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Updated: July 24, 2025
He tore it very slowly, tore it again and again into ribbons and into squares, and let them flutter into his wastebasket.... If others had been present to assert that they heard a groan he would not have denied it, for the ancestors were very real to him then... their presence was a definite fact. "There..." he said. The king was dead. Long live the king!
Even simple exercises, when put into book form, take on a dignity otherwise impossible and seem more worth while. It is impossible to work with much enthusiasm and care on exercises which are destined only for the wastebasket. The chief value in the making of booklets is lost when they are made for display purposes only.
The woman dumped a wastebasket of varied rubbish into the open fire, leaned a broom against the mantel, readjusted the towel that protected her gray hair from the dust hair on week days exposed with never a qualm to all manner of dust cursed all Chinamen on land or sea with an especial and piquant blight invoked upon the one now in hiding, then took from the back of a chair where she had hung it the moment before a riding skirt come to feebleness and decrepitude.
The association referred the paper to the editor of the "Mathematical Monthly," by whom it was, I believe, consigned to the wastebasket. The result was a good deal of correspondence, such a proceeding being rather humiliating to a man of eminence who had addressed so distinguished an assembly.
Orville fussed around, even looking into the wastebasket, and turning up a corner of a large rug as if ferreting for evidence. The others exhibited no such minute curiosity, and, after a few moments, they followed the coroner out of the room.
Then she returned to her work and rolled the paper up into a very small ball and dropped it into the big wastebasket, and pushed it down with a small, neat oxford-tied foot. Then she went to the window again restlessly, looked out with caution, as if there might be more soldiers crossing the street, and they might spring at her.
After disposing of the larger chunks, he used the chisel to chop off one of the prawn's mandibles to use as a pick to get at the less accessible morsels. When he had finished, he licked his fingers clean and started back to the armchair. "No." Jack pointed at the prawn shell. "Wastebasket." "Yeek?" "Wastebasket." Little Fuzzy gathered up the bits of shell, putting them where they belonged.
His paper was a much-crumpled piece that he had found that morning in the wastebasket, and as yet his writing and spelling were poor enough, but he knew what he wanted to express, and this is what he wrote: DEAR BISHOP: I hav ben mene and bad i am not def and dum but i acted like i was caus I thot you wood not kepe me if yu knu I am sory now so i am going away but i am going to kepe strate and not bee bad any more ever.
The following morning I had the satisfaction of hearing from old Jacklin, the jailer, that Womber, the owner of the warehouse, had himself gone before the grand jury and informed them that he did not wish to press the charge of burglary against us.... Womber, Jacklin said, had received my letter and at first had tossed it aside ... even thrown it contemptuously into the wastebasket.
"That is perfectly inexcusable. There are hours and hours of work on that, and I have not a doubt but that it was good work." "Simple case of mechanism," said Peter, reducing the bits to smaller size and dropping them into the empty nail keg that served as his wastebasket. "A lifeless thing without a soul, mere clockwork. I have got the idea now. I am to build a bridge and make a road.
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