QUIZ — WHAT'S IN A NAME?

[Anonymouṡ No.21216369]

[Anonymouṡ No.21216372]

Another hundred quotations to identify. The overall theme should emerge fairly quickly. Odd and even answers fall into two broad categories. Some authors (no works) appear more than once. The usual trigger warnings (translations, pop-culture, non-fiction, female authors) apply.

Hints on request.

[Anonymous No.21216373]

>>21216369
Fuck off

[Anonymouṡ No.21216378]

1)
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION

I am writing this preface to the first edition so that in the event that this book is issued in a second edition I will be able to write a preface to the second edition, explaining what I said in the preface to the first edition and adding a few remarks about what I have been doing in the meantime, and so on.

In the event that the book reaches a third edition, it is my plan to write a preface to the third edition, covering all that I said in the prefaces to the first and second editions, and it is my plan to go on writing prefaces for new editions of this book until I die. After that I hope there will be children and grandchildren to keep up the good work.

In this early preface, when I have no idea how many copies of the book are going to be sold, the only thing I can do is talk about how I came to write these stories.


2)
'You are old, Father William,' the young man said,
'And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head —
Do you think, at your age, it is right?'


3)
Let me play the lion too. I will roar that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar that I will make the Duke say 'Let him roar again, let him roar again.'


4)
Bush gave his orders in a well-timed sequence. With the anchor broken out Hotspur gained momentary sternway. With the wheel hard over and the forecastle hands drawing at the headsail sheets she brought her head round. Bush sheeted home and ordered hands to the braces. In the sweetest possible way Hotspur caught the gentle wind, lying over hardly more than a degree or two. In a moment she was under way, slipping forward through the water, rudder balanced against sail-pressure, a living, lovely thing.


5)
Some years ago, being with a camping party in the mountains, I returned from a solitary ramble to find everyone engaged in a ferocious metaphysical dispute. The corpus of the dispute was a squirrel — a live squirrel supposed to be clinging to one side of a tree-trunk; while over against the tree's opposite side a human being was imagined to stand. This human witness tries to get sight of the squirrel by moving rapidly round the tree, but no matter how fast he goes, the squirrel moves as fast in the opposite direction, and always keeps the tree between himself and the man, so that never a glimpse of him is caught. The resultant metaphysical problem now is this: DOES THE MAN GO ROUND THE SQUIRREL OR NOT?

[Anonymouṡ No.21216394]

6)
Harris said there was nothing like a swim before breakfast to give you an appetite. He said it always gave him an appetite. George said that if it was going to make Harris eat more than Harris ordinarily ate, then he should protest against Harris having a bath at all.

He said there would be quite enough hard work in towing sufficient food for Harris up against stream, as it was.


7)
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world...


8)
William sighed. 'You're out late, Mr. Dibbler,' he said politely.
'Ah, Mr. Word. Times is hard in the hot sausage trade,' said Dibbler.
'Can't make both ends meat, eh?' said William.


9)
Depression, most people know, used to be termed "melancholia", a word which appears in English as early as the year 1303 and crops up more than once in Chaucer, who in his usage seemed to be aware of its pathological nuances. "Melancholia" would still appear to be a far more apt and evocative word for the blacker forms of the disorder, but it was usurped by a noun with a bland tonality and lacking any magisterial presence, used indifferently to describe an economic decline or a rut in the ground, a true wimp of a word for such a major illness.


10)
The main thing now was to find the steering wheel. At first, Billy windmilled his arms, hoping to find it by luck. When that didn't work, he became methodical, working in such a way that the wheel could not possibly escape him. He placed himself hard against the left-hand door, searched every square inch of the area before him. When he failed to find the wheel, he moved over six inches, and searched again. Amazingly, he was eventually hard against the right-hand door, without having found the wheel. He concluded that somebody had stolen it. This angered him as he passed out.

He was in the back seat of his car, which was why he couldn't find the steering wheel.

[Anonymous No.21216398]

>>21216369
letters mostly

[Anonymouṡ No.21216404]

11)
"Now then, for my next number I’m going to do something that no other acrobat in the world has ever attempted. A full somersault from a handstand back onto the hands. Are we all set? Let’s go. It’s a good trick — if I do it. Maybe some of you folks in the front row had better move back a couple steps. Don’t bother. I’m just kidding. I’ve never missed yet, as you can see, for I’m still in the land of the living. All right, here we go — up — and over! Thank you very much, folks."


12)
Considering merely his physical bulk, it was astonishing that he should have preserved an image of himself as a hungry youth standing outside a lighted window in the rain. He was a cheerful, heavy man with a round face that looked exactly like a pudding. Everyone was glad to see him, as one is glad to see, at the end of a meal, the appearance of a bland, fragrant, and nourishing dish made of fresh eggs, nutmeg, and country cream.


13)
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.


14)
Norton had travelled only a few metres when he came across an interruption in the smooth, apparently metallic wall. At first, he thought it was some peculiar decoration, for it seemed to serve no useful function. Six radial grooves, or slots, were deeply recessed in the metal, and lying in them were six crossed bars like the spokes of a rimless wheel, with a small hub at the centre. But there was no way in which the wheel could be turned, as it was embedded in the wall. Then he noticed, with growing excitement, that there were deeper recesses at the ends of the spokes, nicely shaped to accept a clutching hand (claw? tentacle?). If one stood so, bracing against the wall, and pulled on the spoke so...


15)
"Look at that tomb," Francis said to his companion. "Ain't that somethin'? That's Arthur T. Grogan. I saw him around Albany when I was a kid. He owned all the electricity in town."

"He ain't got much of it now," Rudy said.

"Don't bet on it," Francis said. "Them kind of guys hang on to a good thing."

[Anonymouṡ No.21216411]

16)
William Einhom was the first superior man I knew. He had a brain and many enterprises, real directing power, philosophical capacity, and if I were methodical enough to take thought before an important and practical decision and also (N.B.) if I were really his disciple and not what I am, I'd ask myself, "What would Caesar suffer in this case? What would Machiavelli advise or Ulysses do? What would Einhorn think?" I'm not kidding when I enter Einhom in this eminent list.


17)
So thou, with sails how swift! hast reach'd the shore
"Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,"
And thy lov'd consort on the dang'rous tide
Of life, long since, has anchor'd at thy side.


18)
It is noteworthy that Mr. Tracy succeeded, after six disconcerting miscarriages, in having his own wife delivered of a middle-aged Spaniard who lived for only six weeks. A man who carried jealousy to the point of farce, the novelist insisted that his wife and the new arrival should occupy separate beds and use the bathroom at divergent times.


19)
Women have often more of what is called good sense than men. They have fewer pretensions; are less implicated in theories; and judge of objects more from their immediate and involuntary impression on the mind, and, therefore, more truly and naturally. They cannot reason wrong; for they do not reason at all.


20)
"In fact, since you are here, there was a certain matter I wished to raise with you."
"Oh, really, Mr Stevens."
"Yes, Miss Kenton, just a small matter. I happened to be walking past the kitchen yesterday when I heard you calling to someone named William."
"Is that so, Mr Stevens?"
"Indeed, Miss Kenton. I did hear you call several times for 'William'. May I ask who it was you were addressing by that name?"
"Why, Mr Stevens, I should think I was addressing your father. There are no other Williams in this house, I take it."
"It's an easy enough error to have made," I said with a small smile. "May I ask you in future, Miss Kenton, to address my father as 'Mr Stevens'? If you are referring to him to a third party, then you may wish to call him 'Mr Stevens senior' to distinguish him from myself. I'm most grateful, Miss Kenton."

[Anonymouṡ No.21216414]

21)
Logic is the most useful tool of all the arts. Without it no science can be fully known.


22)
“You are too hasty, sir,” she cried. “You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to decline them.”

“I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”


23)
Thirtyfive years
I lived with my husband.
The plumtree is white today
with masses of flowers.


24)
Messer Ermino having already heard how worthy a man was this Guglielmo Borsiere and having yet, all miser as he was, some tincture of gentle breeding, received him with very amicable words and blithe aspect and entered with him into many and various discourses. Devising thus, he carried him, together with other Genoese who were in his company, into a fine new house of his which he had lately built and after having shown it all to him, said, 'Pray, Messer Guglielmo, you who have seen and heard many things, can you tell me of something that was never yet seen, which I may have depictured in the saloon of this my house?' Guglielmo, hearing this his preposterous question, answered, 'Sir, I doubt me I cannot undertake to tell you of aught that was never yet seen, except it were sneezings or the like; but, an it like you, I will tell you of somewhat which me thinketh you never yet beheld.' Quoth Messer Ermino, not looking for such an answer as he got, 'I pray you tell me what it is.' Whereto Guglielmo promptly replied, 'Cause Liberality to be here depictured.'


25)
Someone comes through the hall. It is Darl. He does not look in as he passes the door. Eula watches him as he goes on and passes from sight again toward the back. Her hand rises and touches her beads lightly, and then her hair. When she finds me watching her, her eyes go blank.

[Anonymouṡ No.21216416]

26)
A few steps more, and our breaths were literally snatched from us by what we saw; so literally that Thornton, the psychic investigator, actually fainted in the arms of the dazed man who stood behind him. Norrys, his plump face utterly white and flabby, simply cried out inarticulately; whilst I think that what I did was to gasp or hiss, and cover my eyes. The man behind me — the only one of the party older than I — croaked the hackneyed My God! in the most cracked voice I ever heard. Of seven cultivated men, only Sir William Brinton retained his composure; a thing more to his credit because he led the party and must have seen the sight first.


27)
There are some critics so with spleen diseased,
They scarcely come inclining to be pleased:
And sure he must have more than mortal skill
Who pleases anyone against his will.


28)
The two of them stopped at the Will of the World Exhibit Hall on 16th Street. They wrote their names with a stylus in wax when they went in, or rather William wrote the names of both of them for Kandy could not write. And because he bore the mystic name of William, he received a card out of the slot with a genuine Will of the World verse on it:

This City of the World is wills
Of Willful folk, and nothing daunts it.
With daring hearts we hewed the hills
To make the World as Willy wants it.


29)
Brick could be beautiful, but we have covered it gradually with gray industrial vomits. Age does not make concrete genial, and asphalt is always — like America — twenty-one, until it breaks up in crumbs like stale cake.


30)
His favourite work was wood-carving. The first thing he made for her was a butter-stamper. In it he carved a mythological bird, a phoenix, something like an eagle, rising on symmetrical wings, from a circle of very beautiful flickering flames that rose upwards from the rim of the cup.

Anna thought nothing of the gift on the evening when he gave it to her. In the morning, however, when the butter was made, she fetched his seal in place of the old wooden stamper of oak-leaves and acorns. She was curiously excited to see how it would turn out. Strange, the uncouth bird moulded there, in the cup-like hollow, with curious, thick waverings running inwards from a smooth rim. She pressed another mould. Strange, to lift the stamp and see that eagle-beaked bird raising its breast to her. She loved creating it over and over again. And every time she looked, it seemed a new thing come to life. Every piece of butter became this strange, vital emblem.

She showed it to her mother and father.

“That is beautiful,” said her mother, a little light coming on to her face.

[Anonymouṡ No.21216421]

31)
Start, I beseech you, with a conviction firmly fixed on your mind, that you have no right to live in this world; that, being of hale body and sound mind, you have no right to any earthly existence, without doing work of some sort or other, unless you have ample fortune whereon to live clear of debt; and, that even in that case, you have no right to breed children, to be kept by others, or to be exposed to the chance of being so kept. Start with this conviction thoroughly implanted on your mind. To wish to live on the labour of others is, besides the folly of it, to contemplate a fraud at the least, and, under certain circumstances, to meditate oppression and robbery.


32)
"No good roasting 'em now, it'd take all night," said a voice. Bert thought it was William's.
"Don't start the argument all over again, Bill," he said, "or it *will* take all night."
"Who's a-arguing?" said William, who thought it was Bert that had spoken.
"You are," said Bert.


33)
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.


34)
"Ah, but how long do you think it'll last?" said somebody. It was as if she had antennae trembling out from her, which, intercepting certain sentences, forced them upon her attention. This was one of them. She scented danger for her husband. A question like that would lead, almost certainly, to something being said which reminded him of his own failure. How long would he be read — he would think at once. William Bankes (who was entirely free from all such vanity) laughed, and said he attached no importance to changes in fashion. Who could tell what was going to last — in literature or indeed in anything else?


35)
A young man leaps down into the operating theatre and, whipping out a scalpel, advances on the patient.

DR. BENWAY: ‘An espontaneo! Stop him before he guts my patient!’

(Espontaneo is a bull-fighting term for a member of the audience who leaps down into the ring, pulls out a concealed cape and attempts a few passes with the bull before he is dragged out of the ring.)

The orderlies scuffle with the espontaneo, who is finally ejected from the hall. The anesthetist takes advantage of the confusion to pry a large gold filling from the patient’s mouth...

[Anonymouṡ No.21216426]

36)
He was known in his day to be a mighty hunter; and old men who remembered him used to tell of the time he “chased the dogs the whole way over into Tennessee, and was gone four days and nights, and never knowed how fer from home he was.”

There is also the story of his fight with a grizzly bear: the bear charged him at close quarters and there was nothing left for him to do but fight. A searching party found him two days later, more dead than living — as they told it, “all chawed up,” but with the carcass of the bear: “and in the fight be had bit the nose off that big b'ar and chawed off both his years, and that ba’r was so tored up hit was a caution.”


37)
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers


38)
"Keep him covered. Mistress Hardesty. Bill, she won't shoot you as long as you cooperate. What happened to your last name?"
"I never had one. I was 'Bill Number Six' at the Holy Name Children's Refuge. Dirtside, that is. New Orleans."
"I see. I begin to see. But what did it say on your passport when you came here?"
"Didn't have one. Just a contractor's work card. It read 'William No-Middle-Name Johnson.' But that was just what the labor recruiter wrote on it. Look, she's wiggling that gun at me!"
"Then don't do anything to annoy her. You know how women are."


39)
Rico was a simple man. He loved but three things: himself, his hair and his gun. He took excellent care of all three.


40)
They walked up the slope to the house. The terrace was peaceful and innocuous-looking in the sunshine. They hesitated there a minute, then instead of entering by the front door, they made a cautious circuit of the house.
They found Blore. He was spread-eagled on the stone terrace on the east side, his head crushed and mangled by a great block of white marble.
Philip looked up. He said:
"Whose is that window just above?"
Vera said in a low shuddering voice:
"It's mine — and that's the clock from my mantelpiece... I remember now. It was — shaped like a bear."
She repeated and her voice shook and quavered:
"It was shaped like a bear..."

[Anonymouṡ No.21216430]

41)
If any of us were as well taken care of as the sentences of Henry James, we'd never long for another, never wander away: where else would we receive such constant attention, our thoughts anticipated, our feelings understood? Who else would robe us so richly, take us to the best places, or guard our virtue as his own and defend our character in every situation? If we were his sentences, we'd sing ourselves though we were dying and about to be extinguished, since the silence which would follow our passing would not be like the pause left behind by a noisy train. It would be a memorial, well-remarked, grave, just as the Master has assured us death itself is: the distinguished thing.


42)
“Here’s a place for writing,” said Bathsheba. “What shall I put?”

“Something of this sort, I should think,” returned Liddy promptly:—

“The rose is red,
The violet blue,
Carnation’s sweet,
And so are you.”

“Yes, that shall be it. It just suits itself to a chubby-faced child like him,” said Bathsheba. She inserted the words in a small though legible handwriting; enclosed the sheet in an envelope, and dipped her pen for the direction.

“What fun it would be to send it to the stupid old Boldwood, and how he would wonder!” said the irrepressible Liddy, lifting her eyebrows, and indulging in an awful mirth on the verge of fear as she thought of the moral and social magnitude of the man contemplated.


43)
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.


44)
It was black times, I tell you, aboard the Rights here. I was worried to that degree my pipe had no comfort for me. But Billy came; and it was like a Catholic priest striking peace in an Irish shindy. Not that he preached to them or said or did anything in particular; but a virtue went out of him, sugaring the sour ones.


45)
"One night... one night, I'd just come back from Chiba." She dropped the cigarette, ground it out with her heel, and sat down, leaning against the wall. "Surgeons went way in, that trip. Tricky. They must have disturbed the cut-out chip. I came up. I was into this routine with a customer..." She dug her fingers deep in the foam. "Senator, he was. Knew his fat face right away. We were both covered with blood. We weren't alone. She was all..." She tugged at the temperfoam. "Dead. And that fat prick, he was saying, 'What's wrong. What's wrong?' 'Cause we weren't finished yet..."

She began to shake.

"So I guess I gave the Senator what he really wanted, you know?"

[Anonymouṡ No.21216437]

46)
He smiled — a self-conscious, sheepish smile. His freckled face blushed to the roots of his short stubby hair. She seemed to find nothing odd in the fact of a small boy being in charge of a sweet-shop. She came up to the counter.

“Please, I want two twopenny bars of chocolate.”

Her voice was very clear and silvery.

Ecstasy rendered William speechless. His smile grew wider and more foolish. Seeing his two half-sucked Pineapple Crisps exposed upon the scales, he hastily put them into his mouth.


47)
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.


48)
The quarrel betwixt him and his relatives was such, that he scarcely ever mentioned the race from which he sprung, and held as the most contemptible species of vanity, the weakness which is commonly termed family pride. His ambition was only to be distinguished as William Osbaldistone, the first, at least one of the first, merchants on Change; and to have proved him the lineal representative of William the Conqueror would have far less flattered his vanity than the hum and bustle which his approach was wont to produce among the bulls, bears, and brokers of Stock-alley.


49)
— Rhine . . . GOLD! they howled into the glare of footlights, cowering round the empty table at the centre of the stage.

— Rhinemaidens! . . . The baton rapped sharply through their declining wail. — This is your shout of triumph. A joyful cry! Bast thumped out the theme again on the piano, missed a note, winced, repeated it. — Can't you sound joyful, Rhinemaidens?


50)
“Take my advice, Studdock,” he said, “or at least think it over. I don’t believe in sociology myself, but you’ve got quite a decent career before you if you stay at Bracton. You’ll do yourself no good by getting mixed up with the N.I.C.E. — and, by God, you’ll do nobody else any good either.”

“I suppose there are two views about everything,” said Mark.

“Eh? Two views? There are a dozen views about everything until you know the answer. Then there’s never more than one. But it’s no affair of mine. Good night.”

[Anonymouṡ No.21216440]

51)
For the first rubber Arrow cut with the newcomer.
"Do you play Vanderbilt or Culbertson?" she asked her.
"I have no conventions," Lena answered in a happy-go-lucky way, "I play by the light of nature."
"I play strict Culbertson," said Arrow acidly.


52)
Frances rose, as if restless; she passed before me to stir the fire, which did not want stirring; she lifted and put down the little ornaments on the mantelpiece; her dress waved within a yard of me; slight, straight, and elegant, she stood erect on the hearth.

There are impulses we can control; but there are others which control us, because they attain us with a tiger-leap, and are our masters ere we have seen them. Perhaps, though, such impulses are seldom altogether bad; perhaps Reason, by a process as brief as quiet, a process that is finished ere felt, has ascertained the sanity of the deed. Instinct meditates, and feels justified in remaining passive while it is performed. I know I did not reason, I did not plan or intend, yet, whereas one moment I was sitting solus on the chair near the table, the next, I held Frances on my knee, placed there with sharpness and decision, and retained with exceeding tenacity.


53)
The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.


54)
“Would you like a servant, sir?” asked Passepartout.

“A servant!” cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick grey beard which hung from his chin. “I already have two who are obedient and faithful, have never left me, and serve me for their nourishment and here they are,” added he, holding out his two robust arms, furrowed with veins as large as the strings of a bass-viol.

“So I can be of no use to you?”

“None.”


55)
The First Lady, in her last act as First Lady, leaned solicitously towards the President. His face was quizzical. She had seen that expression so often, when he was puzzling over a difficult press conference question. Now, in a gesture of infinite grace, he raised his right hand, as though to brush back his tousled chestnut hair. But the motion faltered. The hand fell back limply. He had been reaching for the top of his head. But it wasn't there any more.

[Anonymouṡ No.21216443]

56)
William Paradene West sat in the middle of the road at that busy spot where Forty-Second Street joins Fifth Avenue. Always crowded, this centre of New York appeared now to be even more congested than usual. On every side, as far as the eye could reach, vast hordes of people with peculiar faces passed and re-passed; and as they went jeered at Bill unfeelingly. A policeman, chewing gum, surveyed him with quiet dislike — offended, doubtless, for policemen are prudish in these matters, by the fact that he was bare-footed and clad only in a suit of mesh-knit underwear. Somewhere close at hand a steam-rivetter was at work, making a noise singularly afflicting to the nerves.


57)
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds;
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds.


58)
'Then at last they come to get them. They quickly taken Willie and them boys to the sick ward and their legs were all swelled and froze. Gangrene. They sawed off both our Willie's feets. Buster Johnson lost one foot and the other boy got well. But our Willie — he crippled for life now. Both his feet sawed off.'


59)
Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.


60)
Carter pushed a small flask across to Wormold. ‘There’s not enough for two. Take it all.’
‘Very kind of you, Carter.’ He unscrewed the top and poured all that there was into his glass.
‘Only a Johnnie Walker. Nothing fancy.’
Dr Braun said, ‘If anyone here can speak for all of us about the long years of patient service a trader gives to the public, I am sure it is Mr Wormold, whom now I call upon...’
Carter winked and raised an imaginary glass.
‘H-hurry,’ Carter said. ‘You’ve got to h-hurry.’
Wormold lowered the whisky. “What did you say, Carter?’
‘I said drink it up quick.’
‘Oh no, you didn’t, Carter.’ Why hadn’t he noticed that stammered aspirate before? Was Carter conscious of it and did he avoid an initial ‘h’ except when he was pre-occupied by fear or h-hope?
‘What’s the matter, Wormold?’
Wormold put his hand down to pat the dog’s head and as though by accident he knocked the glass from the table.

[Anonymouṡ No.21216445]

61)
There are few subjects upon which human ingenuity has been more fully displayed than in inventing instruments of torture. The lash of the whip a thousand times repeated and flagrant on the back of the defenceless victim, the bastinado on the soles of the feet, the dislocation of limbs, the fracture of bones, the faggot and the stake, the cross, impaling, and the mode of drifting pirates on the Volga, make but a small part of the catalogue. When Damiens, the maniac, was arraigned for his abortive attempt on the life of Louis XV of France, a council of anatomists was summoned to deliberate how a human being might be destroyed with the longest protracted and most diversified agony.


62)
That just tore it. I dont know why. It just totally pissed me off. I looked at her and said: Mama, try not to think of it as losing a son. Try to think of it as gaining a freak.


63)
Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!


64)
Sergeant Brown nodded soberly, and then his face turned bitter. "What do you expect? Do you think you're going to go home a hero? Listen, when you get home folks are going to look at you and say, 'Arthur Stanley, you been gone a long time,' and you'll say, 'Yeah,' and then they'll say, 'Well, things've been pretty rough here, but I guess they're going to improve some. You're sure lucky you missed it all.' "

Stanley laughed. "I haven't seen much," he said modestly, "but I do know that those poor civilians don't begin to know the score."


65)
A square not three feet each way. No, not so much. Not much room. And, of course, nothing could be standing there. Whatever held the centre must be small. Curled up.

Snake.

I was standing up, pressed back against the wall, trying not to breathe. I got there in the one movement my body made. My body had many hairs on legs and belly and chest and head, and each had its own life; each inherited a hundred thousand years of loathing and fear for things that scuttle or slide or crawl. I gasped a breath and then listened through all the working machinery of my body for the hiss or rattle, for the slow, scaly sound of a slither, except that in the zoo they made no sound but oozed like oil. In the desert they would vanish with hardly a furrow and a trickle of sand. They could move towards me, finding me by the warmth of my body, the sound of the blood in my neck. Theirs was the wisdom and if one of them had been left at the centre there was no telling where it would be next.

[Anonymouṡ No.21216448]

66)
It was time to go. As we left the bar, we saw two men fighting at the wooden pump. One was short and stocky: he was pummelling a tall gangling creature with loose flapping arms.

"'Put out the light,'" bellowed the youth and we recognised the most splendid voice in our city: Edwin Forrest was giving a much deserved beating to William de la Touche Clancey, the Tory sodomite.


67)
Rhoda pulled away from her mother. She went into her room and began working on her jigsaw puzzle. Later Christine came into the room and put the sandwich and milk on the table. Her face was still puzzled, her brows puckered a little. She said, "Just the same, it was an unfortunate thing to see and remember." She kissed the child on the top of her head, and continued. "I understand how you really feel, my darling."

Rhoda moved a bit of her puzzle into its proper place on the board; then, looking up, she said in a surprised voice, "I don't know what you're talking about, Mother. I don't feel any way at all."


68)
They drove to Sarratt at a mad speed, and there, in the open night under a clear sky, lit by several hand torches and stared at by several white-faced inmates of the Nursery, sat Bill Haydon on a garden bench facing the moonlit cricket field. He was wearing striped pyjamas under his overcoat; they looked more like prison clothes. His eyes were open and his head was propped unnaturally to one side, like the head of a bird when its neck has been expertly broken.


69)
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.


70)
"Will you answer a question?" I asked.
"Well, within reason," said he.
"How did you do it? Have you searched for hidden treasure, or discovered a pole, or done time on a pirate, or flown the Channel, or what? Where is the glamour of romance? How did you get it?"
He stared at me with a hopeless expression upon his vacuous, good-natured, scrubby little face.
"Don't you think all this is a little too personal?" he said.
"Well, just one question," I cried. "What are you? What is your profession?"
"I am a solicitor's clerk," said he. "Second man at Johnson and Merivale's, 41 Chancery Lane."
"Good-night!" said I, and vanished, like all disconsolate and broken-hearted heroes, into the darkness, with grief and rage and laughter all simmering within me like a boiling pot.

[Anonymouṡ No.21216452]

71)
Among us, the beauty of building and planting is placed chiefly in some certain proportions, symmetries, or uniformities; our walks and our trees ranged so, as to answer one another, and at exact distances. The Chinese scorn this way of planting, and say a boy that can tell an hundred, may plant walks of trees in straight lines, and over against one another, and to what length and extent he pleases. But their greatest reach of imagination, is employed in contriving figures, where the beauty shall be great, and strike the eye, but without any order or disposition of parts, that shall be commonly or easily observed. And though we have hardly any notion of this sort of beauty, yet they have a particular word to express it; and where they find it hit their eye at first sight, they say the Sharawadgi is fine or is admirable, or any such expression of esteem.


72)
The old man took a volume that lay before him and passed it to William. I recognized the binding: it was the book I had opened in the infirmary, thinking it an Arabic manuscript.

“Read it, then, leaf through it, William,” Jorge said. “You have won.”

William looked at the volume but did not touch it. From his habit he took a pair of gloves, not his usual mitts with the fingertips exposed, but the ones Severinus was wearing when we found him dead. Slowly he opened the worn and fragile binding.


73)
Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned tonight, for she shall not live. No, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter creature. She might lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks.


74)
Here Legrand, having re-heated the parchment, submitted it to my inspection. The following characters were rudely traced, in a red tint, between the death’s-head and the goat:

“53‡‡†305))6*;4826)4‡.)4‡);806*;48†8¶60))85;1‡(;:‡*8†83(88)5*†
;46(;88*96*?;8)*‡(;485);5*†2:*‡(;4956*2(5*—4)8¶8*;4069285);)
6†8)4‡‡;1(‡9;48081;8:8‡1;48†85;4)485†528806*81(‡9;48;(88;4(‡?3
4;48)4‡;161;:188;‡?;”

“But,” said I, returning him the slip, “I am as much in the dark as ever. Were all the jewels of Golconda awaiting me upon my solution of this enigma, I am quite sure that I should be unable to earn them.”


75)
— Yes, he thought, between grief and nothing I will take grief.

[Anonymouṡ No.21216454]

76)
“What are you up to? Ill-treating the boys, you covetous, avaricious, in-sa-ti-a-ble old fence?” said the man, seating himself deliberately. “I wonder they don’t murder you! I would if I was them. If I’d been your ’prentice, I’d have done it long ago, and — no, I couldn’t have sold you afterwards, for you’re fit for nothing but keeping as a curiousity of ugliness in a glass bottle, and I suppose they don’t blow glass bottles large enough.”


77)
I was wery for-wandred,
And wente me to reste
Under a brood bank
By a bournes syde;
And as I lay and lenede,
And loked on the watres,
I slombred into a slepyng,
It sweyed so murye.


78)
You could talk to him about os and argos, suet and grease, croteys, fewmets and fiants, but he only looked polite. He knew that you were showing off your knowledge of these words, which were to him a business. You could talk about a mighty boar which had nearly slashed you last winter, but he only stared at you with his distant eyes. He had been slashed sixteen times by mighty boars, and his legs had white weals of shiny flesh that stretched right up to his ribs. While you talked, he got on with whatever part of his profession he had in hand.


79)
We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.


80)
A few minutes after Sorrowful arrives, a party by the name of Milk Ear Willie from the West Side comes in, this Milk Ear Willie being a party who is once a prize fighter and who has a milk ear, which is the reason he is called Milk Ear Willie, and who is known to carry a John Roscoe in his pants pocket. Furthermore, it is well known that he knocks off several guys in his time, so he is considered rather a suspicious character.

It seems that the reason he comes into the Hot Box is to shoot Sorrowful full of little holes, because he has a dispute with Sorrowful about a parlay on the races the day before, and the chances are Sorrowful will now be very dead if it does not happen that, just as Milk Ear outs with the old equalizer and starts taking dead aim at Sorrowful from a table across the room, who pops into the joint but Marky.

She is in a long nightgown that keeps getting tangled up in her bare feet as she runs across the dance floor and jumps into Sorrowful's arms, so if Milk Ear Willie lets go at this time he is apt to put a slug in Marky, and this is by no means Willie's intention. So Willie puts his rod back in his kick, but he is greatly disgusted and stops as he is going out and makes a large complaint to Henri about allowing children in a night club.

[Anonymouṡ No.21216458]

81)
Now Blackford Oakes is physically handsome, in a sense a metaphor for his ideals. Here I took something of a chance. I decided not only to make him routinely good looking, but to make him startlingly so. I don't mean startling in the sense that, let us say, Elizabeth Taylor is startlingly beautiful. It is hard to imagine a male counterpart for what we understand as pulchritude. An extremely handsome man is not the *equivalent* of an extremely beautiful woman, he is her complement, and that is very important to bear in mind in probing the American look — which is not, for example, the same thing as the Italian look. When Schopenhauer exclaimed that a sixteen-year-old girl is the "smash triumph of nature," he made a cosmic statement that could only have been made about the female sex.


82)
'A graveyard,' said Shakespeare reflectively. He stroked his beard.
'A graveyard,' said Bacon, hoping to cut the argument short, 'is not comical.'
But Shakespeare rounded on him. This opposition had provided just the stimulation he needed.
'But it is hugely funny,' he said. 'A graveyard. Think of it.' He roared with laughter.


83)
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear.


84)
He asks pretty high wages: But wages to a good servant are not to be stood upon. What signify forty or fifty shillings a year? An honest servant should be enabled to lay up something for age and infirmity. Hire him at once, Mrs. Reeves says. She will be answerable for his honesty from his looks, and from his answers to the questions ask'd him.


85)
There was a tallow dip still burning on a wooden box, but it was the powder I smelled, stronger even than the tallow. I couldn't seem to breathe for the smell of the powder, looking at Granny. She had looked little alive, but now she looked like she had collapsed, like she had been made out of a lot of little thin dry light sticks notched together and braced with cord, and now the cord had broken and all the little sticks had collapsed in a quiet heap on the floor, and somebody had spread a clean and faded calico dress over them.

[Anonymouṡ No.21216460]

86)
This man, who was tall and very dark, sat weightily down at his place at the foot of the table while Miss Cutler, whom he terrified by his demands for what he called the correct thing, ran out of the room. He studied Dixon closely when the latter said ‘You’re early to-day, Bill,’ as if the remark might have carried some challenge to his physical strength or endurance; then, seemingly reassured, nodded twenty or thirty times. His centre-parted black hair and rectangular moustache gave him an air of archaic ferocity.


87)
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!


88)
'At the moment of death,' Landy said, 'I should have to be standing by so that I could step in immediately and try to keep your brain alive.'
'You mean leaving it in the head?'
'To start with, yes, I'd have to.'


89)
Marcy, as she often told Watson, simply could not stop Grandpa's mouth, could not stop his wheels, could not get him out of her way. And she was busy. If she was hurrying across a room to get some washing in the sink or to get the broom, Grandpa Samuels would make a surprise run out at her from the hall or some door and streak across in front of her, laughing fiendishly or shouting boo! and then she would leap as high as her bulbous ankles would lift her and scream, for she was a nervous woman and had so many things on her mind.


90)
"But you don't want to hear about that," he said. And in his faded blue eyes was the deep yearning to talk about it, as plain as anything could possibly be.

"It's none of my business," I said. "But if it would make you feel any better — "

He nodded sharply. "Two guys will meet on a park bench," he said, "and start talking about God. Did you ever notice that? Guys that wouldn't talk about God to their best friend."

"I know that," I said.

[Anonymouṡ No.21216464]

91)
Who has not seen how women bully women? What tortures have men to endure, comparable to those daily repeated shafts of scorn and cruelty with which poor women are riddled by the tyrants of their sex?


92)
He was conveyed home, and the anguish that was visible in my countenance betrayed the secret to Elizabeth. She was very earnest to see the corpse. At first I attempted to prevent her but she persisted, and entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck of the victim, and clasping her hands exclaimed, ‘O God! I have murdered my darling child!’

She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty. When she again lived, it was only to weep and sigh. She told me, that that same evening William had teased her to let him wear a very valuable miniature that she possessed of your mother. This picture is gone, and was doubtless the temptation which urged the murderer to the deed.


93)
Slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills.
It is not the effort nor the failure tires.
The waste remains, the waste remains and kills.


94)
Billy punched a beer can for the girl, and she flustered him so with her bright smile and her "Thank you, Billy," that he took to opening cans for all of us.


95)
"Isn't it odd that they never found his body?"

"No." This was said without hesitation.

"Really?" I don't understand the dynamics of the sea, but if driftwood and Coke cans are anything to go by, then I thought most buoyant objects ended up on a beach somewhere.

"Not to be too blunt about it, if you die out there it doesn't take too long to become part of the food chain."

"Ah."

"The thing you've got to remember," he added with a sudden thoughtful air, "is that the only thing unusual about the Harold Holt drowning was that he was Prime Minister when it happened. If it hadn't been for that the whole thing would have been completely forgotten. Mind you, it's pretty well forgotten anyway."

"So you don't get a lot of people coming here in a kind of pilgrimmage?"

"No, not at all. Most people barely remember it. A lot of people under thirty have never even heard of it."

He broke off to issue tickets to some new arrivals and I drifted away to look at the displays of seagrasses and life in rockpools. But as I was leaving he called to me with an afterthought. "They built a memorial to him in Melbourne," he said. "Know what it was?"

I indicated that I had no idea.

He grinned very slightly. "A municipal swimming pool."

"Seriously?"

His grin broadened, but the nod was sincere.

"This is a terrific country," I said.

"Yeah," he agreed happily. "It is, you know."

[Anonymouṡ No.21216470]

96)
Wilhelm heard a noise behind him: he turned round, and saw a child's face peeping archly through the tapestry at the end of the room; it was Felix. The boy playfully hid himself so soon as he was noticed. "Come forward!" cried the abbé: he came running; his father rushed towards him, took him in his arms, and pressed him to his heart. "Yes! I feel it," cried he, "thou art mine! What a gift of Heaven have I to thank my friends for! Whence or how comest thou, my child, at this important moment?"

"Ask not," said the abbé. "Hail to thee, young man! Thy Apprenticeship is done: Nature has pronounced thee free."


97)
And still I dream he treads the lawn,
Walking ghostly in the dew,
Pierced by my glad singing through —


98)
'He's supposed to have a particularly high-class style: 'Feather-footed through the plashy fen passes the questing vole'... would that be it?'

'Yes,' said the Managing Editor. 'That must be good style. At least it doesn't sound like anything else to me. I know the name well now you mention it. Never seen the chap. I don't think he's ever been to London...'


99)
Merrily, merrily shall I live now


100)
He said at last, heavily and slowly, "In many ways I am an ignorant man; it is I who am foolish, not you. I have not come to see you because I thought — I felt that I was becoming a nuisance. Maybe that was not true."

"No," she said. "No, it wasn't true."

Still not looking at her, he continued, "And I didn't want to cause you the discomfort of having to deal with — with my feelings for you, which, I knew, sooner or later, would become obvious if I kept seeing you."

She did not move; two tears welled over her lashes and ran down her cheeks; she did not brush them away.

"I was perhaps selfish. I felt that nothing could come of this except awkwardness for you and unhappiness for me. You know my — circumstances. It seemed to me impossible that you could — that you could feel for me anything but — "

"Shut up," she said softly, fiercely. "Oh, my dear, shut up and come over here."

[Anonymouṡ No.21218009]

Bump.

[Anonymous No.21218710]

>>21216394
7) some poem by Yeats
23) some poem Williams
33) Invictus
49) Warner
74) The Gold Bug by Poe
99) The Tempest

[Anonymouṡ No.21218780]

>>21218710
>7) some poem by Yeats
Yep, W.B.Yeats. Probably his most famous poem I guess. I'm sure some other anon will know the title.

>23) some poem Williams
Correct, although there are quite a few authors called WIlliams. This one is the most famous of them I guess. Or the most famous poet anyway.

>33) Invictus
Yup.

>49) Warner
Nope. (Not sure if you meant the writer Alan Warner or if there's a book called Warner? Either way, no.)

>74) The Gold Bug by Poe
Correct.

>99) The Tempest
Correct. Ariel.

[Anonymous No.21219210]

6. Three Men in a Boat
20. Remains of the Day

[Anonymouṡ No.21220137]

>>21219210
Correct.

[Anonymous No.21220152]

>>21216421
33 Invictus

[Anonymouṡ No.21220259]

>>21220152
Correct. This guy
>>21218710
already got it but you can share the VALUABLE PRIZE. (It might also be useful to give the author.)

[Anonymous No.21220327]

6: three men in a boat
8: is a disc world book, i think the one where they make newspaper. was it called "the truth"?
33: invictus
74 the gold bug by poe

[Anonymouṡ No.21220384]

>>21220327
All correct. Others got some of them but the Terry Pratchett is all yours. (Yes, it's The Truth.)

The overall theme should be emerging now, I guess.

[Anonymouṡ No.21221542]

Bump. A few hints:

— 5 is a famous work of philosophy

—- 32 is a very well-known novel

— 44 is a lesser-known work by a meme author

— 62 is the most recent book

— 75 is another lesser-known work by a meme author

[Anonymous No.21221633]

Is 54 "around the world in 80 days?" The servant's name is passepartout.

[Anonymouṡ No.21221724]

>>21221633
Correct. Knowing the other guy's name will be useful too.

[Anonymouṡ No.21222533]

Last bump before bed.

Another hint: 22, 34, 40, 46, 52, 58, 92 are female authors.

[Anonymous No.21222603]

>>21216369
They've got a name for you, girls
What's in a name?
(Blah-blah-blah, blah)

They've got a name for everything!
All of the clothes that you wear
All of the bits and pieces, yeah!

[Anonymous No.21222909]

no idea what the theme is here

[Anonymouṡ No.21224007]

>>21222909
Maybe it needs a few more answers but checking the details of the answers already found might help.

These are non-fiction:
5, 9, 19, 21, 31, 41, 55, 59, 71, 81, 95

And these are on the border between fiction and non-fiction:
29, 35, 66

[Anonymous No.21224169]

>>21216421
32 is the Hobbit
I had no idea the trolls were named William and Bert, lol.

[Anonymouṡ No.21224200]

>>21224169
Correct. There's Tom as well but he's not saying anything at that point.

[Anonymous No.21224327]

I'm going to assume these quotes are "William" themed. It's either the name of a character, the author or it's in the title

[Anonymouṡ No.21225972]

>>21224327
An intriguing hypothesis. How does it fit with the odd/even thing?

[Anonymous No.21226635]

>>21216369
Metaphysics that you wouldn't understand.

[Anonymous No.21227528]

>>21226635
irredeemably gay post

[Anonymous No.21228832]

>>21225972
Here's what we currently have:
Numbers 2, 8, 10, 16, 20, 26, 28, 32, 34, 38, 44, 46, 48, 56, 58, 66, 68, 72, 80, 86, 92, 94 –character is named William. Also 74, 54, 82 and 6, but only the last name is mentioned. 96 is Wilhelm, I guess it also counts.
Numbers 7, 23, 33, 99 – author is named William or has a surname derived from this name
(I'm esl so sorry if this next part is a bit incoherent)
4 – We have two last names (or nicknames?) so one of these characters, either Bush or Hotspur, could be a William. Or perhaps another character, who is not mentioned
12 – this is a description of a man, no names.
14, 18, 22, 24 – all last names:
14 – Norton is a man
18 – Mr. Tracy, obviously male
22 – a conversation between a woman and a man names Mr. Collins
24 – we only know the full name of one character, Guglielmo Borsiere. Messer Ermino is another character (I assume "messer" is a form of address)
30 – the only named character here is a woman, Anna, the man is only referred to as "he"
36 – same as 12
40 – we have 3 names: Vera, Philip and a man called Blore, which I assume is a last name
42 – several names here. Bathsheba and Liddy are females, they are referencing a boy and a man surnamed Boldwood.
50 – this is (probably) a conversation between two people. One of the people is named Mark Studdock, and the name of the other man is unknown
52 – there's a female named Frances and another unnamed person, possibly a man
60 – Carter, Wormold and Dr Braun. I assume they are all men. Braun is obviously a surname, I suspect the same for the other two
62 – first person narration. Seems like the character is reffering to himself when he mentions "losing a son" to the mother, so it's likely a male, but I can only assume.
70 – a dialogue. The names are unknown. One of the speakers in definitely male. We also have "Johnson and Merivale's" – name of a law firm?
76 – a man is talking to someone.
78 – description of a man.
84 – he, she and Mr Reeves.
88 – a dialogue, one of the speakers is named Landy
90 – a conversation, one of the speakers is male.
98 – two people talking about a man, one of them is " the Managing Director"
100 – a conversation between a man and a woman

[Anonymouṡ No.21229128]

>>21228832
Good systematic approach. I think you can assume that every even-numbered passage has a character called William present, or at least mentioned directly. (It would be a bit unfair otherwise.) So if you have a surname and a genre too, you're well on the way.

A few specific comments:

>4 – We have two last names (or nicknames?)
One of these two isn't a person.

>12 – this is a description of a man, no names.
>36 – same as 12
These are difficult. 20th-century USA short stories.

>24 – we only know the full name of one character, Guglielmo Borsiere.
How would you translate "Guglielmo"? Was GB a real person, and if so, when and where did he live?

>30 – the only named character here is a woman, Anna
>70 – a dialogue. The names are unknown.
>84 – he, she and Mr Reeves.
>90 – a conversation
No surnames = harder, for sure. 30 = early-20th-C. novel. 70 = early-20th-C. adventure novel. 84 = probably the hardest one in the quiz. Very long boring old novel that no sane person has read. 90 = crime novel.

>40 – we have 3 names: Vera, Philip and a man called Blore, which I assume is a last name
And the writing is pretty trite. So a William Blore getting killed in a trashy story. Murder mystery perhaps?

>42 – several names here. Bathsheba and Liddy are females, they are referencing a boy and a man surnamed Boldwood.
Boldwood is a fairly unusual surname. Bathsheba is a fairly unusual first name.

>52 – there's a female named Frances and another unnamed person, possibly a man
Presumably the narrator is William someone. A difficult one, but if you look here
>>21222533
you see it's a female author. So a female-authored novel, told in first person, with a male narrator. That's rare.

>62 – first person narration. Seems like the character is reffering to himself when he mentions "losing a son" to the mother, so it's likely a male, but I can only assume.
Exactly. What's going on? Why would someone say this to his mother? How might a mother lose a son and gain a freak? (This one is perhaps hard because it's a very recent book, so few people will have read it. But it's a /lit/ meme author and a subject dear to the board's heart.)

>78 – description of a man.
Description of a man with a very specific profession, and not one from this century. So historical / fantasy novel?

>88 – a dialogue, one of the speakers is named Landy
The key is the weird gruesome subject-matter being discussed. Short story.

>98 – two people talking about a man, one of them is " the Managing Director"
Managing *Editor*. So a newspaper or publisher or something. Early-20th-century English satirical novel. Difficult.

>100 – a conversation between a man and a woman
An emotionally climactic moment in a /lit/ favourite. Lots of people have read it; it's just a question of one of them coming and looking all the way to number 100.

[Anonymous No.21229151]

>>21229128
>>4 – We have two last names (or nicknames?)
>One of these two isn't a person.
Sorry, right, I feel very dumb right now. I've read it again and it seems Hotspur is a ship? I just skimmed through it and assumed it was a person's name because it was capitalized.

[Anonymous No.21229183]

>>21229128
>(This one is perhaps hard because it's a very recent book, so few people will have read it. But it's a /lit/ meme author and a subject dear to the board's heart.)
Is it the Passenger? It's the only very recent book by a meme author I can think of

[Anonymouṡ No.21229206]

>>21229183
Correct. The tranny "Debussy" talking about how he (she) went back to see his (her) mother and his (her) mother didn't take it well. Turns out Debussy's original name was William.

It's impossible to sit on the fence with trannies. Either you call them "he" or you call them "she", and either way you're making a pretty strong statement. I wonder if Cormac met a high-achieving tranny at the Santa Fe institute? They're quite thick on the ground in some hyper-masculine fields (e.g. computer science). Of course he's always had a soft spot for outsiders in general (see Suttree for details).

[Anonymous No.21229833]

>>21216394
10 - Slaughterhouse Five

[Anonymouṡ No.21229864]

>>21229833
Correct. Billy Pilgrim.

[Anonymous No.21230924]

>>21227528
People tend to lash out as their world crumbles around them.

[Anonymous No.21231147]

>>21230924

[Anonymous No.21231149]

>>21230924

[Anonymous No.21231663]

>>21216437
49 is J R (i always loved that scene lol)

[Anonymouṡ No.21232438]

>>21231663
Correct. And 49 is an odd number and J.R. was written by —

[Anonymouṡ No.21233656]

Bump.