Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:36

Excerpt #1, from Investigation of Communist activities in Seattle, Wash., area. Hearings, Part 3

…in 1949 and Mr. Daschbach did not become a Smith Act defendant, if I remember correctly, until 1954. Mr. VELDE. I think that commotion was because they didn’t know how to spell his name. Mr. TAVENNER. The spelling is D-a-s-c-h-b-a-c-h. Mr. O’CONNELL. I thought maybe I had left something unexplained. Mr. TAVENNER. Ted Astley was slated to conduct course No. 245, psychology in the social science. He appeared as a witness before the committee and refused to testify, relying on the fifth amendment as to past and present Communist Party membership. He was identified as a member of the Communist Party by Barbara Hartle. Ruth Bitterman was slated to conduct a course in children’s workshop. She refused to testify as a witness before the committee but was identified by Barbara Hartle as a member of the Communist Party. Jean Danielson was shown by testimony in our hearings in Seattle to be the same person as Margaret Jean Schuddakoph, and was advertised to conduct course No. 300, as special workshop in reading and writing. She refused to testify before the committee and was identified as a Communist Party member by Barbara Hartle. Marjorie Daschbach was advertised to conduct course No. 304 and was…

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Excerpt #2, from A Doll’s House : a play, by Henrik Ibsen

…But, tell me, wasn’t it for that very purpose that you asked me to meet you here? MRS LINDE. In my first moment of fright, it was. But twenty-four hours have elapsed since then, and in that time I have witnessed incredible things in this house. Helmer must know all about it. This unhappy secret must be disclosed; they must have a complete understanding between them, which is impossible with all this concealment and falsehood going on. KROGSTAD. Very well, if you will take the responsibility. But there is one thing I can do in any case, and I shall do it at once. MRS LINDE. [listening]. You must be quick and go! The dance is over; we are not safe a moment longer. KROGSTAD. I will wait for you below. MRS LINDE. Yes, do. You must see me back to my door… KROGSTAD. I have never had such an amazing piece of good fortune in my life! _[Goes out through the outer door. The door between the room and the…

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Excerpt #3, from History of biology, by L. C. Miall

…(Polytrichum) is of two forms, only one of which bears capsules, and further that in dry weather the capsules emit masses of fine dust. No further progress was made until 1782, when Hedwig, in a memoir of real merit, described the antheridium and archegonium of the moss, and traced the capsule to the archegonium. Interpreting the organs of the moss by those of the flowering plant, he called the antheridia anthers, the capsule was a seed-vessel, the spores were seeds, and the green filament emitted by the germinating spore a cotyledon. Such misinterpretations were then inevitable. Fungi.—Micheli in 1729 found the spores of several fungi, germinated them, and figured the product. The figures show the much-branched filament (mycelium) which burrows in the soil and constitutes the vegetative part of the fungus, and also here and there a pileus (mushroom, toadstool, &c.), which is the fructification springing out of the mycelium. His account comprises the best part of what is known down to the present time of the reproduction of that group of fungi to which the mushroom belongs. Algæ.—Some early observers (Réaumur among the rest) studied the enlarged and fleshy branches of brown seaweeds, and discovered the seed-like spores. This scanty knowledge of the life-history of cryptogams sufficed…

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Excerpt #4, from The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde

…garden seemed to be telling the flowers about her. CHAPTER VIII. It was long past noon when he awoke. His valet had crept several times on tiptoe into the room to see if he was stirring, and had wondered what made his young master sleep so late. Finally his bell sounded, and Victor came in softly with a cup of tea, and a pile of letters, on a small tray of old Sevres china, and drew back the olive-satin curtains, with their shimmering blue lining, that hung in front of the three tall windows. “Monsieur has well slept this morning,” he said, smiling. “What o’clock is it, Victor?” asked Dorian Gray drowsily. “One hour and a quarter, Monsieur.” How late it was! He sat up, and having sipped some tea, turned over his letters. One of them was from Lord Henry, and had been brought by hand that morning. He hesitated for a moment, and then put it aside. The others he opened listlessly. They contained the usual collection of cards, invitations to dinner, tickets for private views, programmes of charity concerts, and the like that are showered on fashionable young men every morning during the season. There was a rather heavy bill for a chased silver Louis-Quinze toilet-set that he had not yet had the courage to send on to his guardians, who were extremely old-fashioned…

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Excerpt #5, from Familiar Quotations, by John Bartlett

…[127-1] “Can walk” in White. [127-2] “Eastern hill” in Dyce, Singer, Staunton, and White. [127-3] “One auspicious and one dropping eye” in Dyce, Singer, and Staunton. [128-1] “Armed at all points” in Singer and White. [129-1] And may you better reck the rede, Than ever did the adviser. BURNS: Epistle to a Young Friend. [129-2] “Hooks” in Singer. [131-1] And makes night hideous.–POPE: The Dunciad, book iii. line 166. [131-2] “To lasting fires” in Singer. [131-3] “Porcupine” in Singer and Staunton. [131-4] “Rots itself” in Staunton. [133-1] A short saying oft contains much wisdom.–SOPHOCLES: Aletes, frag. 99. [135-1] See Chaucer, page 5. [136-1] “Who would these fardels” in White. [138-1] “Protests” in Dyce, Singer, and Staunton. [141-1] Extreme remedies are very appropriate for extreme…

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Excerpt #6, from Word Portraits of Famous Writers, by Mabel E. Wotton

…and puts Professor Bain out of court–at least out of court with those who use fair induction about the men and women whom they meet and know.”–About 1851. [Sidenote: James Payn’s Literary Recollections.] “I seem to see the dear little old lady now, looking like a venerable fairy, with bright sparkling eyes, a clear, incisive voice, and a laugh that carried you away with it. I never saw a woman with such an enjoyment of–I was about to say a joke, but the word is too coarse for her–of a pleasantry. She was the warmest of friends, and with all her love of fun never alluded to their weaknesses…. I well remember our first interview. I expected to find the authoress of Our Village in a most picturesque residence, overgrown with honeysuckle and roses, and set in an old-fashioned garden. Her little cottage at Swallowfield, near Reading, did not answer this picture at all. It was a cottage, but not a pretty one, placed where three roads met, with only a piece of green before it. But if the dwelling disappointed me, the owner did not. I was ushered upstairs (for at that time, crippled by rheumatism, she was unable to leave her room) into a small apartment, lined with books from floor to ceiling, and fragrant with flowers; its tenant rose from her arm-chair with difficulty, but with a sunny smile and a charming manner bade me welcome. My father had been an old friend…

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Excerpt #7, from Winnie the Pooh, by A. A. Milne

…I think, if you did that, it would help the deception which we are practising on these bees." Well, you laughed to yourself, “Silly old Bear!” but you didn’t say it aloud because you were so fond of him, and you went home for your umbrella. “Oh, there you are!” called down Winnie-the-Pooh, as soon as you got back to the tree. “I was beginning to get anxious. I have discovered that the bees are now definitely Suspicious.” “Shall I put my umbrella up?” you said. “Yes, but wait a moment. We must be practical. The important bee to deceive is the Queen Bee. Can you see which is the Queen Bee from down there?” “No.” “A pity. Well, now, if you walk up and down with your umbrella, saying, ‘Tut-tut, it looks like rain,’ I shall do what I can by singing a little Cloud Song, such as a cloud might sing…. Go!” So, while you walked up and down and wondered if it would rain, Winnie-the-Pooh sang this song: How sweet to be a Cloud Floating in the Blue! Every little cloud…

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Excerpt #8, from Mr. Standfast, by John Buchan

…“It’s time ye was home, Miss Mary. It chappit half-eleven as I came up the stairs. It’s comin’ on to rain, so I’ve brought an umbrelly.” “One word,” I said. “How old is the man?” “Just gone thirty-six,” Blenkiron replied. I turned to Mary, who nodded. “Younger than you, Dick,” she said wickedly as she got into her big Jaeger coat. “I’m going to see you home,” I said. “Not allowed. You’ve had quite enough of my society for one day. Andrew’s on escort duty tonight.” Blenkiron looked after her as the door closed. “I reckon you’ve got the best girl in the world.” “Ivery thinks the same,” I said grimly, for my detestation of the man who had made love to Mary fairly choked me. “You can see why. Here’s this degenerate coming out of his rotten class, all pampered and petted and satiated with the easy pleasures of life. He has seen nothing of women except the bad kind and the overfed specimens of his own country. I hate being impolite about females, but I’ve always considered the German variety uncommon like cows. He has had desperate years of intrigue and danger, and consorting with every kind of scallawag. Remember, he’s a big man and a poet, with a brain and an imagination that takes every grade without changing gears….

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Excerpt #9, from Astounding Stories, August, 1931, by Various

…“We’re going north,” Van replied shortly, in answer to Bart’s question when they entered the official car in front of the hotel, “after Dan Kelly.” “After Dan Kelly? Got a line on him?” “Yes. Secret Service reports him in Toronto. The Canucks are after him now, but, by God, I’m going to get him myself!” Van was haggard and wan, his eyes gleaming with a fanatical light. The strain had done something to him–something Bart didn’t like at all. This was a different Van from the man who had entered his office two days previously. Unshaven and unkempt, he looked and talked like a drunken man on the verge of delirium tremens. “What’s the idea, Van?” he asked gently. “I’m going to get him. I tell you. The scum! It’s his fault the whole world’s against me. I’ll get him, Bart; I’ll kill him with my bare hands!” So that was it! The combination of gruelling labor in the effort to save mankind from the dread moon weed, and bitter censure from the very people he was trying to save, had been too much for Van. He had developed a fixation, unreasoning and murderous; he’d get even with the man who had caused the trouble. And nothing could deter him from his purpose: Bart could see that. Might as well humor him and help…

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Excerpt #10, from Beyond Good and Evil, by Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

…experiences. He digests his events badly; he never gets “done” with them; and German depth is often only a difficult, hesitating “digestion.” And just as all chronic invalids, all dyspeptics like what is convenient, so the German loves “frankness” and “honesty”; it is so CONVENIENT to be frank and honest!–This confidingness, this complaisance, this showing-the-cards of German HONESTY, is probably the most dangerous and most successful disguise which the German is up to nowadays: it is his proper Mephistophelean art; with this he can “still achieve much”! The German lets himself go, and thereby gazes with faithful, blue, empty German eyes–and other countries immediately confound him with his dressing-gown!–I meant to say that, let “German depth” be what it will–among ourselves alone we perhaps take the liberty to laugh at it–we shall do well to continue henceforth to honour its appearance and good name, and not barter away too cheaply our old reputation as a people of depth for Prussian “smartness,” and Berlin wit and sand. It is wise for a people to pose, and LET itself be regarded, as profound, clumsy, good-natured, honest, and foolish: it might even be–profound to do so! Finally, we should do honour to our name–we are not called the “TIUSCHE VOLK” (deceptive people) for nothing…. 245. The “good old” time is past, it sang itself out in Mozart–how…

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Excerpt #11, from The call of Cthulhu, by H. P. Lovecraft

…molded in his sleep the form of the dreaded Cthulhu. March 23rd the crew of the Emma landed on an unknown island and left six men dead; and on that date the dreams of sensitive men assumed a heightened vividness and darkened with dread of a giant monster’s malign pursuit, whilst an architect had gone mad and a sculptor had lapsed suddenly into delirium! And what of this storm of April 2nd–the date on which all dreams of the dank city ceased, and Wilcox emerged unharmed from the bondage of strange fever? What of all this–and of those hints of old Castro about the sunken, star-born Old Ones and their coming reign; their faithful cult and their mastery of dreams? Was I tottering on the brink of cosmic horrors beyond man’s power to bear? If so, they must be horrors of the mind alone, for in some way the second of April had put a stop to whatever monstrous menace had begun its siege of mankind’s soul. * * * * * That evening, after a day of hurried cabling and arranging, I bade my host adieu and took a train for San Francisco. In less than a month I was in Dunedin; where, however, I found that little was known of the strange cult-members who had lingered in the old sea taverns. Waterfront scum was far too common for special mention; though there was vague talk about one inland trip these mongrels had made, during…

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Excerpt #12, from Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, by William Shakespeare

…Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. ROSENCRANTZ. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body? HAMLET. Compounded it with dust, whereto ’tis kin. ROSENCRANTZ. Tell us where ’tis, that we may take it thence, And bear it to the chapel. HAMLET. Do not believe it. ROSENCRANTZ. Believe what? HAMLET. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge—what replication should be made by the son of a king? ROSENCRANTZ. Take you me for a sponge, my lord? HAMLET. Ay, sir; that soaks up the King’s countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the King best service in the end: he keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to be last swallowed: when he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again. ROSENCRANTZ. I understand you not, my lord. HAMLET. I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear. ROSENCRANTZ. My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us to the King. HAMLET. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body….

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