Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:24

Excerpt #1, from A Humorous History of England, by Charles Harrison

…Give Wolsey then a tender thought. His main ambition that the King Should be supreme in everything; Thomas And Thomas Cromwell followed suit Cromwell To make his master absolute Head of the Church within his realm. These two most able at the helm; But not with skill enough endued To ‘scape their King’s ingratitude. Despotical the King’s power grew. He’s England’s Pope by Act of Su- Premacy; as, to gain divorce, The foreign Pope is banned perforce. 1537 Now Bluff King Harry gives the Monks A series of most awful funks; Three thousand odd of their domains He ’collars’ for his Courtiers’ gains. Edward VI. Edward Six to the throne succeeds 1547-1553 A pious youth of goodly deeds; One, well known in the Capital, The Blue Coat School (Christ’s Hospital)….

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Excerpt #2, from The Idiot, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

…that quite friendly relations existed between them. Rogojin, who had also seemed on the point of going away now sat motionless, his head bent, seeming to have forgotten his intention. He had drunk no wine, and appeared absorbed in reflection. From time to time he raised his eyes, and examined everyone present; one might have imagined that he was expecting something very important to himself, and that he had decided to wait for it. The prince had taken two or three glasses of champagne, and seemed cheerful. As he rose he noticed Evgenie Pavlovitch, and, remembering the appointment he had made with him, smiled pleasantly. Evgenie Pavlovitch made a sign with his head towards Hippolyte, whom he was attentively watching. The invalid was fast asleep, stretched out on the sofa. “Tell me, prince, why on earth did this boy intrude himself upon you?” he asked, with such annoyance and irritation in his voice that the prince was quite surprised. “I wouldn’t mind laying odds that he is up to some mischief.” “I have observed,” said the prince, “that he seems to be an object of very singular interest to you, Evgenie Pavlovitch. Why is it?” “You may add that I have surely enough to think of, on my own account, without him; and therefore it is all the more surprising that I cannot tear my eyes and thoughts away from his detestable physiognomy.”…

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Excerpt #3, from Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson

…I should not have been as now, a mere fleeing sheep before this butcher. Wounded as he was, it was wonderful how fast he could move, his grizzled hair tumbling over his face, and his face itself as red as a red ensign with his haste and fury. I had no time to try my other pistol, nor indeed much inclination, for I was sure it would be useless. One thing I saw plainly: I must not simply retreat before him, or he would speedily hold me boxed into the bows, as a moment since he had so nearly boxed me in the stern. Once so caught, and nine or ten inches of the blood-stained dirk would be my last experience on this side of eternity. I placed my palms against the main-mast, which was of a goodish bigness, and waited, every nerve upon the stretch. Seeing that I meant to dodge, he also paused; and a moment or two passed in feints on his part and corresponding movements upon mine. It was such a game as I had often played at home about the rocks of Black Hill Cove, but never before, you may be sure, with such a wildly beating heart as now. Still, as I say, it was a boy’s game, and I thought I could hold my own at it against an elderly seaman with a wounded thigh. Indeed my courage had begun to rise so high that I allowed myself a few darting thoughts on what would be the end of the affair, and while I saw certainly that I could spin it out for long, I saw no hope of any ultimate escape….

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Excerpt #4, from Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall

…other words, had there been any thing ordinarily human about him, doubtless I should have violently dismissed him from the premises. But as it was, I should have as soon thought of turning my pale plaster-of-paris bust of Cicero out of doors. I stood gazing at him awhile, as he went on with his own writing, and then reseated myself at my desk. This is very strange, thought I. What had one best do? But my business hurried me. I concluded to forget the matter for the present, reserving it for my future leisure. So calling Nippers from the other room, the paper was speedily examined. A few days after this, Bartleby concluded four lengthy documents, being quadruplicates of a week’s testimony taken before me in my High Court of Chancery. It became necessary to examine them. It was an important suit, and great accuracy was imperative. Having all things arranged I called Turkey, Nippers and Ginger Nut from the next room, meaning to place the four copies in the hands of my four clerks, while I should read from the original. Accordingly Turkey, Nippers and Ginger Nut had taken their seats in a row, each with his document in hand, when I called to Bartleby to join this interesting group. “Bartleby! quick, I am waiting.” I heard a slow scrape of his chair legs on the uncarpeted floor, and soon he appeared standing at the entrance of his hermitage….

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Excerpt #5, from Mr. Standfast, by John Buchan

…side. His off-hand self-possession seemed only the clever screen of the surprised conspirator who was hunting for a plan. We entered the cave, and he flung his pack into a corner. “Last time I was here,” he said, “I covered the floor with heather. We must get some more if we would sleep soft.” In the twilight he was a dim figure, but he seemed a new man from the one I had last seen in the Moot Hall at Biggleswick. There was a wiry vigour in his body and a purpose in his face. What a fool I had been to set him down as no more than a conceited flâneur! He went out to the shelf again and sniffed the fresh evening. There was a wonderful red sky in the west, but in the crevice the shades had fallen, and only the bright patches at either end told of the sunset. “Wake,” I said, “you and I have to understand each other. I’m a friend of Ivery and I know the meaning of this place. I discovered it by accident, but I want you to know that I’m heart and soul with you. You may trust me in tonight’s job as if I were Ivery himself.” He swung round and looked at me sharply. His eyes were hot again, as I remembered them at our first meeting. “What do you mean? How much do you know?” The hammer was going hard in my forehead, and I had to pull myself together to answer….

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Excerpt #6, from The Airship “Golden Hind”, by Percy F. Westerman

…cat: ‘/home/marc/Dropbox/Marc/books/Unsorted/pgbooks-for-excerpts/The Airship Golden’: No such file or directory cat: ‘Hind by Percy F. Westerman-39488-0.txt’: No such file or directory

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Excerpt #7, from Shakespeare’s Sonnets, by William Shakespeare

…Steal from his figure, and no pace perceiv’d; So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv’d: For fear of which, hear this thou age unbred: Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead. CV Let not my love be call’d idolatry, Nor my beloved as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence; Therefore my verse to constancy confin’d, One thing expressing, leaves out difference. ‘Fair, kind, and true,’ is all my argument, ‘Fair, kind, and true,’ varying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent, Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. Fair, kind, and true, have often liv’d alone, Which three till now, never kept seat in one. CVI…

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Excerpt #8, from A Romance of Tompkins Square, by Thomas A. Janvier

…little harder than usual at his pipe. Minna, who was in her wire cage in the shop settling her cash, only bent more intently over her books. But when Gottlieb went a step further and said, looking very keenly at Herr Sohnstein as he said it, that some great rascal must have lent Hans the money to make his fine start, Aunt Hedwig at once bristled up and said with emphasis that rascals, neither great nor small, were in the habit of lending their money to deserving young men; and Herr Sohnstein, a little sheepishly perhaps, and mumbling a little in his gray mustache, ventured the statement that this was a free country already, and people living in it were at liberty to lend their money to whom they pleased; and Minna, looking up from her books–Gottlieb’s back was turned towards her–blew a most unfilial kiss from the tips of her chubby fingers to Herr Sohnstein right over her father’s shoulder. All of which goes to show that something very like open war had broken out in the Café Nürnberg, and that the once united family dwelling therein was fairly divided into rival camps. Gottlieb’s dreary case was made a little less dreary when he found that the lebkuchen which Hans produced in his fine new bakery was distinctly an inferior article; not much better, in fact, than Gottlieb’s own. To any intelligent baker the reason for this was obvious: Hans was making his lebkuchen with new honey-cake. Thus made, even by the best of…

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Excerpt #9, 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 #10, from Autobiography of a Yogi, by Paramahansa Yogananda

…some good-humored gibes, he handed me six passes and a roll of ten-rupee bills. “I hardly think your theoretical trip needs such practical props,” he remarked, “but here they are.” That afternoon I exhibited my booty to Sri Yukteswar. Though he smiled at my enthusiasm, his words were noncommittal: “I would like to go; we shall see.” He made no comment when I asked his little hermitage disciple, Kanai, to accompany us. I also invited three other friends–Rajendra Nath Mitra, Jotin Auddy, and one other boy. Our date of departure was set for the following Monday. On Saturday and Sunday I stayed in Calcutta, where marriage rites for a cousin were being celebrated at my family home. I arrived in Serampore with my luggage early Monday morning. Rajendra met me at the hermitage door. “Master is out, walking. He has refused to go.” I was equally grieved and obdurate. “I will not give Father a third chance to ridicule my chimerical plans for Kashmir. Come; the rest of us will go anyhow.” Rajendra agreed; I left the ashram to find a servant. Kanai, I knew, would not take the trip without Master, and someone was needed to look after the luggage. I bethought myself of Behari, previously…

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Excerpt #11, from Psmith, Journalist, by P. G. Wodehouse

…A man who can vote, say, ten times in a single day for you, and who controls a great number of followers who are also prepared, if they like you, to vote ten times in a single day for you, is worth cultivating. So the politicians passed the word to the police, and the police left the Groome Street Gang unmolested and they waxed fat and flourished. Such was Bat Jarvis. * * * “Pipe de collar,” said Mr. Jarvis, touching the cat’s neck. “Mine, mister.” “Pugsy said it must be,” said Billy Windsor. “We found two fellows setting a dog on to it, so we took it in for safety.” Mr. Jarvis nodded approval. “There’s a basket here, if you want it,” said Billy. “Nope. Here, kit.” Mr. Jarvis stooped, and, still whistling softly, lifted the cat. He looked round the company, met Psmith’s eye-glass, was transfixed by it for a moment, and finally turned again to Billy Windsor. “Say!” he said, and paused. “Obliged,” he added. He shifted the cat on to his left arm, and extended his right hand to Billy….

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Excerpt #12, from A Christmas Carol in Prose; Being a Ghost Story of Christmas, by Charles Dickens

…on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed heartily, and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning to mingle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigands most ruthlessly. What would I not have given to be one of them! Though I never could have been so rude, no, no! I wouldn’t for the wealth of all the world have crushed that braided hair, and torn it down; and for the precious little shoe, I wouldn’t have plucked it off, God bless my soul! to save my life. As to measuring her waist in sport, as they did, bold young brood, I couldn’t have done it; I should have expected my arm to have grown round it for a punishment, and never come straight again. And yet I should have dearly liked, I own, to have touched her lips; to have questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest licence of a child, and yet to have been man enough to know its value. But now a knocking at the door was heard, and such a…

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