(Excerpt): "They look so dull and dowdy in the spring weather, when the snow drops and the crocuses are putting on their dainty frocks of white and mauve and yellow, and the baby-buds from every branch are peeping with bright eyes out on the world, and stretching forth soft little leaves toward the coming gladness of their lives. They stand apart, so cold and hard amid the stirring hope and joy that are throbbing all around them."

At a young age, author Jerome K. Jerome found a hobby that he was extremely skilled at, and very passionate about-idleness. He was thrilled at the amount of time he could waste doing nothing, frustrating those around him. However, when Jerome falls ill and is ordered to bedrest, this hobby is tested. Then, he learns that doing nothing is only fun when you have other commitments. This relatable sentiment is explored in the title essay of Idle Thoughts...

A decade after their wild boat ride adventure on the Thames river, J, Harris, and George reunite for another vacation. Older, richer, and fatter, but not wiser, the three men stumble through mishaps and surprises as they journey to Germany. First saying their goodbyes, J and Harris seek the approval of their wives, worried about leaving their kids. Their wives are supportive, secretly considering their husbands' trip from home as a vacation for themselves...

A really intriguing short story about the lives of three couples in their forties, who are given the chance to go back through time, at the age of 20, with the knowledge of the future. What would a young person do, knowing that following his instinct would most probably lead to his wretchedness? How does one differentiate between reality and dream? How frightened is one, knowingly deciding to take the same steps in life the second time as he did the...

(Excerpt): "The most extraordinary dream I ever had was one in which I fancied that, as I was going into a theater, the cloak-room attendant stopped me in the lobby and insisted on my leaving my legs behind me. I was not surprised; indeed, my acquaintanceship with theater harpies would prevent my feeling any surprise at such a demand, even in my waking moments; but I was, I must honestly confess, considerably annoyed. It was not the payment of the...

(Excerpt): "Kindness," argued little Mrs. Pennycoop, "costs nothing." "And, speaking generally, my dear, is valued precisely at cost price," retorted Mr. Pennycoop, who, as an auctioneer of twenty years' experience, had enjoyed much opportunity of testing the attitude of the public towards sentiment. "I don't care what you say, George," persisted his wife; "he may be a disagreeable, cantankerous old brute-I don't say he isn't. All the same, the man...