Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:54

Excerpt #1, from Legends That Every Child Should Know; a Selection of the Great Legends of All Times

…1640, two citizens, living in the Gerberstrasse, in Brussels, were walking in the Sonian wood, when they encountered an aged man, whose clothes were in tatters and of an antiquated appearance. They invited him to go with them to a house of refreshment, and he went with them, but would not seat himself, remaining on foot to drink. When he came before the doors with the two burgers, he told them a great deal; but they were mostly stories of events which had happened many hundred years before. Hence the burgers gathered that their companion was Isaac Laquedem, the Jew who had refused to permit our Blessed Lord to rest for a moment at his door-step, and they left him full of terror. In 1642 he is reported to have visited Leipzig. On the 22d July, 1721, he appeared at the gates of the city of Munich. About the end of the seventeenth century or the beginning of the eighteenth, an impostor, calling himself the Wandering Jew, attracted attention in England, and was listened to by the ignorant, and despised by the educated. He, however, managed to thrust himself into the notice of the nobility, who, half in jest, half in curiosity, questioned him, and paid him as they might a juggler. He declared that he had been an officer of the Sanhedrim, and that he had struck Christ as he left the judgment hall of Pilate. He remembered all the Apostles, and described their personal appearance, their clothes, and their peculiarities. He spoke many languages, claimed the power of…

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

…could the humanoids pass our security provisions? How could they get together?" “But they are getting together! We’re helping them to do so. We’re ordering them to do so. Our scientists visit the other side, Breckenridge. They visit Them regularly. You made a point of how strange it was that no one in robotics did. Well, ten of those scientists are still there and in their place, ten humanoids are converging on Cheyenne.” “That’s a ridiculous guess.” “I think it’s a good one, Breckenridge. But it wouldn’t work unless we knew humanoids were in America so that we would call the conference in the first place. Quite a coincidence that you brought the news of the humanoids and suggested the conference and suggested the agenda and are running the show and know exactly which scientists were invited. Did you make sure the right ten were included?” “Dr. Lynn!” cried Breckenridge in outrage. He poised to rush forward. Lynn said, "Don’t move. I’ve got a blaster here. We’ll just wait for the scientists to get here one by one. One by one we’ll X-ray them. One by one, we’ll monitor them for radioactivity. No two will get together without being checked, and if all five hundred are clear, I’ll give you my blaster and surrender to you. Only I think we’ll find the ten…

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Excerpt #3, from The Story of the Barbary Corsairs, by J. D. Jerrold Kelley and Stanley Lane

…that the Dey had no occasion for him, and he might go–as if he were the Dey’s servant. “Dear friend of this our kingdom,” wrote that potentate to H. M. George III. of England, “I gave him my orders,–and he was insolent!” Mr. Fraser went, but was sent back to be reinstated by a squadron of His Majesty’s ships. Admiral Sir Peter Denis sailed into Algiers Bay, and having ascertained that the Dey would not consent to receive Mr. Fraser again, sailed out again. His Majesty’s Government expressed themselves as completely satisfied with the admiral’s action, and resolved to leave the Dey to his reflections. Finally, in the very next year, King George accepts his friend of Algiers’ excuses, and appoints a new consul, specially charged “to conduct himself in a manner agreeable to you.” The nation paid a pension of £600 a year to Mr. Fraser as indemnity for its Government’s poltroonery. Every fresh instance of submission naturally swelled the overweening insolence of the Deys. A consul had a Maltese cook: the Dey objected to the Maltese, and took the man by force from the consul’s house and sent him away in irons. If the consul objected, he might go too. When Captain Hope, of H.M.S. Romulus, arrived at Algiers, he received no salute; the consul was ordered to go aboard, leaving his very linen behind him; and frigate and consul were ordered out of the harbour….

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Excerpt #4, from Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare

…But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and ’tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace. PARIS. Of honourable reckoning are you both, And pity ’tis you liv’d at odds so long. But now my lord, what say you to my suit? CAPULET. But saying o’er what I have said before. My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. PARIS. Younger than she are happy mothers made. CAPULET. And too soon marr’d are those so early made. The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, She is the hopeful lady of my earth: But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent is but a part;…

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Excerpt #5, from Walden, and On The Duty Of Civil Disobedience, by Henry David Thoreau

…become a farmer; and he who stood under a tree for shelter, a housekeeper. We now no longer camp as for a night, but have settled down on earth and forgotten heaven. We have adopted Christianity merely as an improved method of agri-culture. We have built for this world a family mansion, and for the next a family tomb. The best works of art are the expression of man’s struggle to free himself from this condition, but the effect of our art is merely to make this low state comfortable and that higher state to be forgotten. There is actually no place in this village for a work of fine art, if any had come down to us, to stand, for our lives, our houses and streets, furnish no proper pedestal for it. There is not a nail to hang a picture on, nor a shelf to receive the bust of a hero or a saint. When I consider how our houses are built and paid for, or not paid for, and their internal economy managed and sustained, I wonder that the floor does not give way under the visitor while he is admiring the gewgaws upon the mantel-piece, and let him through into the cellar, to some solid and honest though earthy foundation. I cannot but perceive that this so called rich and refined life is a thing jumped at, and I do not get on in the enjoyment of the fine arts which adorn it, my attention being wholly occupied with the jump; for I remember that the greatest genuine leap, due to human muscles alone, on record, is that of certain…

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Excerpt #6, from The Awakening, and Selected Short Stories, by Kate Chopin

…and air that there was came through them. From her windows could be seen the crescent of the river, the masts of ships and the big chimneys of the Mississippi steamers. A magnificent piano crowded the apartment. In the next room she slept, and in the third and last she harbored a gasoline stove on which she cooked her meals when disinclined to descend to the neighboring restaurant. It was there also that she ate, keeping her belongings in a rare old buffet, dingy and battered from a hundred years of use. When Edna knocked at Mademoiselle Reisz’s front room door and entered, she discovered that person standing beside the window, engaged in mending or patching an old prunella gaiter. The little musician laughed all over when she saw Edna. Her laugh consisted of a contortion of the face and all the muscles of the body. She seemed strikingly homely, standing there in the afternoon light. She still wore the shabby lace and the artificial bunch of violets on the side of her head. “So you remembered me at last,” said Mademoiselle. “I had said to myself, ‘Ah, bah! she will never come.’” “Did you want me to come?” asked Edna with a smile. “I had not thought much about it,” answered Mademoiselle. The two had seated themselves on a little bumpy sofa which stood against the wall. “I am glad, however, that you came. I have the water boiling back…

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Excerpt #7, from Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka

…took two steps forward towards Gregor and sank down onto the floor into her skirts that spread themselves out around her as her head disappeared down onto her breast. His father looked hostile, and clenched his fists as if wanting to knock Gregor back into his room. Then he looked uncertainly round the living room, covered his eyes with his hands and wept so that his powerful chest shook. So Gregor did not go into the room, but leant against the inside of the other door which was still held bolted in place. In this way only half of his body could be seen, along with his head above it which he leant over to one side as he peered out at the others. Meanwhile the day had become much lighter; part of the endless, grey-black building on the other side of the street—which was a hospital—could be seen quite clearly with the austere and regular line of windows piercing its façade; the rain was still falling, now throwing down large, individual droplets which hit the ground one at a time. The washing up from breakfast lay on the table; there was so much of it because, for Gregor’s father, breakfast was the most important meal of the day and he would stretch it out for several hours as he sat reading a number of different newspapers. On the wall exactly opposite there was photograph of Gregor when he was a lieutenant in the army, his sword in his hand and a carefree smile on his face as he called forth respect for his…

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Excerpt #8, from Psmith, Journalist, by P. G. Wodehouse

…“For thirty days,” sighed Psmith. “What Cosy Moments really needs is a sitz-redacteur.” “A what?” “A sitz-redacteur, Comrade Windsor, is a gentleman employed by German newspapers with a taste for lèse majesté to go to prison whenever required in place of the real editor. The real editor hints in his bright and snappy editorial, for instance, that the Kaiser’s moustache reminds him of a bad dream. The police force swoops down en masse on the office of the journal, and are met by the sitz-redacteur, who goes with them peaceably, allowing the editor to remain and sketch out plans for his next week’s article on the Crown Prince. We need a sitz-redacteur on Cosy Moments almost as much as a fighting editor; and we have neither.” “The Kid has had to leave then?” “He wants to go into training at once. He very sportingly offered to cancel his match, but of course that would never do. Unless you consider Comrade Maloney equal to the job, I must look around me for some one else. I shall be too fully occupied with purely literary matters to be able to deal with chance callers. But I have a scheme.” “What’s that?”…

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Excerpt #9, from Latin Phrase Book, by Carl Meissner

…a vero non abhorrere—to be probable. veri simile esse—to be probable. haec speciosiora quam veriora sunt—this is more plausible than true. vera et falsa (a falsis) diiudicare—to distinguish true and false. vera cum falsis confundere—to confuse true with false. veritas—veracity. re (vera), reapse (opp. specie)—in truth; really. in errore versari—to be mistaken. magno errore teneri—to be in gross error, seriously misled. in magno errore versari—to be in gross error, seriously misled. vehementer errare—to be in gross error, seriously misled. erroribus implicari (Tusc. 4. 27. 58)—to fall into error. per errorem labi, or simply labi—to take a false step. aliquem in errorem inducere, rapere—to lead a person into error. errorem animo imbibere—to get a mistaken notion into the mind. errorem cum lacte nutricis sugere (Tusc. 3. 1. 2)—to imbibe error from one’s mother’s breasts. error longe lateque diffusus—a wide-spread error. errorem tollere—to banish an error, do away with a false impression. errorem amputare et circumcīdere—to banish an error, do away with a false impression….

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Excerpt #10, from Around the World on a Bicycle Volume II, by Thomas Stevens

…serviceableness, swords, daggers, ornamental goat’s-paunch powder-pouches, peculiar pendent brass rings containing spring nippers for carrying and affixing caps, leathern water-bottles, together with various odds and ends of warlike accoutrements distributed about their persons or their saddles. “Inshallah, Ghalakua, Gh-al-a-kua!” exclaims the khan, as he swings himself into the saddle. “Inshallah, Al-lah,” is the response of the mirza and the mudbake, as they carelessly follow his example, and the march across the Dasht-i-na-oomid begins. The ryot leads the way afoot, following along the partially empty beds of mountain torrents, through patches of rank camel-thorn, over bowlder-strewn areas and drifts of sand, sometimes following along the merest suggestion of a trail, but quite as frequently following no trail at all. At certain intervals occurs a piece of good ridable ground; our villager-guide then looks back over his shoulder and bounds ahead with a swinging trot, eager to enjoy the spectacle of the bicycle spinning along at his heels; the escort bring up the rear in a leisurely manner, absorbed in the discussion of “pool.” Several miles are covered in this manner, when we emerge upon a more open country, and after consulting at some length with the villager, the khan declares himself capable of finding the way without further assistance….

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Excerpt #11, from History of the World War: An Authentic Narrative of the World’s Greatest War

…special indignation, and Pope Benedict sent a protest to Berlin. An examination of exploded shells indicated that the new German gun was less than nine inches in caliber, and that the projectiles, which weighed about two hundred pounds, contained two charges, in two chambers connected by a fuse which often exploded more than a minute apart. It took three minutes for each shell to travel to Paris and it was estimated that such a shell rose to a height of twenty miles from the earth. Three of these guns were used. One of these guns exploded on March 29th, killing a German lieutenant and nine men. The Kaiser was present when the gun was first used. It was said by American scientists that seismographs in the United States felt the shock of each discharge. On April 9th French aviators discovered the location of the new guns, and French artillery began to drop enormous shells weighing half a ton each near the German monsters. A few days later a French shell fell on the barrel of one of these guns and put it out of commission. Great craters were made around the other, interfering with its use, and toward the end of the period it was only occasionally that the remaining gun was fired, and no great damage resulted. Another feature of the great German drives was the tremendous destruction that accompanied them. Not only were churches, public buildings, and private houses throughout almost the whole district…

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Excerpt #12, from Postal Riders and Raiders, by W. H. Gantz

…clerks and postmasters–postmasters, from Hiram Hairpin at Crackerville, Ga., all the way up–fourth, third, second class postmasters to the first-class postmasters in our larger cities–why, I ask, is Mr. Hitchcock working so strenuously to get the vast political machine of his department lined up against the protest of millions of our people, unless he is still after those pestiferous, independent magazines? Why, again, it may be asked, are he and his assistants coaching the 220,000 clerks of his department and the 60,000 postmasters, assistant postmasters, etc., on his “staff” to put up a promotion talk for a one-cent rate on first-class (letter or sealed) matter? It should be a one-cent rate. Nobody at all informed as to mail service rates and revenues will question that. But it is equally true that, up to a recent date, there have been, comparatively speaking (the comparison being with the millions protesting against an increase in the second-class rate) but few complaints and complainants against the present rate of two cents for carrying and handling a letter. Why, then, I ask, is Mr. Hitchcock so actively cranking up his departmental political machine to make neighborhood runs and do some hill climbing in advocacy of that one-cent rate for first-class matter? Yes, why? Is it a legitimate assumption to say that the present agitation for a…

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