Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:45

Excerpt #1, from Moby Dick; Or, The Whale, by Herman Melville

…voyage—beyond both stormy Capes; a ship in which some thousands of his hard earned dollars were invested; a ship, in which an old shipmate sailed as captain; a man almost as old as he, once more starting to encounter all the terrors of the pitiless jaw; loath to say good-bye to a thing so every way brimful of every interest to him,—poor old Bildad lingered long; paced the deck with anxious strides; ran down into the cabin to speak another farewell word there; again came on deck, and looked to windward; looked towards the wide and endless waters, only bounded by the far-off unseen Eastern Continents; looked towards the land; looked aloft; looked right and left; looked everywhere and nowhere; and at last, mechanically coiling a rope upon its pin, convulsively grasped stout Peleg by the hand, and holding up a lantern, for a moment stood gazing heroically in his face, as much as to say, “Nevertheless, friend Peleg, I can stand it; yes, I can.” As for Peleg himself, he took it more like a philosopher; but for all his philosophy, there was a tear twinkling in his eye, when the lantern came too near. And he, too, did not a little run from cabin to deck—now a word below, and now a word with Starbuck, the chief mate. But, at last, he turned to his comrade, with a final sort of look about him,—“Captain Bildad—come, old shipmate, we must go. Back the main-yard there! Boat ahoy! Stand by to come close alongside, now! Careful,…

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Excerpt #2, from The Bacchae of Euripides, by Euripides

…To his own flesh, and bespake him: “Enter now life’s second portal, Motherless Mystery; lo, I break Mine own body for thy sake, Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee Mine, O Bromios,”–thus he spake– “And to this thy land reveal thee.” All. Still my prayer toward thee quivers, Dircê, still to thee I hie me; Why, O Blessèd among Rivers, Wilt thou fly me and deny me? By His own joy I vow, By the grape upon the bough, Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love Him, even now! Other Maidens. Dark and of the dark impassioned Is this Pentheus’ blood; yea, fashioned Of the Dragon, and his birth From Echîon, child of Earth….

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Excerpt #3, from My Man Jeeves, by P. G. Wodehouse

…“It—it sorts of leers at you, doesn’t it?” “You’ve noticed that, too?” said Corky. “I don’t see how one could help noticing.” “All I tried to do was to give the little brute a cheerful expression. But, as it worked out, he looks positively dissipated.” “Just what I was going to suggest, old man. He looks as if he were in the middle of a colossal spree, and enjoying every minute of it. Don’t you think so, Jeeves?” “He has a decidedly inebriated air, sir.” Corky was starting to say something when the door opened, and the uncle came in. For about three seconds all was joy, jollity, and goodwill. The old boy shook hands with me, slapped Corky on the back, said that he didn’t think he had ever seen such a fine day, and whacked his leg with his stick. Jeeves had projected himself into the background, and he didn’t notice him. “Well, Bruce, my boy; so the portrait is really finished, is it—really finished? Well, bring it out. Let’s have a look at it. This will be a wonderful surprise for your aunt. Where is it? Let’s——” And then he got it—suddenly, when he wasn’t set for the punch; and he rocked back on his heels….

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Excerpt #4, from Masters of the vortex, by E. E. Smith

…and so on. . . . The gangsters thought that they were being very smart and cagey in using numbers instead of names, but neither had any idea of the power of a really good telepathic mind, or of that of a really good linguist. Each of those numbers meant something to either or to both of those men, and whatever it was—a name, a picture, a storefront or address, or a fleeting glimpse of personality pattern—Nadine seized and transmitted, either in shorthand or by force of mind, or both; and Vesta taped, in machine-gun-fast Spanish, every written word and every nuance of thought. The list was long. At its end: “Three more didn’t pay up, huh? The same ones holding out as last time, and three more besides, huh?” This was Number One, thinking deeply. “I don’t like it. . . . Ninety Two, huh? I don’t like it a bit—or him, either. I’ll have to do something about him.” “Yeah. Ninety Two. The others all give the same old tear-jerker that they didn’t have it, that our assessments were too stiff for their take, and so on, but Ninety Two didn’t, this time. He simply blew his top. He was hotter than the business end of a blow-torch.” Not much to Cloud’s surprise, Nadine at this point poured into his mind the picture of excessively angry Jim. “Not only he didn’t fork over, he told me to tell…

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Excerpt #5, from The Problems of Philosophy, by Bertrand Russell

…Hence we are driven back to correspondence with fact as constituting the nature of truth. It remains to define precisely what we mean by ‘fact’, and what is the nature of the correspondence which must subsist between belief and fact, in order that belief may be true. In accordance with our three requisites, we have to seek a theory of truth which (1) allows truth to have an opposite, namely falsehood, (2) makes truth a property of beliefs, but (3) makes it a property wholly dependent upon the relation of the beliefs to outside things. The necessity of allowing for falsehood makes it impossible to regard belief as a relation of the mind to a single object, which could be said to be what is believed. If belief were so regarded, we should find that, like acquaintance, it would not admit of the opposition of truth and falsehood, but would have to be always true. This may be made clear by examples. Othello believes falsely that Desdemona loves Cassio. We cannot say that this belief consists in a relation to a single object, ‘Desdemona’s love for Cassio’, for if there were such an object, the belief would be true. There is in fact no such object, and therefore Othello cannot have any relation to such an object. Hence his belief cannot possibly consist in a relation to this object. It might be said that his belief is a relation to a different object, namely ‘that Desdemona loves Cassio’; but it is almost as difficult to…

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Excerpt #6, from Hard Times, by Charles Dickens

…enthusiasm: ‘and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you’ll believe me, she hasn’t come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!’ said the old woman to Stephen, ‘you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!’ Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. ‘Well, missus,’ said he, ‘I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi’ fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on.’ ‘Young and handsome. Yes!’ cried the old woman, quite delighted. ‘As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!’ ‘Aye, missus, I suppose she be,’ said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. ‘Suppose she be? She must be. She’s your master’s wife,’ returned the old woman….

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Excerpt #7, from The Three Musketeers, by Alexandre Dumas

…The four Musketeers went to work; and as they were loading the last musket Grimaud announced that the breakfast was ready. Athos replied, always by gestures, that that was well, and indicated to Grimaud, by pointing to a turret that resembled a pepper caster, that he was to stand as sentinel. Only, to alleviate the tediousness of the duty, Athos allowed him to take a loaf, two cutlets, and a bottle of wine. “And now to table,” said Athos. The four friends seated themselves on the ground with their legs crossed like Turks, or even tailors. “And now,” said D’Artagnan, “as there is no longer any fear of being overheard, I hope you are going to let me into your secret.” “I hope at the same time to procure you amusement and glory, gentlemen,” said Athos. “I have induced you to take a charming promenade; here is a delicious breakfast; and yonder are five hundred persons, as you may see through the loopholes, taking us for heroes or madmen—two classes of imbeciles greatly resembling each other.” “But the secret!” said D’Artagnan. “The secret is,” said Athos, “that I saw Milady last night.” D’Artagnan was lifting a glass to his lips; but at the name of Milady, his hand trembled so, that he was obliged to put the glass on the…

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Excerpt #8, from Lakeland Words, by Bryham Kirkby

…CLARTY—Stickey. Yan o’ t’ finest preachers in a’ America was yance writin’ aboot a famous puddin’, an’ he sed it was “clarty.” An ther’s clarty tricks, an’ clarty fooak, an’ clarty looanens, an’ clarty trods.—See Ruskin’s “Fors Clavigera,” vol. 2, page 203. CLASH—Ther’s wake tea; rain; gossip; a yat er a door shot wi’ a bang; an’ a rattle on t’ side o’ t’ heed; these is o co’ed clash betimes, as weel as thin poor yal. CLASH-BAGS—A gurt gossipin’ clash-bags is a body ’at tells mair than they know aboot other fooak. CLASH’D-LIUKEN—Yan o’ t’ world’s failures ats doon on his luck. CLASHY—Rainy, stormy. It’s clashy weather aboot Brough Hill time varra oft. CLAW, CLAWK’T, CLAWKEN—Ta scrat when ye’re feitin asteed o’ strikin’ wi’ yer double nief. CLEAN-HEELS—Lads ’at’s been amang t’ pes, er i’ somebody’s wotchet, an’ er catcht ’ll show ye some clean heels as they gang ower t’ dykes. CLEG—A gad-fly, but git yan i’ yer neck whol on a het day, an’ let it git agiat sooken, an’ than common cleg’s fine eniuf. CLEW—A clew o’ yarn. It’s when ye’ve wund it ready fer knittin. “Give it a corner and the clew undoes,” says George Herbert. CLICK—Snatch. Click hod ov his coat laps….

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Excerpt #9, from The Pursuit of the House Boat, by John Kendrick Bangs

…“That piracy on the sea is not profitable in these days of the check banking system,” said Kidd. “If you can get a chance at real gold it’s all right, but it’s of no earthly use to steal checks that people can stop payment on. Therefore it was my plan to visit the cities and do a little freebooting there, where solid material wealth is to be found.” “Well? Can’t we do it now?” asked Abeuchapeta. “Not with these women tagging after us,” returned Kidd. “If we went to London and lifted the whole Bank of England, these women would have it spent on Regent Street inside of twenty-four hours.” “Then leave them on board,” said Abeuchapeta. “And have them steal the ship!” retorted Kidd. “No. There are but two things to do. Take ’em back, or land them in Paris. Tell them to spend a week on shore while we are provisioning. Tell ’em to shop to their hearts’ content, and while they are doing it we can sneak off and leave them stranded.” “Splendid!” cried Morgan. “But will they consent?” asked Abeuchapeta. “Consent! To shop? In Paris? For a week?” cried Morgan. “Ha, ha!” laughed Hawkins. “Will they consent! Will a duck swim?” And so it was decided, which was the first incident in the career of the House-boat upon which the astute Mr. Sherlock Holmes had failed to count….

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Excerpt #10, from The Book of Hallowe’en, by Ruth Edna Kelley

…Dinnsenchus of Mag Slecht (Meyer trans.). This was direct invocation, but the fire rites which were continued so long afterwards were really only worshipping the sun by proxy, in his nearest likeness, fire. Samhain was then a day sacred to the death of the sun, on which had been paid a sacrifice of death to evil powers. Though overcome at Moytura evil was ascendant at Samhain. Methods of finding out the will of spirits and the future naturally worked better then, charms and invocations had more power, for the spirits were near to help, if care was taken not to anger them, and due honors paid. CHAPTER IV POMONA Ops was the Latin goddess of plenty. Single parts of her province were taken over by various other divinities, among whom was Pomona (pomorum patrona, “she who cares for fruits”). She is represented as a maiden with fruit in her arms and a pruning-knife in her hand. “I am the ancient apple-queen. As once I was so am I now– For evermore a hope unseen Betwixt the blossom and the bough.”Ah, where’s the river’s hidden gold!…

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Excerpt #11, from James Nasmyth, Engineer: An Autobiography, by James Nasmyth

…machine was so gratifying to the Society that they requested me to construct one of such power as to enable four or six persons to be conveyed along the ordinary roads. The members of the Society, in their individual capacity, subscribed #60, which they placed in my hands as the means for carrying out their project. I accordingly set to work at once. I had the heavy parts of the engine and carriage done at Anderson’s foundry at Leith. There was in Anderson’s employment a most able general mechanic named Robert Maclaughlan, who had served his time at Carmichaels’ of Dundee. Anderson possessed some excellent tools, which enabled me to proceed rapidly with the work. Besides, he was most friendly, and took much delight in being concerned in my enterprise. This “big job” was executed in about four months. The steam-carriage was completed and exhibited before the members of the Society of Arts. Many successful trials were made with it on the queensferry Road, near Edinburgh. The runs were generally of four or five miles, with a load of eight passengers sitting on benches about three feet from the ground. The experiments were continued for nearly three months, to the great satisfaction of the members. I may mention that in my steam-carriage I employed the waste steam to create a blast or draught by discharging it into the short chimney of the boiler at its lowest part, and found…

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Excerpt #12, from The Sea

…ARKADINA. You don’t understand. DORN. There is nothing to understand in this case; it is quite clear. MEDVIEDENKO. He ought to give up smoking. SORIN. What nonsense! [A pause.] DORN. No, that is not nonsense. Wine and tobacco destroy the individuality. After a cigar or a glass of vodka you are no longer Peter Sorin, but Peter Sorin plus somebody else. Your ego breaks in two: you begin to think of yourself in the third person. SORIN. It is easy for you to condemn smoking and drinking; you have known what life is, but what about me? I have served in the Department of Justice for twenty-eight years, but I have never lived, I have never had any experiences. You are satiated with life, and that is why you have an inclination for philosophy, but I want to live, and that is why I drink my wine for dinner and smoke cigars, and all. DORN. One must take life seriously, and to take a cure at sixty-five and regret that one did not have more pleasure in youth is, forgive my saying so, trifling. MASHA. It must be lunch-time. [She walks away languidly, with a dragging step] My foot has gone to sleep. DORN. She is going to have a couple of drinks before lunch. SORIN. The poor soul is unhappy….

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