Kahéle patronized me extensively. I was introduced to camp after camp, and in rapid succession repeated the experiences of a traveler who has much to answer for in the way of colour, and the peculiar cut of his garments. I felt as though I was some natural curiosity, in charge of the robustious Kahéle, who waxed more and more officious every hour of his engagement; and his tongue ran riot as he descanted upon my characteristics, to the joy of the curious audiences we attracted …. The boy sat near me, still descanting upon our late experiences, our possible future, and the thousand trivial occurrences that make the recollections of travel forever charming.

[T]his duty of doing one’s proper work well, and taking care that every product of one’s labour shall be genuinely what it pretends to be, is not only left out of morals in popular speech, it is very little insisted on by public teachers …. Some of them seem to be still hopeful that it will follow as a necessary consequence from week-day services, ecclesiastical decoration, and improved hymn-books; others apparently trust to descanting on self-culture in general, or to raising a general sense of faulty circumstances; and meanwhile lax, make-shift work, from the high conspicuous kind to the average and obscure, is allowed to pass unstamped with the disgrace of immorality.

One of the great paradoxes of modern science is that scientists can speak with more confidence about supernovas, neutron stars and the first moments of cosmic creation than they can about what is going on in their own skulls. Humanities scholars should not ignore science or reject it in kneejerk fashion, but neither should they kowtow to it.

If you lived anywhere near New York City, you knew Jimmy Breslin. What made Breslin stand out was his blue-collar point of view. He was dogged in chasing a story. He didn’t kowtow to the powerful, and he often thought about how class and privilege might influence a narrative.

[I]n Western culture, the scarf is most prominently known for its use as a fashion accessory, one that first gained widespread popularity in the 19th century. The fichu is a typical 18th- and 19th-century style that can be seen as the forerunner of modern scarves. A piece of fabric worn lightly draped on the upper chest and usually knotted in front, it provided modest covering but was also an opportunity to add an especially fine textile–sometimes lace edged or embroidered–to an ensemble.

From time to time one heard the crack of a whip behind the hedge; then the gates opened, a chaise entered. Galloping up to the foot of the steps, it stopped short and emptied its load. They got down from all sides, rubbing knees and stretching arms. The ladies, wearing bonnets, had on dresses in the town fashion, gold watch chains, pelerines with the ends tucked into belts, or little coloured fichus fastened down behind with a pin, and that left the back of the neck bare.