“Political language — and with variations this is true of all political parties, from Conservatives to Anarchists — is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.”

An anonymous essay on time spent in “protective custody” at a Nazi camp.

A six-day hoax in which the newspaper fooled its readers into believing that life had been found on the moon.

Jane Jacobs has a somewhat ambiguous legacy—or at least one that’s contested by different factions in the present-day debate over cities and urbanism—but to me her most important idea is encapsulated in the title and spirit of this piece. It’s old and, I think, utterly prescient about what successive waves of planning fads miss. The purpose of urban space is for people to use it. A great place is a place where people want to be.

-M. Yglesias

“Opium does not deprive you of your senses. It does not make a madman of you. But drink does. See? Who ever heard of a man committing murder when full of hop. Get him full of whiskey and he might kill his father.”

A journey into New York’s turn-of-the-century opium dens to find out who gets hooked and why.

The On the Waterfront screenwriter visits Dartmouth College on the occasion of its annual “30-ring circus that makes Ringling Brothers look like a two-wagon job on a vacant lot in Sapulpa.”

On touring America and the culture of trailer parks in the early 1950s.

The most dreadful men to live with are those who thus alternate between angel and devil.

Not long before she died, Anne Isabella Noel Byron gave a wide-ranging interview to the author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Most notoriously, she accused her husband, Lord Byron, of carrying on a “secret adulterous intrigue” with his half-sister.

The Atlantic lost 15,000 subscribers in the months following publication of this article.

Ida Tarbell’s classic write-around of the world’s only billionaire:

He was a silent boy — a silent young man. With years the habit of silence became the habit of concealment. It was not long after the Standard Oil Company was founded, before it was said in Cleveland that its offices were the most difficult in the town to enter, Mr. Rockefeller the most difficult man to see. If a stranger got in to see any one he was anxious. “Who is that man?” he asked an associate nervously one day, calling him away when the latter was chatting with a stranger. “An old friend, Mr. Rockefeller.” “What does he want here? Be careful. Don’t let him find out anything.” “But he is my friend, Mr. Rockefeller. He does not want to know anything. He has come to see me.” “You never can tell. Be very careful, very careful.” This caution gradually developed into a Chinese wall of seclusion. This suspicion extended, not only to all outsiders but most insiders. Nobody in the Standard Oil Company was allowed to know any more than was necessary for him to know to do his business. Men who have been officers in the Standard Oil Company say that they have been told, when asking for information about the condition of the business, “You’d better not know. If you know nothing you can tell nothing.”

Joseph Mitchell immerses himself in the Fulton Fish Market.

THEY SAY YOU never hear the one that hits you. That’s true of bullets, because, if you hear them, they are already past. But your correspondent heard the last shell that hit this hotel. He heard it start from the battery, then come with a whistling incommg roar like a subway train to crash against the cornice and shower the room with broken glass and plaster. And while the glass still tinkled down and you listened for the next one to start, you realized that now finally you were back in Madrid.

On Jews:

The Jews are happy in the United States. There are now two hundred congregations of them here, half of whom have arrived within the last twelve years. They are good citizens, firmly attached to those liberal principles to which they owe their deliverance from degrading and oppressive laws, and are rising in the esteem of the people among whom they dwell. Their attachment to the system of universal education is hereditary; it dates back three thousand years; and though their religious feelings are wounded by the opening exercises of many public schools, they would not for that reason destroy them.