THE RED ONETHE RED ONEby Jack London1- Page 2-THE RED ONETHE RED ONETHERE it was! The abrupt liberation of sound! As he timed it withhis watch, Bassett likened it to the trump of an archangel. Walls of cities,he meditated, might well fall down before so vast and compelling asummons. For the thousandth time vainly he tried to analyse the tone-quality of that enormous peal that dominated the land far into the strong-...
The Bhagavad-Gita, translatedThe Bhagavad-GitaTranslated Sir Edwin Arnold1- Page 2-The Bhagavad-Gita, translatedDedicationTO INDIASo have I read this wonderful and spirit-thrilling speech, By Krishnaand Prince Arjun held, discoursing each with each; So have I writ itswisdom here,its hidden mystery, For England; O our India! as dear to meas She!EDWIN ARNOLD2- Page 3-The Bhagavad-Gita, translated...
I was following Derry Welfram at a prudent fifty paces when he stumbled, fell face down on the wet tarmac and lay still. I stopped, watching, as nearer hands stretched to help him up, and saw the doubt, the apprehension, the shock flower in the opening mouths of the faces around him. The word that formed in consequence in my own brain was violent, of four letters and unexpressed. Derry Welfram lay face down, unmoving, while the fourteen runners for the three-thirty race at York stalked closely past him, the damp jockeys looking down and back with muted curiosity, minds on the business ahead, bodies shivering in the cold near-drizzle of early October. The man was drunk. One could read t
The wind blew hard and joggled the water of the ocean, sending ripples across its surface.Then the wind pushed the edges of the ripples until they became waves, and shoved the waves around until they became billows.The billows rolled dreadfully high: higher even than the tops of houses.Some of them, indeed, rolled as high as the tops of tall trees, and seemed like mountains; and the gulfs between the great billows were like deep valleys. All this mad dashing and splashing of the waters of the big ocean, which the mischievous wind caused without any good reason whatever, resulted in a terrible storm, and a storm on the ocean is liable to cut many queer pranks and do a lot of damage....
The Monster Menby Edgar Rice Burroughs1THE RIFTAs he dropped the last grisly fragment of the dismembered and mutilated body into the small vat of nitric acid that was to devour every trace of the horrid evidence which might easily send him to the gallows, the man sank weakly into a chair and throwing his body forward upon his great, teak desk buried his face in his arms, breaking into dry, moaning sobs.Beads of perspiration followed the seams of his high, wrinkled forehead, replacing the tears which might have lessened the pressure upon his overwrought nerves. His slender frame shook, as with ague, and at times was racked by a convulsive shudder. A sudden step upon the stairway leading to
Lecture VIIITHE DIVIDED SELF, AND THE PROCESS OF ITS UNIFICATIONThe last lecture was a painful one, dealing as it did with evilas a pervasive element of the world we live in. At the close ofit we were brought into full view of the contrast between the twoways of looking at life which are characteristic respectively ofwhat we called the healthy-minded, who need to be born only once,and of the sick souls, who must be twice-born in order to behappy. The result is two different conceptions of the universeof our experience. In the religion of the once-born the world isa sort of rectilinear or one-storied affair, whose accounts are...
Cleopatraby H. Rider HaggardDEDICATIONMy dear Mother,I have for a long while hoped to be allowed to dedicate some bookof mine to you, and now I bring you this work, because whateverits shortcomings, and whatever judgment may be passed upon it byyourself and others, it is yet the one I should wish you toaccept.I trust that you will receive from my romance of "Cleopatra" somesuch pleasure as lightened the labour of its building up; and thatit may convey to your mind a picture, however imperfect, of theold and mysterious Egypt in whose lost glories you are so deeplyinterested....
Worldly Ways and Bywaysby Eliot GregoryA Table of ContentsTo the READER1. Charm2. The Moth and the Star3. Contrasted Travelling4. The Outer and the Inner Woman5. On Some Gilded Misalliances6. The Complacency of Mediocrity7. The Discontent of Talent8. Slouch9. Social Suggestion10. Bohemia11. Social Exiles12. "Seven Ages" of Furniture13. Our Elite and Public Life14. The Small Summer Hotel15. A False Start16. A Holy Land17. Royalty at Play18. A Rock Ahead19. The Grand Prix20. "The Treadmill"21. "Like Master Like Man"22. An English Invasion of the Riviera23. A Common Weakness...
The Altruist in Politicsby Benjamin CardozoThere comes not seldom a crisis in the life of men, of nations,and of worlds, when the old forms seem ready to decay, and theold rules of action have lost their binding force. The evils ofexisting systems obscure the blessings that attend them; and,where reform is needed, the cry is raised for subversion. Thecause of such phenomena is not far to seek. "It used to appearto me," writes Count Tolstoi, in a significant passage, "it usedto appear to me that the small number of cultivated, rich andidle men, of whom I was one, composed the whole of humanity, and...
The eyes behind the wide black rubber goggles were cold as flint. In the howling speed-turmoil of a BSA M20 doing seventy, they were the only quiet things in the hurtling flesh and metal. Protected by the glass of the goggles, they stared fixedly ahead from just above the centre of the handlebars, and their dark unwavering focus was that of gun muzzles. Below the goggles, the wind had got into the face through the mouth and had wrenched the lips back into a square grin that showed big tombstone teeth and strips of whitish gum. On both sides of the grin the cheeks had been blown out by the wind into pouches that fluttered slightly. To right and left of the hurtling face under the crash hel
The Old Masters: how well they understoodIts human position; how it takes placeWhile someone else is eating or opening a window orMt walking dully along ...W. H. AUDEN, "Musee des Beaux Arts"Old Blue died and he died so hard He shook the ground in my back yard. I dug his grave with a silver spade And I lowered him down with a golden chain. Every link you know I did call his name, I called, "Here, Blue, you good dog, you.FOLK SONG"Nope, nothing wrong here.THE SHARP CEREAL PROFESSORONCE UPON A TIME, not so long ago, a monster came to the small town of Castle Rock, Maine. He killed. a waitress named Alma Frechette in 1970; a woman named Pauline Toothaker and a junior high school student named
Preface To The First Volume.Diligence and accuracy are the only merits which anhistorical writer may ascribe to himself; if any merit, indeed,can be assumed from the performance of an indispensable duty. Imay therefore be allowed to say, that I have carefully examinedall the original materials that could illustrate the subjectwhich I had undertaken to treat. Should I ever complete theextensive design which has been sketched out in the Preface, Imight perhaps conclude it with a critical account of the authorsconsulted during the progress of the whole work; and however suchan attempt might incur the censure of ostentation, I am persuaded...