The Art of Narration

F.S. Crofts & Company, 1926 - 494 pages

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Page 71 - To make the- past present, to bring the distant near, to place us in the society of a great man or on the eminence which overlooks the field of a mighty battle, to invest with the reality of human flesh and blood beings whom we are too much inclined to consider as personified qualities...
Page 435 - Gessler in?" I said. He gave me a strange, ingratiating look. "No, sir," he said, "no. But we can attend to anything with pleasure. We've taken the shop over. You've seen our name, no doubt, next door. We make for some very good people." "Yes, Yes," I said; "but Mr. Gessler?" "Oh!" he answered; "dead." "Dead! But I only received these boots from him last Wednesday week." "Ah!" he said; "a shockin' go. Poor old man starved 'imself." "Good God!" "Slow starvation, the doctor called it! You see he went...
Page 383 - It's like a book, I think, this bloomin' world, Which you can read and care for just so long, But presently you feel that you will die Unless you get the page you're readin' done, An' turn another — likely not so good ; But what you're after is to turn 'em all.
Page 488 - That's Harve for you," approved the Grand Army man. " I kin hear him howlin' yet, when he was a big feller in long pants and his mother used to whale him with a rawhide in the barn for lettin' the cows git foundered in the cornfield when he was drivin' 'em home from pasture. He killed a cow of mine that-a-way onct — a pure Jersey and the best milker I had, an' the ole man had to put up for her.
Page 491 - Sayer, the brightest young lawyer you ever turned out, after he had come home from the university as straight as a die, take to drinking and forge a check and shoot himself? Why did Bill Merrit's son die of the shakes in a saloon in Omaha ? Why was Mr. Thomas's son, here, shot in a gambling-house? Why did young Adams burn his mill to beat the insurance companies and go to the pen? " The lawyer paused and unfolded his arms, laying one clenched fist quietly on the table. " I'll tell you why. Because...
Page 485 - The lawyer was sitting in a rocking-chair beside the coffin, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. Steavens looked at him earnestly, puzzled at the line of the chin, and wondering why a man should conceal a feature of such distinction under that disfiguring shock of beard. Suddenly, as though he felt the young sculptor's keen glance, Jim Laird opened his eyes. "Was he always a good deal of an oyster?" he asked abruptly. "He was terribly shy as a boy.
Page 213 - Will you come away with me?" he said finally to her, but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home. "You have been trifling with me,
Page 76 - European malefactor, that dungeon would, in such a 970 climate, have been too close and narrow. The space was only twenty feet square. The air-holes were small and obstructed. It was the summer solstice, the season when the fierce heat of Bengal can scarcely be rendered tolerable to natives of England by lofty halls and by the constant waving of fans. The number of prisoners was one hundred and forty-six.
Page 492 - Well, I came back here and became the damned shyster you wanted me to be. You pretend to have some sort of respect for me; and yet you'll stand up and throw mud at Harvey Merrick, whose soul you couldn't dirty and whose hands you couldn't tie. Oh, you're a discriminating lot of Christians ! There have been times when the sight of Harvey's name in some Eastern paper has made me hang my head like a whipped dog; and, again, times when I liked to think of him off there in the world, away from all this...
Page 491 - There was only one boy ever raised in this borderland between ruffianism and civilization who didn't come to grief, and you hated Harvey Merrick more for winning out than you hated all the other boys who got under the wheels.

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