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“Phantoms” and “It is Enough” were written next after “Fathers and Children.” Although one of Turgénieff’s minor works, the critics pronounced “Phantoms” original, wonderfully artistic and philosophical, and wonderfully lyrical. The author himself called it “a fantasy,” as he did other sketches in which he sometimes poured out, in lyrical form, his sadness evoked by the contrary laws of nature, and man’s aspirations toward the absolute, the eternal. It demonstrates the somewhat mystical romanticism which lay concealed in Turgénieff’s nature, and only occasionally came to the light.

In selecting the tales that form this volume, the foremost place has been allotted to two romances of Death, “The Fall of the House of Usher” and “ Ligeia”. The latter was considered by Poe himself the finest of all his tales, and in a well-known letter to Lowell he places close beside it "The Fall of the House of Usher”. In both, his singular genius finds full expression. They are followed by two old-world romances, laid in Rome and Venice, rich in color and subtly varied atmosphere, and vibrating with passion.

Poe’s character is the most complex which has yet appeared among American writers, and his genius is the most elusive and individual. He fills a very considerable place in our literary development, and yet, in important aspects of his career, he seems to have been entirely detached from it. His genius is no longer questioned, nor is his influence; and yet his impress on the spiritual life of the country is hardly perceptible.

Historians, even historians of philosophy, have tended to dismiss Stoicism lightly, and popular opinion has taken the cue. No doubt, relevant reasons abound. The riches of Socrates, Democritus, Plato, and Aristotle served to accentuate the comparative poverty of the next age.

An account of the Tulsa race riot of 1921 in which White people attacked and murdered Black residents in the Greenwood neighborhood burning and looting. Includes a collection of shorter witness testimonials and a partial list of property and financial losses of its victims.

This epic narrative poem focuses on the days after the end of the Civil War through the fall of 1877, describing the leaders and events of the Indian Wars, including Red Cloud, Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, Dull Knife, Spotted Tail, the Fetterman Massacre, the Wagon Box Incident, and the Battle of Little Big Horn.

You never saw a tree; you have seen some particular kind of tree. We know practically nothing about the essential element in trees, the life in them - the souls in them that make them what they are.

With all the authority obtained at the cost of numberless sacrifices, firm in his belief, justified by six years' experience, Bolivar expresses once more the same fundamental ideas of the Manifesto of Cartagena and the Kingston Letter. This is a decisive moment for the fate of the young nation.

This history was written by Frank James himself, at odd times, during his latter years and was, two years before his death, entrusted to his daughter, Mrs. Sarah E. Snow, of Wayton, Ark., with his request that it be kept a secret until after he had passed away, after which, it was his desire that it be published to the world, and his identity disclosed, in order that the world might learn some of the true facts concerning the whys and wherefores leading up to, and the causes which forced these two brothers into outlawry.

I rather anticipate that superficial critics who do not like the argument of this essay will accuse it of pessimism, a charge which perhaps means little more than that they do not like it. If it is called "pessimism" to point out the methods by which men may escape destruction, because men do not care to adopt them, I suppose it must be "optimism" to rush violently and open-eyed down a precipice, and to expect to be saved by a miracle. Certainly such would appear to be the belief upon which human affairs are at present conducted.

We are face to face with this great world, and our relations to it are manifold. One of these is the necessity we have to live, to till the soil, to gather food, to clothe ourselves, to get materials from nature. We are always making things that will satisfy our needs, always in touch with this great world through hunger and thirst. Then, we have our mind; and our mind seeks its own food. It must find out reason in things, faced with a multiplicity of facts, and bewildered when it cannot find one unifying principle which simplifies the heterogeneity of things.

"Youth" was not my first contribution to Maga. It was the second. But that story marks the first appearance in the world of the man Marlow, with whom my relations have grown very intimate in the course of years. The origins of that gentleman (nobody as far as I know had ever hinted that he was anything but that) - his origins have been the subject of some literary speculation of, I am glad to say, a friendly nature.

Life is wonderfully simple. One efficient energy or spirit permeates all that exists. A few universal laws characterise this energy in all phases of its infinitely varied manifestation. To feel this spirit as a living reality within, to understand these simple laws and adapt life to wise obedience to them - this it is to possess the greatest peace, happiness, and power of doing good. The entire secret could be told in a few words...

In the present age both Church and Science, the blindly-believing and the all-denying, are arrayed against the Secret Sciences, though Church and Science believed in and practised them - especially the Kabalah - at a not very distant period of history. One says now: “It is of the devil”! the other that the devil is a creation of the Church, and a disgraceful superstition ”in short that there is neither devil nor occult sciences. The first one forgets that it has publicly proclaimed, hardly 400 years ago, the Jewish Kabalah as the greatest witness to the truths of Christianity!

Democritus. Bring the Stranger, bring the Stranger. Let us see how he is put together. I smell one goodish ingredient, but the compound is newfangled, yes {sniffing), and ill mixed. Alcihiades. You can’t possibly scent him at this distance. Not even a dog could. For a Christian he is rather well washed. Democritus. Before you contradict an old man, my fair friend, you should endeavor to understand him. The Stranger might be as clean as a river-god, who cannot live out of running water, and I should not be prevented from discerning the odor of his thoughts.

When we turn our attention to the subject of elemental Intelligences or Nature-Spirits, we are confronted by this immediate difficulty, that we are led at the very beginning beyond and behind the world which we know through the channels of the senses. Sense perception does not help us at all in our study of that mysterious realm of life which constitutes the invisible background of physical manifestation. Madame Blavatsky warned us long ago that to describe Nature-Spirits or Elementals as having definite and corporeal form was likely to lead into great error.

Living in close contact with Hinduism, Buddhism, Muhammadanism, and Christianity, I have studied their sacred books and the writings of their leading thinkers; while, from personal conversation with many of their learned followers, I have been able to extract much information regarding their faiths. The results of my thinking on these four great religions I have set down in this book.

The best of Twain's wit in 20 stories or anecdotes related to various critters, varmits, and such. Many of these are from his travels out west, including to Hawaii, in addition to a few found in in other titles and from his many newspaper articles.

This little book appeals, perhaps, to the Eastern rather than to the Western type of mind, but so many souls trained in the East are now being reincarnated in the West that it may find friendly [listeners] away from the land of its birth. Addressed to a purely Hindu audience, the lectures contain many common Samskrit words, familiar to every Hindu, that may sound strange in the ears of [listeners] of other faiths

This overlooked work of Lawrence contains both beautiful descriptions of his travels in Italy during this period as well as a thoroughly engrossing portrait of a man, M, who he meets and can't quite get away from for months until the end. This true story grabs at you on several levels. Originally published as the introduction to M's work, Memoirs of the Foreign Legion, it stands on its own.