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Habits Of A Literary Man

Bill Nye

The editor of an Eastern health magazine, having asked for information relative to the habits, hours of work, and style and frequency of feed adopted by literary men, and several parties having responded who were no more essentially saturated with literature than I am, I now take my pen in hand to reveal the true inwardness of my literary life, so that boys, who may yearn to follow in my footsteps and wear a laurel wreath the year round in place of a hat, may know what the personal habits of a literary party are.

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The Dog Noble And The Empty Hole

Anonymous

The first summer which we spent in Lenox we had along a very intelligent dog, named Noble. He was learned in many things, and by his dog-lore excited the undying admiration of all the children. But there were some things which Noble could never learn. Having on one occasion seen a red squirrel run into a hole in a stone wall, he could not be persuaded that he was not there forevermore.

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The Old Man And The Road

Costin Nițu

The old man drove fast and bold, through towns and landscapes and dreams, in sickness and in health, never caring, never stopping, the intrepid explorer of the world, until one fateful day in Panama, when he could progress no more.

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The Plymouth Colony

Bill Nye

In the fall of 1620 the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth during a disagreeable storm, and, noting the excellent opportunity for future misery, began to erect a number of rude cabins. This party consisted of one hundred and two people of a resolute character who wished to worship God in a more extemporaneous manner than had been the custom in the Church of England.

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One Better

Anonymous

Long after the victories of Washington over the French and English had made his name familiar to all Europe, Doctor Franklin chanced to dine with the English and French Ambassadors, when, as nearly as the precise words can be recollected, the following toasts were drunk:

“England—The Sun, whose bright beams enlighten and fructify the remotest corners of the earth.”

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Charlie

Dorothy Parker

It’s curious, but no one seems to be able to recall what Charlie used to talk about before the country went what may be called, with screaming effect, dry.

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A New God Is Born

Costin Nițu

The spirit could not be vanquished in the furnace, for it is the spirit of brave men of the south.

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My School Days

Bill Nye

Looking over my own school days, there are so many things that I would rather not tell, that it will take very little time and space for me to use in telling what I am willing that the carping public should know about my early history.

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How Men Become Gay

Costin Nițu

So you see Mr. Peterson, it’s this heterogeneous ribonucleoprotein that turns men gay. I call it the homo protein – but don’t quote me on that, please. I have enough problems as it is.

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The Sabbath Of A Great Author

Bill Nye

I awake at an unearthly hour on Sunday morning, after which I turn over and go to sleep again. This second, or beauty sleep, I find to be almost invaluable. I do it also with much more earnestness and expression than that in the earlier part of the night. All the other people in the house gradually wake up as I begin to get in my more fancy strokes.

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Halloween Blackface

Costin Nițu

If I were living in America I would dress up as a minstrel from the 19th century for Halloween, blackface and all.

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An English Funeral

William Austin

The most humorous sight which I have seen was an English funeral, performed in the most fashionable manner; for you must know they perform funerals here.

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Freddie

Dorothy Parker

“Oh, boy!” people say of Freddie. “You just ought to meet him some time! He’s a riot, that’s what he is—more fun than a goat.”

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On Cyclones

Bill Nye

I desire to state that my position as United States cyclonist for this judicial district is now vacant. I resigned on the 9th day of September, A.D. 1884.

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