I didn't read your books. I licked them, I rubbed them all over my naked body and licked them. Protasov, detached and idealistic, wants only to immerse himself in chemical experiments to perfect mankind. He's more or less oblivious to the voracious advances of the half-crazed widow Melaniya and his best friend's unrelenting pursuit of his wife, let alone the cholera epidemic and the starving mob at his gates. While Nanny fusses round, Protasov's admiring circle, variously skeptical, romantic and lovesick, spar over culture and the cosmos. Only Liza, neurotic and patronized, feels the suffering of the peasantry and senses that their own privileged world is in jeopardy.** Gone? They're everywhere. Have you heard about the riots? The starvation and the flagrant disregard of authority. This disregard is building walls and barriers between us all. And they are massing. The crowds of angry people. And the hate... the hate between us all... kills everything. Written during the abortive Russian Revolution of 1905, Maxim Gorky's darkly comic Children of the Sun depicts the new middle-class, foolish perhaps but likeable, as they flounder around, philosophizing, yearning, or scuttling between test tubes, blind to their impending annihilation. This is Andrew Upton's fourth English version of a play for the National by one of the great Russian masters, including his acclaimed adaptation of Gorky's Philistines.

When you're in your late twenties and nothing in your life seems to be falling into place, knitting is an awfully seductive way to spend your free time. After all, as long as you're following the instructions, you can knit row after row with the knowledge that the pattern will emerge and you'll end up with just what you wanted. Life, on the other hand, doesn't come with a stitch counter, so Kathleen, Sari, and Lucy, the heroines of KNITTING UNDER THE INFLUENCE, just have to figure things out as they go along. Their weekly Sunday knitting circle is the only thing holding them together as Kathleen is cut off financially by her family and forced to enter `the real world' for the very first time at the age of twenty-seven, Sari finds herself falling for the man who made her life a living hell in high school but who now desperately needs her help, and Lucy finds herself torn between emotion and reason when her lab and her boyfriend are assailed by an animal-rights group. At their club meetings, they discuss the really important questions: how bad is it, really, to marry for money if you like the guy a lot anyway? Can you ever forgive someone for something truly atrocious that they've done? Is it better to be unhappily coupled than happily alone? And the little ones: Can you wear a bra with a hand-knit tube top? Is it ever acceptable to knit something for a boyfriend? And why do your stitches become lopsided after your second martini? In Claire LaZebnik's hilarious and sometimes heartbreaking novel, Sari, Lucy, and Kathleen's lives intersect, overlap, unravel, and come back together-the result is an utterly satisfying read.

In The Road to Lichfield, Penelope Lively explores the nature of history and memory as it is embodied in the life of a forty-year-old woman, Anne Linton, who unexpectedly learns that her father had a mistress. With this new knowledge, Linton must now examine the realities of her own life - of her childhood, her husband - and ask, What do they really know of her? Deeply felt, beautifully controlled, The Road to Lichfield is a subtle exploration of memory and identity, of chance and consequence, of the intricate weave of generations across a past never fully known, a future never fully anticipated.

Aranthur is a student. He showed a little magical talent, is studying at the local academy, and is nothing particularly special. Others are smarter. Others are more talented. Others are quicker to pick up techniques. But none of them are with him when he breaks his journey home for the holidays in an inn. None of them step in to help when a young woman is thrown off a passing stage coach into the deep snow at the side of the road. And none of them are drawn into a fight to protect her. One of the others might have realised she was manipulating him all along . . . A powerful story about beginnings, coming of age, and the way choosing to take one step towards violence can lead to a slippery and dangerous slope, this is an accomplished fantasy series driven by strong characters and fast-paced action.

Relive Jane Austen's Emma- from Mr. Knightley's point of view. Between managing his estate and visiting his brother in London, Mr. Knightley is both exasperated and amused by his irresistibly beautiful, outrageously mischievous neighbor, Emma Woodhouse, whose misguided attempts at matchmaking are wreaking havoc in the village of Highbury. But when a handsome newcomer arrives and catches Emma's attention, Mr. Knightley is shocked by his reaction. Amusement gives way to another emotion entirely-for his unreasonable dislike of the handsome newcomer seems suspiciously like jealousy.

I come from a family of fighters. I always thought I’d follow in their shadows, becoming unstoppable in the ring. That changed the day I saved the life of a woman I loved, but could never have. My brother hailed me as a hero, and my reward was a wheelchair. Paralyzed, my life became an inescapable nightmare. Until I met her. Ash Mabie had a heart-stopping smile and a laugh that numbed the rage and resentment brewing inside of me. She showed me that even the darkest night still had stars, and it didn’t matter one bit that you had to lie in the weeds to see them. I was a jaded asshole who fell for a girl with a knack for running away. I couldn’t even walk but I would have spent a lifetime chasing her. Now, I’m on the ropes during the toughest battles of my life. Fighting the shadows of our past. Fighting to reclaim my future. Fighting for her.

The Impossible Voyage Home is presented here in a high quality paperback edition. This popular classic work by F. L. (Floyd L.) Wallace is in the English language, and may not include graphics or images from the original edition. If you enjoy the works of F. L. (Floyd L.) Wallace then we highly recommend this publication for your book collection.

Frederick Sadleir Brereton was a decorated soldier and an author of children's books on heroic deeds conducted in the name of the British Empire.

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

Mimi at Sheridan School

Laura Jean Libbey, was an American writer. The highly popular author of fiction, her works were what became known as dime novels. Today they would be categorised as formulaic romance novels. In 1898, at the age of 36, she married a lawyer.

This book is part of the TREDITION CLASSICS series. The creators of this series are united by passion for literature and driven by the intention of making all public domain books available in printed format again - worldwide. At tredition we believe that a great book never goes out of style. Several mostly non-profit literature projects provide content to tredition. To support their good work, tredition donates a portion of the proceeds from each sold copy. As a reader of a TREDITION CLASSICS book, you support our mission to save many of the amazing works of world literature from oblivion

Madeline Brandeis was an American author who wrote a series of popular kids books in the early 20th century, including the "Children of America" and "Children of All Lands" series. --This text refers to the Paperback edition. --This text refers to the Paperback edition.

It is not improbable that some of those who read this book, may feel a wish to know in what manner I became possessed of the manuscript. Such a desire is too just and natural to be thwarted, and the tale shall be told as briefly as possible. During the summer of 1828, while travelling among those valleys of Switzerland which lie between the two great ranges of the Alps, and in which both the Rhone and the Rhine take their rise, I had passed from the sources of the latter to those of the former river, and had reached that basin in the mountains that is so celebrated for containing the glacier of the Rhone, when chance gave me one of those rare moments of sublimity and solitude, which are the more precious in the other hemisphere from their infrequency.

The Scouts of Stonewall - The Story of the Great Valley Campaign is presented here in a high quality paperback edition. This popular classic work by Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander) Altsheler is in the English language, and may not include graphics or images from the original edition. If you enjoy the works of Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander) Altsheler then we highly recommend this publication for your book collection.

CHAPTER I THE MOATED GRANGE “Here they are!” “Not really!” “It is, I tell you!” “Jubilate! You’re right, old sport! Scooterons-nous this very sec! Quick! Hurry! Stir your old bones, can’t you?” The two girls, who had been standing in the ruined watch-tower that spanned the gateway, tore down the broken corkscrew staircase at a speed calculated to imperil their necks seriously, and reached the bottom at the identical moment that a motor char-à-banc rounded the corner and drew up in front of the entrance. Sixteen jolly faces were grinning under sixteen school hats, and at least a dozen excited voices were pouring forth a perfect babel of exclamations. “How ripping!” “Oh, I say!” “This is top-hole!” “What a chubby place!” “I’d no idea it would be like this!” “Oh, hold me up! This child’s knocked me over entirely!” The opening day of a fresh term is always more or less of an event, but this particular reunion was a thrillingly important occasion, for during the Easter holidays the school had removed, and the girls were now having their first peep at their new quarters. The vision that greeted them through the old gateway was certainly calculated to justify their ecstatic remarks. A grassy courtyard, interspersed with box-edged flower beds and flagged footpaths, led to a large, gray old Tudor house, whose mullioned diamond-paned windows, twisted chimney stacks, irregular moss-grown roof, ivied bell-tower, stone balls and carved porch offered the very utmost of the romantic and picturesque. The change from the humdrum, ordinary surroundings of their former school was supreme. Miss Beasley had promised them a pleasant surprise, and she had undoubtedly kept her word. The sixteen new arrivals grasped their handbags and small possessions, and set off up the flagged pathway with delight written large on their countenances. Raymonde Armitage and Aveline Kerby, in virtue of half an hour’s longer acquaintance with the premises, trotted alongside and did the honours. “Yes, it’s topping! Regular old country mansion sort of a place. Might have come straight, slap-bang out of a novel! You should see the Bumble Bee! I can tell you she’s pleased with life! Buzzing about no end! Even the Wasp’s got a smile on! Fact! You needn’t look so incredulous. I’m not ragging.” “It’s true,” confirmed Raymonde. “The Wasp’s quite jinky to-day. Actually said ‘my dear’ to me when I arrived. Of course, Mother was there, but even then it gave me spasms. Gibbie, of all people in this wide world, to call me ‘my dear’! I nearly collapsed! ‘Goodness! what next?’ I thought. ‘Wonders will never cease!’” “Gibbie’s certainly not given to trotting out pet names, even before parents,” chirruped Morvyth Holmes. “Perhaps she’s striking out a new line, and we shall all be ‘Darling’ and ‘Sweetest’ now!” “Don’t you alarm yourself! She couldn’t twist her tongue round them. I’d think she was pining away to an early death if she did!...

Flaming Island: “Look, Dave. See those strange clouds?” Florence Huyler shaded her eyes to look away toward the horizon. Her face wore an expression of bewildered curiosity. “Yes, I see them. They are queer!” young “Captain Davie,” as everyone called him, replied as he wrinkled his brow. After giving the wheel of his motor-driven craft a turn, he studied those clouds. “Scurrying along the horizon,” he murmured, “they roll quite a bit, don’t they?” “Yes, and such a peculiar shade of yellow,” Florence added. “Oh well, clouds are different up here on Lake Superior.” “Nothing to worry about, I guess,” said Dave, as once again he gave his attention to the wheel. As for Florence, at the moment she had nothing to do but think. And such bitter-sweet thoughts as they were! She was cruising on Lake Superior. That was grand! She had always loved the water. What was still more magnificent, she was landing twice a week on the shores of that place of great enchantment—Isle Royale. Once, you will recall from reading The Phantom Violin, Florence with two companions had made her summer home on a huge wrecked ship off the rocky shores of this very island. What a summer that had been! Adventure? Plenty of it. The ship had at last been completely destroyed during a storm. They had barely escaped with their lives. The girl shuddered a little even now at the thought of it. Florence was large, strong, fearless. A marvelous swimmer and a grand athlete, she had little to fear on land or water. And yet, as her eyes swept the deck of the Wanderer, the sixty-foot motor-boat on which she rode, a troubled look came into her fine blue eyes. Nor were those low, circling clouds the cause of her worry. She and her cousin Dave, quite as courageous and venturesome as she, had embarked upon an enterprise that promised to be a failure. “Grandfather will lose his money. He can’t afford to lose, and it’s not all our fault,” she told herself a little bitterly. But now her thoughts were broken by a short, stout, bronze-faced man, an Indian who appeared at the cabin door. “Look, John!” she pointed, speaking to the Indian. “Look at those strange clouds!” “Huh!” he grunted. “Smoke!” “Sm-smoke!” the girl stared. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, from Canada! Forest fires. I’ve heard—”

Alice B. Emerson was a pseudonym used by a number of writers hired by the conglomerate Stratemeyer Syndicat to make popular kids books, especially for young girls. These include the Beth Gordon and Ruth Fielding series.

Excerpt from The Boy Allies With Pershing in France: Or Over the Top at Chateau ThierryHal paine and Chester Crawford crouched low in a shell hole in No Man's Land. A11 morning they had been there and the day had worn on now into the afternoon.Two hundred yards west of their refuge were the American lines. Sprinters such as Hal and Chester could easily have covered the distance in half a minute; and it was not for want oi-courage that so far they had failed to make the effort. It was plain common sense that kept them in their present position.On all sides of them - between the American lines and the most advanced German positions less than two hundred yards from the spot where the open ing of this story finds the two boys - the ground was dotted with shell holes similar to the ones in which Hal and Chester found themselves.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.