The Danger in Dreams Thomas Covenant was talking in his sleep. At times he knew what he was doing; the broken pieces of his voice penetrated his stupor dimly, like flickers of innocence. But he could not rouse himself-the weight of his exhaustion was too great. He babbled like millions of people before him, whole or ill, true or false. But in his case there was no one to hear. He would not have been more alone if he had been the last dreamer left alive. When the shrill demand of the phone cut through him, he woke up wailing. For a moment after he threw himself upright in bed, he could not distinguish between the phone and his own flat terror; both echoed like torment through the
A Millionaire of Rough-and-Readyby Bret HartePROLOGUEThere was no mistake this time: he had struck gold at last!It had lain there before him a moment agoa misshapen piece ofbrown-stained quartz, interspersed with dull yellow metal; yieldingenough to have allowed the points of his pick to penetrate itshoneycombed recesses, yet heavy enough to drop from the point ofhis pick as he endeavored to lift it from the red earth.He was seeing all this plainly, although he found himself, he knewnot why, at some distance from the scene of his discovery, hisheart foolishly beating, his breath impotently hurried. Yet he waswalking slowly and vaguely; conscious of stopping and staring at...
A Plea for Captain John Brownby Henry David Thoreau[Read to the citizens of Concord, Mass., Sunday Evening, October 30, 1859.]I trust that you will pardon me for being here. I do not wish toforce my thoughts upon you, but I feel forced myself. Little as Iknow of Captain Brown, I would fain do my part to correct the toneand the statements of the newspapers, and of my countrymen generally,respecting his character and actions. It costs us nothing to bejust. We can at least express our sympathy with, and admirationof, him and his companions, and that is what I now propose to do.First, as to his history. I will endeavor to omit, as much...
The Captivesby Hugh WalpoleTOARNOLD BENNETTWITH DEEP AFFECTION"I confess that I do not see why the very existence of an invisible world may not in part depend on the personal response which any of us may make to the religious appeal. God Himself, in short, may draw vital strength and increase of very being from our fidelity. For my own part I do not know what the sweat and blood and tragedy of this life mean, if they mean anything short of this. If this life be not a real fight, in which something is eternally gained for the universe by success, it is no better than a game of private theatricals from which one may withdraw at will. But it feels like a real fightas if there were something re
Flip: A California Romanceby Bret HarteCHAPTER IJust where the track of the Los Gatos road streams on and upwardlike the sinuous trail of a fiery rocket until it is extinguishedin the blue shadows of the Coast Range, there is an embayed terracenear the summit, hedged by dwarf firs. At every bend of the heat-laden road the eye rested upon it wistfully; all along the flank ofthe mountain, which seemed to pant and quiver in the oven-like air,through rising dust, the slow creaking of dragging wheels, themonotonous cry of tired springs, and the muffled beat of plunginghoofs, it held out a promise of sheltered coolness and green...
History Of The Mackenziesby Alexander MackenziePREFACETHE ORIGINAL EDITION of this work appeared in 1879, fifteen years ago. It was well received by the press, by the clan, and by all interested in the history of the Highlands. The best proof of this is the fact that the book has for several years been out of print, occasional second-hand copies of it coming into the market selling at a high premium on the original subscription price.Personally, however, I was never satisfied with it. It was my first clan history, and to say nothing of inevitable defects of style by a comparatively inexperienced hand, it was for several other reasons necessarily incomplete, and in many respects
Little Peggy was very careful with the eggs. She rooted her hand through the straw till her fingers bumped something hard and heavy. She gave no never mind to the chicken drips. After all, when folk with babies stayed at the roadhouse, Mama never even crinkled her face at their most spetackler diapers. Even when the chicken drips were wet and stringy and made her fingers stick together, little Peggy gave no never mind. She just pushed the straw apart, wrapped her hand around the egg, and lifted it out of the brood box. All this while standing tiptoe on a wobbly stool, reaching high above her head. Mama said she was too young for egging, but little Peggy showed her. Every day she felt in
1. Fingers of lightning tore holes in the black skies as an angry cloudburst drenched the surrealistic landscape. It was 3 A.M. on a cold, wet morning in late November 1967. and the little houses scattered along the dirt road winding through the hills of West Virginia were all dark. Some seemed unoccupied and in the final stages of decay. Others were unpainted, neglected, forlorn. The whole setting was like the opening scene of a Grade B horror film from the 1930s. Along the road there came a stranger in a land where strangers were rare and suspect. He walked up to the door of a crumbling farmhouse and hammered. After a long moment a light blinked on somewhere in the house and a
The French Revolution, Volume 1.The Origins of Contemporary France, Volume 2by Hippolyte A. TaineCONTENTS:ANARCHYPREFACEBOOK FIRST. Spontaneous Anarchy.CHAPTER I. The Beginnings of AnarchyCHAPTER II. Paris up to the 14th of JulyCHAPTER III. Anarchy from July 14th to October 6th, 1789CHAPTER IV. PARISBOOK SECOND. The constituent Assembly, and the Result of its LaborsCHAPTER I. The Constituent AssemblyCHAPTER II. The DamageCHAPTER III. The Constructions - The Constitution of 1791....
360 BCPHAEDOby Platotranslated by Benjamin JowettPERSONS OF THE DIALOGUEPHAEDO, who is the narrator of the dialogue to ECHECRATES of PhliusSOCRATESAPOLLODORUSSIMMIASCEBESCRITOATTENDANT OF THE PRISONPHAEDOSCENE: The Prison of SocratesPLACE OF THE NARRATION: PhliusEchecrates. Were you yourself, Phaedo, in the prison with Socrateson the day when he drank the poison?Phaedo. Yes, Echecrates, I was.Ech. I wish that you would tell me about his death. What did he...
Manaliveby G. K. ChestertonTable of ContentsPart I: The Enigmas of Innocent SmithI. How the Great Wind Came to Beacon HouseII. The Luggage of an OptimistIII. The Banner of BeaconIV. The Garden of the GodV. The Allegorical Practical JokerPart II: The Explanations of Innocent SmithI. The Eye of Death; or, the Murder ChargeII. The Two Curates; or, the Burglary ChargeIII. The Round Road; or, the Desertion ChargeIV. The Wild Weddings; or, the Polygamy ChargeV. How the Great Wind went from Beacon House...
The Sorrows of Young Wertherby J.W. von GoetheTranslated by Thomas Carlyle and R.D. BoylanPREFACEI have carefully collected whatever I have been able to learn ofthe story of poor Werther, and here present it to you, knowingthat you will thank me for it. To his spirit and character youcannot refuse your admiration and love: to his fate you will notdeny your tears.And thou, good soul, who sufferest the same distress as he enduredonce, draw comfort from his sorrows; and let this little book bethy friend, if, owing to fortune or through thine own fault, thoucanst not find a dearer companion.BOOK IMAY 4.How happy I am that I am gone! My dear friend, what a thing is...