the classics and all that fraud…. You don’t agree, Karamazov?” “Why ‘fraud’?” Alyosha smiled again. “Well, all the classical authors have been translated into all…

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Excerpt #3, from Modern Essays, by Harry Morgan Ayres et al.

…I wish we could encourage on this continent among our best students the habit of wandering. I do not know that we are quite prepared for it, as there is still great diversity in the curricula, even among the leading schools, but it is undoubtedly a great advantage to study under different teachers, as the mental horizon is widened and the sympathies enlarged. The practice would do much to lessen that narrow “I am of Paul and I am of Apollos” spirit which is hostile to the best interests of the profession. There is much that I would like to say on the question of work, but I can spare only a few moments for a word or two. Who will venture to settle upon so simple a matter as the best time for work? One will tell us there is no best time; all are equally good; and truly, all times are the same to a man whose soul is absorbed in some great problem. The other day I asked Edward Martin, the well-known story-writer, what time he found best for work. “Not in the evening, and never between meals!” was his answer, which may appeal to some of my hearers. One works best at night; another, in the morning; a majority of the students of the past favor the latter. Erasmus, the great exemplar, says, “Never work at night; it dulls the brain and hurts the health.” One day, going with George Ross through Bedlam, Dr. Savage, at that time the physician in charge, remarked upon two great groups of patients–those who were…

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Excerpt #4, from Einstein and the universe: A popular exposition of the famous theory, by Nordmann

…a sort of Relativity in the second degree, of which neither the philosophers nor the classic physicists had dreamed. Spatial relations themselves are relative, in a space which is already relative. In the case of our Pullman car and the two pegs which mark its length when it is stationary, an observer situated in the carriage would find the distance between the two pegs shortened as he passes them. The coach would seem to him longer than the distance between the pegs. I who remain beside the pegs observe the contrary. Yet I have no means of proving to the passenger that he is wrong. I see quite plainly that the ray of light which comes from the back peg runs behind the coach, and has therefore, relatively to it, a speed of less than 186,000 miles a second. I know that this is the reason for the passenger’s error, but I have no means of convincing him that he is wrong. He will always say, and rightly: “I have measured the speed at which this ray reaches me, and I have found it 186,000 miles a second.” Each of us is really right. In very rapid motion a square would seem to the observer a rectangle; a circle would appear to be an ellipse. If the earth travelled some thousands of times faster round the sun, we should see it elongated, like a giant lemon suspended in the heavens. If an aviator could fly at a fantastic speed over Trafalgar Square, in the direction of the…

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Excerpt #5, from My Man Jeeves, by P. G. Wodehouse

…“I am amazed! What is the nature of my nephew’s business, Mr. Wooster?” “Oh, just business, don’t you know. The same sort of thing Carnegie and Rockefeller and all these coves do, you know.” I slid for the door. “Awfully sorry to leave you, but I’ve got to meet some of the lads elsewhere.” Coming out of the lift I met Bicky bustling in from the street. “Halloa, Bertie! I missed him. Has he turned up?” “He’s upstairs now, having some tea.” “What does he think of it all?” “He’s absolutely rattled.” “Ripping! I’ll be toddling up, then. Toodle-oo, Bertie, old man. See you later.” “Pip-pip, Bicky, dear boy.” He trotted off, full of merriment and good cheer, and I went off to the club to sit in the window and watch the traffic coming up one way and going down the other. It was latish in the evening when I looked in at the flat to dress for dinner. “Where’s everybody, Jeeves?” I said, finding no little feet pattering about the place. “Gone out?” “His grace desired to see some of the sights of the city, sir. Mr….

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Excerpt #6, from The Knights of the Round Table: Stories of King Arthur and the Holy Grail, by Frost

…“I suppose I ought to tell you just here that King Arthur himself could not fight for the Queen in such a case as this, because he had to sit and be the judge in all such fights. And Arthur always did justice to rich and poor and to great and small alike, and he would do the same justice, or he would try to, to the one whom he loved best of all the world as to the meanest man or woman who could be brought before him.”When the rest were ready to go back to Westminster they were surprised, of course, that Lancelot was not with them. But they did not think that it was so very strange, for Lancelot often went away suddenly in search of adventures and told nobody that he was going. So they went back and told the King that Meliagraunce had charged the Queen with treason and that Lancelot was to defend her. And the King was not alarmed at all, for he knew that the Queen could not be guilty of such a thing, and he felt sure that Lancelot would be at hand when the time came to prove it. "But the King felt more sure of Lancelot than Lancelot felt of himself, for all that week he was in prison. And on the eighth day Meliagraunce came to Westminster ready for the fight and called upon the King to give judgment against the Queen, because Lancelot was not there to defend her. Then Arthur said that he was sure that Lancelot must be dead or sick or else in prison, for he never failed to keep his promise before, and he asked if there was any other knight who would fight in his place…

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Excerpt #7, from Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official, by William Sleeman

…that language was given to man for the better concealment of his thoughts, they at least seem to regard in what they say, not its resemblance to the tact in question, but rather its subserviency to the purpose in view.’ (Brougham’s George IV.) ‘Yet, let it never be forgotten, that princes are nurtured in falsehood by the atmosphere of lies which envelops their palace; steeled against natural sympathies by the selfish natures of all that surround them; hardened in cruelty, partly indeed by the fears incident to their position, but partly too by the unfeeling creatures, the factions, the unnatural productions of a court whom alone they deal with; trained for tyrants by the prostration which they find in all the minds which they come in contact with; encouraged to domineer by the unresisting medium through which all their steps to power and its abuse are made.’ (Brougham’s Carnot.) But Lord Brougham is too harsh. Johnson has observed truly enough, ‘Honesty is not necessarily greater where elegance is less’; nor does a sense of supreme or despotic power necessarily imply the exercise or abuse of it. Princes have, happily, the same yearning as the peasant after the respect and affection of the circle around them, and the people under them; and they must generally seek it by the same means….

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Excerpt #8, from An Ideal Husband, by Oscar Wilde

…LORD GORING. [After a long pause.] Nobody is incapable of doing a foolish thing. Nobody is incapable of doing a wrong thing. LADY CHILTERN. Are you a Pessimist? What will the other dandies say? They will all have to go into mourning. LORD GORING. [Rising.] No, Lady Chiltern, I am not a Pessimist. Indeed I am not sure that I quite know what Pessimism really means. All I do know is that life cannot be understood without much charity, cannot be lived without much charity. It is love, and not German philosophy, that is the true explanation of this world, whatever may be the explanation of the next. And if you are ever in trouble, Lady Chiltern, trust me absolutely, and I will help you in every way I can. If you ever want me, come to me for my assistance, and you shall have it. Come at once to me. LADY CHILTERN. [Looking at him in surprise.] Lord Goring, you are talking quite seriously. I don’t think I ever heard you talk seriously before. LORD GORING. [Laughing.] You must excuse me, Lady Chiltern. It won’t occur again, if I can help it. LADY CHILTERN. But I like you to be serious. [Enter MABEL CHILTERN, in the most ravishing frock.] MABEL CHILTERN. Dear Gertrude, don’t say such a dreadful thing to Lord…

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Excerpt #9, from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, by William Shakespeare

…PEASEBLOSSOM. Ready. COBWEB. And I. MOTH. And I. MUSTARDSEED. And I. ALL. Where shall we go? TITANIA. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers, crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glow-worm’s eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes….

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Excerpt #10, from Hawaiian Folk Tales, by Thomas G. Thrum

…to his home at Puuloa was like the flight of a bird. The spoils and trophies of this battle he disposed of as before. The two young women, Kalelealuaka’s wives, turned the nozzle of the water-gourd downward, as they were bidden, and continued to press it into the water, in the vain hope that it might rise and fill their container, until the noonday sun began to pour his rays directly upon their heads; but no water entered their calabash. Then the younger sister proposed to the elder to fill the calabash in the usual way, saying that Kalelealuaka would not know the difference. This they did, and returned home. Kalelealuaka would not drink of the water, declaring that it had been dipped up. At this the younger wife laughed furtively; the elder broke forth and said: “It is due to the slowness of the way you told us to employ in getting the water. We are not accustomed to the menial office of fetching water; our father treated us delicately, and a man always fetched water for us, and we always used to see him pour the water into the gourd with the nozzle turned up, but you trickily ordered us to turn the nozzle down. Your exactions are heartless.” Thus the women kept complaining until, by and by, the tramp of the returning soldiers was heard, who were boasting of the great deeds of Keinohoomanawanui. The King, however, said: "I do not believe a word of…

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Excerpt #11, from Mr. Munchausen , by John Kendrick Bangs

…the Baron in accidents of many sorts. They conjured up visions of him lying wounded beneath the ruins of an apartment house, or something else equally heavy that might have fallen upon him on his way from his rooms to the station, but that he was more than wounded they did not believe, for they knew that the Baron was not the sort of man to be killed by anything killing under the sun. “I wonder where he can be?” said Angelica, uneasily to her brother, who was waiting with equal anxiety for their common friend. “Oh, he’s all right!” said Diavolo, with a confidence he did not really feel. “He’ll turn up all right, and even if he’s two hours late he’ll be here on time according to his own watch. Just you wait and see.” And they did wait and they did see. They waited for ten minutes, when the Baron drove up, smiling as ever, but apparently a little out of breath. I should not dare to say that he was really out of breath, but he certainly did seem to be so, for he panted visibly, and for two or three minutes after his arrival was quite unable to ask the Imps the usual question as to their very good health. Finally, however, the customary courtesies of the greeting were exchanged, and the decks were cleared for action. “What kept you, Uncle Munch?” asked the Twins, as they took up their…

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Excerpt #12, from Not that it Matters, by A. A. Milne

…I should like to believe in astrology, but I cannot. I should like to believe that the heavenly bodies sort themselves into certain positions in order that Zadkiel may be kept in touch with the future; the idea of a star whizzing a million miles out of its path by way of indicating a “sensational divorce case in high life” is extraordinarily massive. But, candidly, I do not believe the stars bother. What the stars are for, what they are like when you get there, I do not know; but a starry night would not be so beautiful if it were simply meant as a warning to some unpleasant financier that Kaffirs were going up. The ordinary man looks at the heavens and thinks what an insignificant atom he is beneath them; the believer in astrology looks up and realizes afresh his overwhelming importance. Perhaps, after all, I am glad I do not believe. Life must be a very tricky thing for the superstitious. At dinner a night or two ago I happened to say that I had never been in danger of drowning. I am not sure now that it was true, but I still think that it was harmless. However, before I had time to elaborate my theme (whatever it was) I was peremptorily ordered to touch wood. I protested that both my feet were on the polished oak and both my elbows on the polished mahogany (one always knew…

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