Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:12

Excerpt #1, from An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, by David Hume

…or propriety, add anything to the effect, in order to render it more worthy of the cause. 108. Where, then, is the odiousness of that doctrine, which I teach in my school, or rather, which I examine in my gardens? Or what do you find in this whole question, wherein the security of good morals, or the peace and order of society, is in the least concerned? I deny a providence, you say, and supreme governor of the world, who guides the course of events, and punishes the vicious with infamy and disappointment, and rewards the virtuous with honour and success, in all their undertakings. But surely, I deny not the course itself of events, which lies open to every one’s inquiry and examination. I acknowledge, that, in the present order of things, virtue is attended with more peace of mind than vice, and meets with a more favourable reception from the world. I am sensible, that, according to the past experience of mankind, friendship is the chief joy of human life, and moderation the only source of tranquillity and happiness. I never balance between the virtuous and the vicious course of life; but am sensible, that, to a well-disposed mind, every advantage is on the side of the former. And what can you say more, allowing all your suppositions and reasonings? You tell me, indeed, that this disposition of things proceeds from intelligence and design. But whatever it proceeds from, the disposition…

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Excerpt #2, from Let’s Get Together, by Isaac Asimov

…will begin with an all-Science conference." “All-Science?” Breckenridge said, “We have listed every important scientist of every branch of natural science. They’ll all be at Cheyenne. There will be only one point on the agenda: How to advance robotics. The major specific sub-heading under that will be: How to develop a receiving device for the electromagnetic fields of the cerebral cortex that will be sufficiently delicate to distinguish between a protoplasmic human brain and a positronic humanoid brain.” Jeffreys said, “We had hoped you would be willing to be in charge of the conference.” “I was not consulted in this.” “Obviously time was short, sir. Do you agree to be in charge?” Lynn smiled briefly. It was a matter of responsibility again. The responsibility must be clearly that of Lynn of Robotics. He had the feeling it would be Breckenridge who would really be in charge. But what could he do? He said, “I agree.” * * * * * Breckenridge and Lynn returned together to Cheyenne, where that evening Laszlo listened with a sullen mistrust to Lynn’s description of coming…

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

…He saw the Southern Cross, pitched low above the sandy rim. . . . Yet Africa had no call for him. It left him without a thrill, an uninviting, undesirable land. It was Egypt that made the intimate and personal appeal, as of a deeply loved and half-familiar place. It seemed to gather him in against its mighty heart. He lay in some niche of comforting warm sand against the ancient mass that claimed him, tucked in by the wonder and the mystery, protected, even mothered. It was an oddly stimulated imagination that supplied the picture–and made him smile. He snuggled down deeper and deeper into this figurative warm bed of sand the ages had pre-ordained. He felt secure and sheltered–as though the wonder and the mystery veiled something that menaced joy in him, something that concealed a notion of attack. Almost there seemed a whisper in the wind, a watchful and unclosing eye behind the dazzling sunshine: ‘Surrender yourself to me, and I will care for you. I will protect you against . . . yourself. . . . Beware!’ This peculiar excitement in his blood was somehow precisely what he had expected; the wonder and the thrill were natural and right. He had known that Egypt would mesmerise his soul exactly in this way. He had, it seemed, anticipated both the exhilaration and the terror. He thought much about it all, and each time Egypt looked him in the face, he saw Lettice too. They were inseparably connected, as it were. He saw her brilliant…

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Excerpt #5, from The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, by Arthur Conan Doyle

…“This writing is of extraordinary interest,” said Holmes, who had been examining it with intense concentration. “These are much deeper waters than I had thought.” He sank his head upon his hands, while the Inspector smiled at the effect which his case had had upon the famous London specialist. “Your last remark,” said Holmes, presently, “as to the possibility of there being an understanding between the burglar and the servant, and this being a note of appointment from one to the other, is an ingenious and not entirely impossible supposition. But this writing opens up—” He sank his head into his hands again and remained for some minutes in the deepest thought. When he raised his face again, I was surprised to see that his cheek was tinged with colour, and his eyes as bright as before his illness. He sprang to his feet with all his old energy. “I’ll tell you what,” said he, “I should like to have a quiet little glance into the details of this case. There is something in it which fascinates me extremely. If you will permit me, Colonel, I will leave my friend Watson and you, and I will step round with the Inspector to test the truth of one or two little fancies of mine. I will be with you again in half an hour.”…

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Excerpt #6, from Curiosities of Human Nature, by Samuel G. Goodrich

…at Prague; but in reality I have written it principally to please myself and my friends." Ample justice has however at length been rendered to this great production; it is heard with enthusiasm in nearly all the principal cities of that quarter of the globe where music is cultivated as a science–from the frozen regions of Russia, to the foot of Mount Vesuvius. Its praise is not limited by the common attributes of good musical composition; it is placed in the higher rank of fine poetry; for not only are to be found in it exquisite melodies and profound harmonies, but the playful, the tender, the pathetic, the mysterious, the sublime, and the terrible, are to be distinctly traced in its various parts. The overture to this opera is generally esteemed Mozart’s best effort; yet it was only composed the night previous to the first representation, after the general rehearsal had taken place. About eleven o’clock in the evening, when retired to his apartment, he desired his wife to make him some punch, and to stay with him, in order to keep him awake. She accordingly began to tell him fairy tales, and odd stories, which made him laugh till the tears came. The punch, however, made him so drowsy, that he could go on only while his wife was talking, and dropped asleep as soon as she ceased. The efforts which he made to keep himself awake, the continual alternation of sleep and watching, so fatigued him, that…

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Excerpt #7, from The Coral Island: A Tale of the Pacific Ocean, by R. M. Ballantyne

…of little, active, busy creatures continuing the work of building up this living rampart. At another place, which was just a little too high for the waves to wash over it, the coral insects were all dead; for we found that they never did their work above water. They had faithfully completed the mighty work which their Creator had given them to do, and they were now all dead. Again, in other spots the ceaseless lashing of the sea had broken the dead coral in pieces, and cast it up in the form of sand. Here sea-birds had alighted, little pieces of sea-weed and stray bits of wood had been washed up, seeds of plants had been carried by the wind and a few lovely blades of bright green had already sprung up, which, when they died, would increase the size and fertility of these emeralds of Ocean. At other places these islets had grown apace, and were shaded by one or two cocoa-nut trees, which grew, literally, in the sand, and were constantly washed by the ocean spray; yet, as I have before remarked, their fruit was most refreshing and sweet to our taste. Again at this time Jack and I pondered the formation of the large coral islands. We could now understand how the low ones were formed, but the larger islands cost us much consideration, yet we could arrive at no certain conclusion on the subject. Having satisfied our curiosity and enjoyed ourselves during the whole day, in our little boat, we returned, somewhat wearied, and, withal,…

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Excerpt #8, from A System of Logic, Ratiocinative and Inductive, by John Stuart Mill

…probability that they are connected is not measured by the total number of instances in which they have been found together, but by the excess of that number above the number due to the absolutely frequency of A. If, for example, A exists always, and therefore co-exists with every thing, no number of instances of its co-existence with B would prove a connection; as in our example of the fixed stars. If A be a fact of such common occurrence that it may be presumed to be present in half of all the cases that occur, and therefore in half the cases in which B occurs, it is only the proportional excess above half that is to be reckoned as evidence toward proving a connection between A and B. In addition to the question, What is the number of coincidences which, on an average of a great multitude of trials, may be expected to arise from chance alone? there is also another question, namely, Of what extent of deviation from that average is the occurrence credible, from chance alone, in some number of instances smaller than that required for striking a fair average? It is not only to be considered what is the general result of the chances in the long run, but also what are the extreme limits of variation from the general result, which may occasionally be expected as the result of some smaller number of instances. The consideration of the latter question, and any consideration of the…

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Excerpt #9, from The Wonders of Life: A Popular Study of Biological Philosophy, by Ernst Haeckel

…practical interest. However, we find that certain general views have been maintained by specialists in bacteriology up to our own time which are in curious contrast with these brilliant results. The biologist who studies the systematic relations of the bacteria from the modern point of view of the theory of descent is bewildered at the extraordinary views as to the place of the bacteria in the plant-world (as segmentation-fungi), their relations to other classes of plants, and the formation of their species. When we carefully consider the morphological properties that are common to all true bacteria and compare them with other organisms, we are forced to the conclusion that I urged years ago in various writings: the bacteria are not real (nucleated) cells, but unnucleated cytodes of the rank of the monera; they are not real (tissue-forming) fungi, but simple protists; their nearest relatives are the chromacea. The individual organisms of the simplest kind, which bacteriologists call “bacteria-cells,” are not real nucleated cells. That is the clear negative result of a number of most careful investigations which have been made up to date with the object of finding a nucleus in the plasma-body of the bacteria. Among recent exact investigations we must especially note those of the botanist Reinke, of Kiel, who sought in vain to detect a nucleus in one of the largest and most…

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Excerpt #10, from Vision and Design, by Roger Fry

…results that would follow. One scarcely knows whether they would be worse if Bumble or the Academy were judge. We only know that under any such conditions none of the artists whose work has ultimately counted in the spiritual development of the race would have been allowed to practise the coveted profession. There is in truth, as Ruskin pointed out in his “Political Economy of Art,” a gross and wanton waste under the present system. We have thousands of artists who are only so by accident and by name, on the one hand, and certainly many–one cannot tell how many–who have the special gift but have never had the peculiar opportunities which are to-day necessary to allow it to expand and function. But there is, what in an odd way consoles us, a blind chance that the gift and the opportunity may coincide; that Shelley and Browning may have a competence, and Cézanne a farm-house he could retire to. Bureaucratic Socialism would, it seems, take away even this blind chance that mankind may benefit by its least appreciable, most elusive treasures, and would carefully organise the complete suppression of original creative power; would organise into a universal and all-embracing tyranny the already overweening and disastrous power of endowed official art. For we must face the fact that the average man has two qualities which would make the proper selection of the artist almost impossible. He has, first of…

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Excerpt #11, from You no longer count, by René Boylesve

…like you." “But they tell me that everything is changed.” “They are right, and you see it clearly because you are outside of Eden, which you had never left before. It is only that some of them accept the change quickly because they were prepared for it, and others because they are less sensitive than you.” “Then, if such a change exists, does that mean that I should cease to mourn my husband?” “No; but the day will come when you will mourn him more. Remember what I say: you will mourn him more. That is the way in which you will take your part in the change.” “More!” ejaculated Odette. “Is it possible? I do not understand you.” “I mean by ‘more’ another manner of mourning, which you will doubtless find more endurable. Let us not talk more about it now, but keep in mind what I have said.” She shrank more and more from society, till she could endure neither news nor the face of a friend. She caused herself to be denied at the door–forbade her maid to speak to her of the war, even to bring in the newspapers. She wished to hear nothing. Then Paris became odious to her because she could not keep herself sufficiently in retirement. Since she was not permitted to go and…

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Excerpt #12, from The Sign of the Four, by Arthur Conan Doyle

…shape and size it was not unlike a cigarette-case. Inside were half a dozen spines of dark wood, sharp at one end and rounded at the other, like that which had struck Bartholomew Sholto. “They are hellish things,” said he. “Look out that you don’t prick yourself. I’m delighted to have them, for the chances are that they are all he has. There is the less fear of you or me finding one in our skin before long. I would sooner face a Martini bullet, myself. Are you game for a six-mile trudge, Watson?” “Certainly,” I answered. “Your leg will stand it?” “Oh, yes.” “Here you are, doggy! Good old Toby! Smell it, Toby, smell it!” He pushed the creasote handkerchief under the dog’s nose, while the creature stood with its fluffy legs separated, and with a most comical cock to its head, like a connoisseur sniffing the bouquet of a famous vintage. Holmes then threw the handkerchief to a distance, fastened a stout cord to the mongrel’s collar, and led him to the foot of the water-barrel. The creature instantly broke into a succession of high, tremulous yelps, and, with his nose on the ground, and his tail in the air, pattered off upon the trail at a pace which strained his leash and kept us at the top of our speed….

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