Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

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Excerpt #1, from Darkwater: Voices from Within the Veil, by W. E. B. Du Bois

…light,–a triumph of possible good in evil so strange that the workers hardly believed it. Slowly they saw the gates of Ellis Island closing, slowly the footsteps of the yearly million men became fainter and fainter, until the stream of immigrants overseas was stopped by the shadow of death at the very time when new murder opened new markets over all the world to American industry; and the giants with the thunderbolts stamped and raged and peered out across the world and called for men and evermore,–men! The Unwise Men laughed and squeezed reluctant dollars out of the fists of the mighty and saw in their dream the vision of a day when labor, as they knew it, should come into its own; saw this day and saw it with justice and with right, save for one thing, and that was the sound of the moan of the Disinherited, who still lay without the walls. When they heard this moan and saw that it came not across the seas, they were at first amazed and said it was not true; and then they were mad and said it should not be. Quickly they turned and looked into the red blackness of the South and in their hearts were fear and hate! What did they see? They saw something at which they had been taught to laugh and make sport; they saw that which the heading of every newspaper column, the lie of every cub reporter, the exaggeration of every press dispatch, and the distortion of every speech and book had taught them…

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

…he could see the justice in the situation. It was obvious that Breckenridge had attained enormous influence with the government as a result of his successful Intelligence work. Well, why not? Lynn said, “Sir, I am considering the possibility that we are hopping uselessly to enemy piping.” “In what way?” “I’m sure that however impatient the public may grow at times, and however legislators sometimes find it expedient to talk, the government at least recognizes the world stalemate to be beneficial. They must recognize it also. Ten humanoids with one TC bomb is a trivial way of breaking the stalemate.” “The destruction of fifteen million human beings is scarcely trivial.” “It is from the world power standpoint. It would not so demoralize us as to make us surrender or so cripple us as to convince us we could not win. There would just be the same old planetary death-war that both sides have avoided so long and so successfully. And all They would have accomplished is to force us to fight minus one city. It’s not enough.” “What do you suggest?” said Jeffreys, coldly. “That They do not have ten humanoids in our country? That there is not a TC bomb waiting to get together?” "I’ll agree that those things are here, but perhaps for some reason…

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Excerpt #3, from Soldiers’ Stories of the War, by Walter Wood and A. C. Michael

…full bandolier is a heavy thing, and there was not much chance of taking aim. We were almost at our wits’ end, but we tried another way. We made a sort of daisy-chain of several bandoliers, and paid this out as best we could towards the trenches. The nearest man in the trench–a plucky chap he was–slipped out and made a dart for the end of the chain. He just made a mad grab and got it. Then he dashed back to his trench, and it seemed as if the business was all over, and that the daisy-chain would be safely hauled in; but to the grief of all of us the chain broke when a few yards of it had been pulled in. This was a dreadful disappointment, but still something had been done, some rounds of ammunition, at any rate, had been got into the trenches, and we were determined that the Tykes should have some more. We had to wait a bit, for as soon as the Yorkshireman had shot back to his trench, the ground that he had scuttled over was absolutely churned up by shells, and if he had been caught on it he would have been blown to rags. We lost no time in making other efforts, and at last the ammunition was safely delivered to the West Yorkshires in the trenches, and they did some rattling good business with it. I have mentioned “Jack Johnsons,” and I want to speak of them again by way of finish. It was at Ypres that I was bowled out. These “J.J.’s”…

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Excerpt #4, from Memories and Adventures, by Arthur Conan Doyle

…he was not alive when the Kaffir saw him. Rifle and horse are gone. His watch lies in front of him, dial upwards, run down at one in the morning. Poor chap, he had counted the hours until he could see them no longer. We examine him for injuries. Obviously he had bled to death. There is a horrible wound in his stomach. His arm is shot through. Beside him lies his water-bottle–a little water still in it, so he was not tortured by thirst. And there is a singular point. On the water-bottle is balanced a red chess pawn. Has he died playing with it? It looks like it. Where are the other chessmen? We find them in a haversack out of his reach. A singular trooper this, who carries chessmen on a campaign. Or is it loot from a farmhouse? I shrewdly suspect it. We collect the poor little effects of No. 410–a bandolier, a stylographic pen, a silk handkerchief, a clasp-knife, a Waterbury watch, £2 6_s._ 6_d._ in a frayed purse. Then we lift him, our hands sticky with his blood, and get him over my saddle–horrible to see how the flies swarm instantly on to the saddle-flaps. His head hangs down on one side and his heels on the other. We lead the horse, and when from time to time he gives a horrid dive we clutch at his ankles. Thank Heaven, he never fell. It is two miles to the road, and there we lay our burden under a telegraph post. A convoy is coming up, and we can…

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Excerpt #5, from The Iliad of Homer (1873), by Homer

…and knew more. For this reason [Neptune] avoided aiding them openly, but always kept privately inciting them through the army, assimilated to a man. They indeed alternately stretched over both the cord of vehement contest and equally destructive war, irrefragable and indissoluble, which relaxed the knees of many. Then, although half-hoary Idomeneus, encouraging the Greeks, rushing upon the Trojans, created night; for he slew Othryoneus, who had come from Cabesus, staying within [Priam’s house]. 423 He had lately come after the rumour of the war, and demanded Cassandra, the most beautiful in form of the daughters of Priam, without a dowry; and he had promised a mighty deed, to repulse in spite of themselves the sons of the Greeks from Troy. But to him aged Priam had promised her, and pledged himself 424 to give her; therefore he fought, trusting in these promises. But Idomeneus took aim at him with his shining spear, and hurling it, struck him, strutting proudly; nor did the brazen corslet which he wore resist it, but he fixed it in the middle of his stomach. And falling, he gave a crash, and [the other] boasted and said: “Othryoneus! above all men indeed do I praise thee, if thou wilt now in truth accomplish all which thou hast undertaken for Dardanian Priam: but he also promised thee his daughter. We likewise, promising these things, will accomplish them to thee. We will give thee the most…

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Excerpt #6, from Life And Letters Of John Gay (1685

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Excerpt #7, from Modern Essays, by Harry Morgan Ayres et al.

…at its best (I never drank better than Younger’s) excellent: but its tendency, I think, is to be too sweet. I once invested in some–not Younger’s–which I kept for nearly sixteen years, and which was still treacle at the end. Bass’s No. 1 requires no praises. Once when living in the Cambridgeshire village mentioned earlier I had some, bottled in Cambridge itself, of great age and excellence. Indeed, two guests, though both of them were Cambridge men, and should have had what Mr. Lang once called the “robust” habits of that University, fell into one ditch after partaking of it. (I own that the lanes thereabouts are very dark.) In former days, though probably not at present, you could often find rather choice specimens of strong beer produced at small breweries in the country. I remember such even in the Channel Islands. And I suspect the Universities themselves have been subject to “declensions and fallings off.” I know that in my undergraduate days at Merton we always had proper beer-glasses, like the old “flute” champagnes, served regularly at cheese-time with a most noble beer called “Archdeacon,” which was then actually brewed in the sacristy of the College chapel. I have since–a slight sorrow to season the joy of reinstatement there–been told that it is now obtained from outside.[F] And All Souls is the only other college in which, from actual recent experience, I can imagine the possibility of the exorcism,…

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Excerpt #8, from Modern Essays,, by Harry Morgan Ayres et al.

…judging that one token of her shame would but poorly serve to hide another, she took the baby on her arm, and, with a burning blush, and yet a haughty smile, and a glance that would not be abashed, looked around at her towns-people and neighbors. On the breast of her gown, in fine red cloth, surrounded with an elaborate embroidery and fantastic flourishes of gold-thread, appeared the letter A. It was so artistically done, and with so much fertility and gorgeous luxuriance of fancy, that it had all the effect of a last and fitting decoration to the apparel which she wore; and which was of a splendor in accordance with the taste of the age, but greatly beyond what was allowed by the sumptuary regulations of the colony. The young woman was tall, with a figure of perfect elegance on a large scale. She had dark and abundant hair, so glossy that it threw off the sunshine with a gleam, and a face which, besides being beautiful from regularity of feature and richness of complexion, had the impressiveness belonging to a marked brow and deep black eyes. She was lady-like, too, after the manner of the feminine gentility of those days; characterized by a certain state and dignity, rather than by the delicate, evanescent, and indescribable grace, which is now recognized as its indication. And never had Hester Prynne appeared more lady-like, in the antique interpretation of the term, than as she…

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Excerpt #9, from Sailors Narratives of Voyages Along the New England Coast, 1524

…fifteene cods, some the greatest that I have seene, and so we rode all night. The sixteenth, in the morning, it cleered up, and we had sight of five islands ♦Eastern Maine♦ lying north, and north and by west from us, two leagues. Then wee made ready to set sayle, but the myst came so thicke that we durst not enter in among them. The seventeenth, was all mystie, so that we could not get into the harbour. At ten of the clocke two boats came off to us, with sixe of the savages of the countrey, seeming glad of our comming. We gave them trifles, and they eate and dranke with us; and told us that there were gold, silver and copper mynes hard by us; and that the French-men doe trade with them; which is very likely, for one of them spake some words of French. So wee rode still all day and all night, the weather continuing mystie. The eighteenth, faire weather, wee went into a very good harbour, and rode hard by the shoare in foure fathoms water. The river runneth up a great way, ♦Penobscot♦ but there is but two fathoms hard by us. We went on shoare and cut us a fore mast; then at noone we came aboord againe, and found the height of the place to bee in 44 degrees, 1 minute, and the sunne to fall at a south south-west sunne. We mended our sayles, and fell to make our fore-mast. The harbour…

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Excerpt #10, from Sketches New and Old, by Mark Twain

…One day an individual stranger at the camp him arrested with his box and him said: “What is this that you have them shut up there within?” Smiley said, with an air indifferent: “That could be a paroquet, or a syringe (ou un serin), but this no is nothing of such, it not is but a frog.” The individual it took, it regarded with care, it turned from one side and from the other, then he said: “Tiens! in effect!–At what is she good?” “My God!” respond Smiley, always with an air disengaged, “she is good for one thing, to my notice (à mon avis), she can batter in jumping (elle peut battre en sautant) all frogs of the county of Calaveras.” The individual retook the box, it examined of new longly, and it rendered to Smiley in saying with an air deliberate: “Eh bien! I no saw not that that frog had nothing of better than each frog.” (Je ne vois pas que cette grenouille ait rien de mieux qu’aucune grenouille.) [If that isn’t grammar gone to seed, then I count myself no judge.–M. T.] “Possible that you not it saw not,” said Smiley, “possible that you–you comprehend frogs; possible that you not you there comprehend nothing; possible that you had of the experience, and possible that you not be but…

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Excerpt #11, from Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad

…there I thought of these two, guarding the door of Darkness, knitting black wool as for a warm pall, one introducing, introducing continuously to the unknown, the other scrutinizing the cheery and foolish faces with unconcerned old eyes. Ave! Old knitter of black wool. Morituri te salutant. Not many of those she looked at ever saw her again—not half, by a long way. “There was yet a visit to the doctor. ‘A simple formality,’ assured me the secretary, with an air of taking an immense part in all my sorrows. Accordingly a young chap wearing his hat over the left eyebrow, some clerk I suppose—there must have been clerks in the business, though the house was as still as a house in a city of the dead—came from somewhere up-stairs, and led me forth. He was shabby and careless, with inkstains on the sleeves of his jacket, and his cravat was large and billowy, under a chin shaped like the toe of an old boot. It was a little too early for the doctor, so I proposed a drink, and thereupon he developed a vein of joviality. As we sat over our vermouths he glorified the Company’s business, and by and by I expressed casually my surprise at him not going out there. He became very cool and collected all at once. ‘I am not such a fool as I look, quoth Plato to his disciples,’ he said sententiously, emptied his glass with great resolution, and we rose. “The old doctor felt my pulse, evidently thinking of something else the…

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Excerpt #12, from The Gravity Business, by James E. Gunn

…“We’ll have to be exclusive, though,” Grampa said. “Considering the Fweeps’ likes and dislikes, that is. We’ll sell only to people with children.” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gravity Business, by James E. Gunn *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAVITY BUSINESS ** This file should be named 49897-8.txt or 49897-8.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/4/9/8/9/49897/ Produced by Greg Weeks, Adam Buchbinder, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Updated editions will replace the previous one–the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,…

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