THE WATER-LILY. THE GOLD-SPINNERSONCE upon a time, in a large forest, there lived an oldwoman and three maidens. They were all three beautiful,but the youngest was the fairest. Their hut was quitehidden by trees, and none saw their beauty but the sunby day, and the moon by night, and the eyes of the stars.The old woman kept the girls hard at work, from morningtill night, spinning gold flax into yarn, and when onedistaff was empty another was given them, so they hadno rest. The thread had to be fine and even, and whendone was locked up in a secret chamber by the old woman,who twice or thrice every summer went a journey.Before she went she gave out work for each day of her...
THE DECAMERONby Boccaccio GiovanniTHE INDUCTION OF THE AUTHOR TO THE FOLLOWING DISCOURSESGracious Ladies, so often as I consider with my selfe, and observerespectively, how naturally you are enclined to compassion; as manytimes doe I acknowledge, that this present worke of mine, will (inyour judgement) appeare to have but a harsh and offensive beginning,in regard of the mournfull remembrance it beareth at the verieentrance of the last Pestilentiall mortality, universally hurtfullto all that beheld it, or otherwise came to knowledge of it. But forall that, I desire it may not be so dreadfull to you, to hinder your...
OWL POSTHarry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And he also happened to be a wizard.It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, the blankets drawn right over his head like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large leather-bound book (A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against the pillow. Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, "Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Ce
JACK LIGHTS OUTCHAPTER 1The Alhambra Inn and Gardens1 On September 15th, 1981, a boy named Jack Sawyer stood where the water and land e together, hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking out at the steady Atlantic. He was twelve years old and tall for his age. The sea-breeze swept back his brown hair, probably too long, from a fine, clear brow. He stood there, filled with the confused and painful emotions he had lived with for the last three months-since the time when his mother had closed their house on Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles and, in a flurry of furniture, checks, and real-estate agents, rented an apartment on Central Park West. From that apartment they had fled to this quiet res
STORIESSTORIESBy English Authors in Germany1- Page 2-STORIESTHE BIRD ON ITS JOURNEYBY BEATRICE HARRADENIt was about four in the afternoon when a young girl came into thesalon of the little hotel at C in Switzerland, and drew her chair up to thefire."You are soaked through," said an elderly lady, who was herself tryingto get roasted. "You ought to lose no time in changing your clothes.""I have not anything to change," said the young girl, laughing. "Oh, I...
William Blake "Nature does not premeditate; she does not use mathematics; she does not deliberately produce whole patterns, she lets whole patterns produce themselves. Nature does what nature demands; she is beyond blame and responsibility." Peter S. StevensPatterns in NatureOne Sunday, November 23 Paradise, Pennsylvania 3:00 a.m. The thing Boonie loved most about dumping off Black Bridge was how altogether goddam convenient it was. Take, for example, the traveling time. Even with miniature minefields of ice booby-trapping the backroads of Hellam, he figured ten minutes tops in the old Dodge truck to hump a full load of barrels from there to here....
LUCY LOOKS INTO A WARDROBE ONCE there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. This story is about something that happened to them when they were sent away from London during the war because of the air-raids. They were sent to the house of an old Professor who lived in the heart of the country, ten miles from the nearest railway station and two miles from the nearest post office. He had no wife and he lived in a very large house with a housekeeper called Mrs Macready and three servants. (Their names were Ivy, Margaret and Betty, but they do not e into the story much.) He himself was a very old man with shaggy white hair which grew over most of his face as we
Book One Chapter 01 Behind every great fortune there is a crime. BALZAC Amerigo Bonasera sat in New York Criminal Court Number 3 and waited for justice; vengeance on the men who had so cruelly hurt his daughter, who had tried to dishonor her. The judge, a formidably heavy-featured man, rolled up the sleeves of his black robe as if to physically chastise the two young men standing before the bench. His face was cold with majestic contempt. But there was something false in all this that Amerigo Bonasera sensed but did not yet understand. "You acted like the worst kind of degenerates," the judge said harshly. Yes, yes, thought Amerigo Bonasera. Animals. Animals. The two young men, glossy
BruceBruceAlbert Payson Terhune1- Page 2-BruceWho are far wiser in their way and far better in every way, than I; andyet who have not the wisdom to know it Who do not merely think I amperfect, but who are calmly and permanently convinced of my perfection;--and this in spite of fifty disillusions a day Who are frantically happy atmy coming and bitterly woebegone in my absence Who never bore me andnever are bored by me Who never talk about themselves and who alwayslisten with rapturous interest to anything I may say Who, having no...
Lectures XVI and XVIIMYSTICISMOver and over again in these lectures I have raised points andleft them open and unfinished until we should have come to thesubject of Mysticism. Some of you, I fear, may have smiled asyou noted my reiterated postponements. But now the hour has comewhen mysticism must be faced in good earnest, and those brokenthreads wound up together. One may say truly, I think, thatpersonal religious experience has its root and centre in mysticalstates of consciousness; so for us, who in these lectures aretreating personal experience as the exclusive subject of our...
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENTHE BISHOP OF BORGLUM AND HIS WARRIORSby Hans Christian AndersenOUR scene is laid in Northern Jutland, in the so-called "wildmoor." We hear what is called the "Wester-wow-wow"- the peculiarroar of the North Sea as it breaks against the western coast ofJutland. It rolls and thunders with a sound that penetrates formiles into the land; and we are quite near the roaring. Before usrises a great mound of sand- a mountain we have long seen, and towardswhich we are wending our way, driving slowly along through the deepsand. On this mountain of sand is a lofty old building- the convent of...
Letters to His Son, 1766-71by The Earl of ChesterfieldLETTERS TO HIS SONBy the EARL OF CHESTERFIELDon the Fine Art of becoming aMAN OF THE WORLDand aGENTLEMANLETTER CCLXXXIVLONDON, February 11, 1766MY DEAR FRIEND: I received two days ago your letter of the 25th past;and your former, which you mention in it, but ten days ago; this mayeasily be accounted for from the badness of the weather, and consequentlyof the roads. I hardly remember so severe a win ter; it has occasioned...