Clixy Plays

Best Preschool Books of All Time

2023-08-06T00:40:00.001-07:00

Choosing the "best" preschool books of all time is subjective, as different children may have different preferences and interests. However, some classic and beloved preschool books have stood the test of time and have been enjoyed by generations of young readers. Here is a list of some highly regarded preschool books:

1. "Goodnight Moon" by Margaret Wise Brown

A soothing and timeless bedtime story with simple, repetitive language and beautiful illustrations.

"Goodnight Moon" by Margaret Wise Brown is indeed a classic and beloved bedtime story for preschoolers. It was first published in 1947 and has since become one of the most popular and enduring children's books of all time.

The story follows a young rabbit saying goodnight to various objects and creatures in his room before going to sleep. The book's simple and rhythmic text, along with Clement Hurd's gentle illustrations, creates a calming and soothing atmosphere, making it an ideal choice for bedtime reading.

"Goodnight Moon" has charmed generations of children and parents alike with its timeless appeal, making it a must-have in any preschooler's book collection. It's often regarded as a comforting and nostalgic book that holds a special place in many readers' hearts.

2. "Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak

Follow the imaginative journey of Max to a land of wild creatures in this classic tale.

"Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak is another beloved and iconic preschool book. It was first published in 1963 and has since become a staple in children's literature.

The story revolves around a young boy named Max, who is sent to his room as punishment for misbehaving. In his room, he uses his vivid imagination to transform his surroundings into a wild and magical world inhabited by "wild things." Max becomes the king of these creatures and enjoys his time with them until he eventually decides to return home, where he finds a comforting supper waiting for him.

Maurice Sendak's imaginative storytelling and distinctive illustrations have made "Where the Wild Things Are" a timeless classic. The book explores themes of imagination, emotions, and the importance of home and family. It encourages children to embrace their creativity and imagination, while also understanding the importance of love and security.

The book's imaginative journey and Max's interactions with the wild things have captivated young readers for decades, making it a must-read for preschoolers and a cherished memory for many adults who grew up with the book.

3. "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" by Eric Carle

A colorful and interactive book that teaches counting and days of the week while following the caterpillar's eating adventures.

"The Very Hungry Caterpillar" by Eric Carle is a beloved and highly popular preschool book that has captured the hearts of children worldwide. First published in 1969, the book's unique artwork and interactive elements have made it a classic in children's literature.

The story follows a little caterpillar who emerges from an egg and embarks on a voracious eating journey. Throughout the week, the caterpillar consumes an increasing variety of foods, from one apple on Monday to ten different treats on Saturday. After his feast, the caterpillar transforms into a beautiful butterfly.

Eric Carle's distinctive collage-style illustrations and the caterpillar's cut-out holes on each page that reveal the eaten foods engage young readers. The book not only teaches counting and the days of the week but also introduces children to the life cycle of a butterfly in a fun and engaging way.

"The Very Hungry Caterpillar" is celebrated for its simple yet effective storytelling, vibrant illustrations, and educational value. It has been used in preschool classrooms and homes worldwide to teach various concepts, including colors, days of the week, and healthy eating habits. Its enduring charm and universal appeal have solidified its place as one of the best preschool books of all time.

4. "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" by Bill Martin Jr. and Eric Carle

A delightful rhyming book that introduces colors and animals.

"Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" by Bill Martin Jr. and illustrated by Eric Carle is a beloved and classic preschool book. First published in 1967, the book's rhythmic and repetitive text, combined with Eric Carle's colorful collages, have made it a favorite among young readers.

The book follows a series of animals, each asking the next what they see. For example, "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see?" and the brown bear responds with "I see a red bird looking at me." This pattern continues throughout the book, introducing various animals and colors in an engaging way.

The repetitive structure and simple rhymes make "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" a perfect choice for young children who are learning colors and animals. The bright and bold illustrations by Eric Carle further enhance the book's appeal and captivate the attention of preschoolers.

The book's educational value, combined with its delightful and engaging storytelling, has made it a staple in many preschool classrooms and homes. It continues to be cherished by generations of children and is considered one of the best books for preschoolers to learn about colors and animals.

5. "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom" by Bill Martin Jr. and John Archambault

An engaging alphabet book featuring letters climbing up a coconut tree.

"Chicka Chicka Boom Boom" by Bill Martin Jr. and John Archambault is a fun and interactive alphabet book that has captured the hearts of young readers since its publication in 1989. The book's catchy rhymes and vibrant illustrations by Lois Ehlert make it a joyous learning experience for preschoolers.

The story begins with the letters of the alphabet, all lowercase, deciding to climb up a coconut tree. As they climb, the letters start to pile up, but when they all get to the top, "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom," they all fall down. The letters then pick themselves up and continue the adventure, with the uppercase letters joining in to help.

Through playful language and imaginative storytelling, "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom" introduces children to the alphabet in an engaging and memorable way. The book's lively rhythm and repetition make it easy for young readers to join in and remember the letter sequences.

Aside from teaching the alphabet, the book also encourages children to enjoy language and rhythm, fostering a love for reading and language exploration from an early age.

"Chicka Chicka Boom Boom" has become a classic in preschool classrooms and is often used as a fun and effective tool to introduce and reinforce letter recognition. Its lively presentation and playful spirit have made it a favorite among both children and adults, making it one of the best alphabet books for preschoolers.

These books are not only entertaining but also provide valuable learning experiences for young children. Sharing these stories with preschoolers can foster a love for reading and imagination from an early age.

Best Literature Books of All Time: Timeless Masterpieces That Transcend Generations

2023-06-25T13:53:00.004-07:00

When it comes to literature, certain books have left an indelible mark on the literary landscape, captivating readers for generations and becoming an integral part of our cultural heritage.

These timeless masterpieces have the power to transport us to different worlds, evoke profound emotions, and challenge our perspectives.

In this article, we celebrate some of the best literature books of all time, each a testament to the enduring power of storytelling.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Harper Lee's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, "To Kill a Mockingbird," stands as a literary gem that tackles issues of racial injustice and the loss of innocence. Set in the Deep South during the Great Depression, the story unfolds through the eyes of Scout Finch, a young girl coming of age in a racially divided society. Lee's vivid characters, powerful themes, and timeless messages of empathy and compassion continue to resonate with readers worldwide.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" is a beloved classic that explores the complexities of love, societal expectations, and personal growth. Set in early 19th-century England, the novel follows the spirited Elizabeth Bennet as she navigates the challenges of finding a suitable husband. Austen's wit, astute social commentary, and memorable characters, including the iconic Mr. Darcy, make this novel a perennial favorite among literature enthusiasts.

1984 by George Orwell

George Orwell's dystopian masterpiece, "1984," paints a chilling portrait of a totalitarian society where individuality is suppressed, and Big Brother watches over every aspect of citizens' lives. Orwell's prophetic vision and powerful exploration of themes such as government surveillance, manipulation of truth, and the erosion of freedom make "1984" a thought-provoking and unsettling work of literature that continues to resonate in our modern world.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby" is a tragic tale set in the lavish and decadent world of 1920s America. Through the eyes of the enigmatic Jay Gatsby, Fitzgerald explores themes of wealth, love, and the elusive American Dream. With its lyrical prose, vivid characters, and poignant commentary on the hollowness of materialism, "The Great Gatsby" remains a literary masterpiece that captures the essence of an era.

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes

Miguel de Cervantes' "Don Quixote" is a groundbreaking novel often considered the first modern novel in Western literature. This epic tale follows the deluded yet lovable knight-errant, Don Quixote, and his faithful squire, Sancho Panza, on their misadventures across Spain. Cervantes' rich storytelling, masterful blend of comedy and tragedy, and profound exploration of the nature of reality and idealism make "Don Quixote" an enduring literary masterpiece.

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Leo Tolstoy's monumental novel, "War and Peace," is a sprawling epic that delves into the lives of Russian nobles during the Napoleonic era. With its vast cast of characters, intricate plotting, and profound philosophical reflections on war, history, and the human condition, "War and Peace" stands as a testament to Tolstoy's narrative genius and remains a seminal work in world literature.

The best literature books of all time transport us to different worlds, illuminate the human experience, and leave an indelible impact on our hearts and minds. These timeless masterpieces, from the thought-provoking dystopian visions to the poignant tales of love and societal conventions, continue to resonate with readers across generations. They remind us of the power of storytelling and the enduring legacy of great literature.

Best Humor Books of All Time: A Hilarious Journey Through Literary Laughter

2023-06-25T13:42:00.005-07:00

Laughter is truly the best medicine, and what better way to tickle your funny bone than with a good humor book?

Throughout literary history, countless authors have crafted witty, clever, and side-splitting works that have stood the test of time.

In this article, we embark on a laughter-filled journey as we explore some of the best humor books of all time.

From classic comedic masterpieces to modern gems, these books are sure to leave you in stitches.

"Catch-22" by Joseph Heller:

A satirical novel set during World War II, "Catch-22" is a timeless masterpiece of dark humor. Heller's iconic work introduces us to an absurd world where logic is turned upside down. The unforgettable characters and their hilarious predicaments make this book an absolute must-read for fans of intelligent and biting satire.

"The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" by Douglas Adams:

Prepare to be whisked away on an intergalactic adventure like no other. With its blend of science fiction and humor, Adams' masterpiece takes us on a wild journey through space and time. Packed with dry wit, memorable characters, and ludicrous situations, "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" is a comedic tour de force that will have you laughing out loud.

"Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen:

While not traditionally labeled as a humor book, Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" is a witty and delightful novel. Austen's razor-sharp social commentary, coupled with her sparkling dialogue and memorable characters, creates a lighthearted and humorous exploration of love, marriage, and societal norms. Prepare to be enchanted by the wit and charm of this timeless classic.

"Good Omens" by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman:

In this collaborative effort between two literary geniuses, Pratchett and Gaiman deliver a hilarious and irreverent take on the apocalypse. Blending fantasy, satire, and laugh-out-loud comedy, "Good Omens" follows an angel and a demon as they navigate the absurdities of the end of the world. The book's witty writing and absurd situations make it an absolute gem for fans of humorous fantasy.

"Three Men in a Boat" by Jerome K. Jerome:

Published in 1889, this classic comedic travelogue takes readers on a hilarious boating trip along the Thames River. Jerome's witty observations, amusing anecdotes, and witty banter among the three main characters make "Three Men in a Boat" a timeless comedy. With its relatable mishaps and laugh-inducing escapades, it's a book that will leave you chuckling long after you've turned the last page.

"The Importance of Being Earnest" by Oscar Wilde:

Renowned for his wit and clever wordplay, Oscar Wilde delivers a comedic masterpiece with "The Importance of Being Earnest." Filled with mistaken identities, humorous dialogue, and biting social satire, this play remains a celebrated example of comedic brilliance. Wilde's sharp observations on Victorian society and his knack for creating hilarious situations make this play a true gem of humor.

"Me Talk Pretty One Day" by David Sedaris:

David Sedaris is a master of crafting humorous essays based on his own experiences. In "Me Talk Pretty One Day," he shares uproarious anecdotes from his life, reflecting on everything from language learning struggles to family dynamics. Sedaris' self-deprecating humor and keen eye for absurdity create a collection of essays that will leave you laughing and nodding in recognition.

Humor books have the incredible ability to uplift our spirits, bring joy to our lives, and offer a much-needed escape from the mundane. The best humor books of all time, from the timeless classics to the contemporary favorites, have provided endless laughter and entertainment to readers across generations. Whether you're a fan of satire, wit, or slapstick comedy, there's a humor book out there that will tickle your funny bone. So, pick up one of these comedic masterpieces, prepare for a delightful journey, and get ready to laugh until your sides hurt.

Current Best Chick Lit Books of All Time

2023-06-23T13:34:00.004-07:00

Chick lit, a genre that celebrates female protagonists navigating life's trials and triumphs with humor, wit, and relatability, has gained immense popularity over the years. These books offer a delightful escape, capturing the essence of contemporary women's experiences. In this article, we will embark on a journey through the pages of some of the best chick lit books of all time. From heartwarming tales of love and self-discovery to hilarious and empowering narratives, these books have entertained and inspired readers around the globe.

"Bridget Jones's Diary" by Helen Fielding

Helen Fielding's "Bridget Jones's Diary" is a classic chick lit novel that follows the endearing Bridget Jones as she navigates the ups and downs of singlehood, career aspirations, and her quest for love. With its humor, relatable characters, and Bridget's hilarious diary entries, this book struck a chord with readers and became a cultural phenomenon.

"Confessions of a Shopaholic" by Sophie Kinsella

Sophie Kinsella's "Confessions of a Shopaholic" introduces readers to the irresistible Rebecca Bloomwood, a shopaholic with a penchant for financial trouble. This lighthearted and humorous novel explores Rebecca's hilarious misadventures and her journey towards financial responsibility and personal growth.

"The Devil Wears Prada" by Lauren Weisberger

Lauren Weisberger's "The Devil Wears Prada" offers a glimpse into the glamorous yet cutthroat world of high fashion. Protagonist Andrea Sachs finds herself working as the assistant to the notorious and demanding fashion editor Miranda Priestly. This gripping and witty novel delves into Andrea's struggle to balance her personal life, career ambitions, and the challenges of working for a formidable boss.

"Me Before You" by Jojo Moyes

Jojo Moyes' "Me Before You" presents a poignant love story between Louisa Clark, a quirky and lovable young woman, and Will Traynor, a paralyzed man who has lost his zest for life. This emotionally charged novel explores themes of love, sacrifice, and the power of human connection, leaving readers both moved and inspired.

"Something Borrowed" by Emily Giffin

Emily Giffin's "Something Borrowed" follows the intertwined lives of Rachel and Darcy, best friends since childhood. When Rachel finds herself in a complicated love triangle with Darcy's fiancé, the story delves into themes of friendship, loyalty, and self-discovery. This captivating novel keeps readers engrossed as Rachel navigates the complexities of love and makes life-altering choices.

"The Princess Diaries" by Meg Cabot

Meg Cabot's "The Princess Diaries" introduces readers to Mia Thermopolis, an ordinary teenager who discovers she is the heir to the throne of Genovia. Through Mia's diary entries, this charming and humorous series chronicles her journey of self-discovery, royal responsibilities, and the challenges of teenage life.

"The Hating Game" by Sally Thorne

Sally Thorne's "The Hating Game" presents an addictive enemies-to-lovers story set in a corporate environment. Protagonists Lucy Hutton and Joshua Templeman engage in a fierce rivalry that gradually evolves into a captivating romance. This witty and captivating novel explores themes of love, ambition, and the thin line between love and hate.

"Can You Keep a Secret?" by Sophie Kinsella

In Sophie Kinsella's "Can You Keep a Secret?," Emma Corrigan spills her deepest secrets to a stranger during a turbulent plane ride, only to discover that the stranger is none other than her company's CEO. This hilarious and charming novel takes readers on a rollercoaster ride of humorous misunderstandings, unexpected romance, and personal growth.

"The Undomestic Goddess" by Sophie Kinsella

"The Undomestic Goddess" by Sophie Kinsella tells the story of Samantha Sweeting, a high-powered lawyer who unexpectedly finds herself working as a housekeeper in the countryside. This delightful and entertaining novel explores Samantha's journey of self-discovery, the pursuit of happiness, and the importance of finding balance in life.

"Where'd You Go, Bernadette" by Maria Semple

Maria Semple's "Where'd You Go, Bernadette" presents a captivating story centered around Bernadette Fox, an eccentric and reclusive mother who goes missing. Through a series of documents and correspondence, the novel unravels the mystery behind Bernadette's disappearance, while also exploring themes of family, creativity, and personal fulfillment.

These best chick lit books of all time have captured readers' hearts with their endearing characters, relatable stories, and empowering messages. From laughter-inducing narratives to thought-provoking tales of self-discovery, these books have become timeless treasures in the world of chick lit. So, grab a cozy blanket, a hot cup of tea, and immerse yourself in these captivating stories that celebrate the joys and complexities of being a woman.

The Timeless Wisdom: Exploring the Best-Selling Business Books of All Time

2023-06-23T13:14:00.006-07:00

In a world driven by ambition and a thirst for success, the written word has long served as a beacon of guidance for aspiring entrepreneurs and business enthusiasts. Over the years, countless business books have graced the shelves, promising insights, strategies, and wisdom for navigating the complex landscape of commerce. In this article, we will delve into the realm of literary classics and explore the best-selling business books of all time, which have shaped the minds and strategies of countless professionals worldwide.

"Think and Grow Rich" by Napoleon Hill

Regarded as a masterpiece of motivation and self-improvement, "Think and Grow Rich" by Napoleon Hill has sold millions of copies since its publication in 1937. This influential book presents a profound exploration of the mindset required for achieving success in business and personal life. Drawing on interviews with prominent individuals, Hill reveals the secrets of wealth creation, emphasizing the power of positive thinking, perseverance, and the ability to transform desires into reality.

"The Lean Startup" by Eric Ries

Eric Ries' "The Lean Startup" has become a modern-day classic for entrepreneurs and innovators seeking to build successful ventures. Published in 2011, this book introduces the concept of the Lean Startup methodology, emphasizing the importance of rapid experimentation, validated learning, and iterative product development. Ries provides valuable insights on how to minimize risks, optimize resources, and create a sustainable business in an ever-changing market.

"Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion" by Robert Cialdini

Understanding the principles of influence and persuasion is vital in the realm of business. Robert Cialdini's "Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion," first published in 1984, explores the psychological triggers that guide human behavior. Cialdini identifies six key principles of persuasion, including reciprocity, authority, and scarcity, offering practical examples and techniques to ethically apply them in various situations. This book is a must-read for anyone seeking to enhance their persuasive abilities and negotiation skills.

"Good to Great" by Jim Collins

Jim Collins' "Good to Great" investigates the factors that transform average companies into exceptional ones. Published in 2001, this book presents extensive research and analysis of successful companies, identifying common characteristics and strategies that lead to sustained excellence. Collins introduces concepts like Level 5 Leadership, the Hedgehog Concept, and the Flywheel Effect, providing valuable insights for individuals aspiring to build enduring organizations.

"The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People" by Stephen R. Covey

First published in 1989, "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People" by Stephen R. Covey remains an influential guide for personal and professional development. Covey presents a holistic approach to success, emphasizing principles such as proactivity, prioritization, and synergy. This book helps readers cultivate a strong character, develop meaningful relationships, and align their actions with their values, ultimately leading to greater effectiveness and fulfillment.

"The Innovator's Dilemma" by Clayton M. Christensen

Clayton M. Christensen's "The Innovator's Dilemma" explores the challenges faced by established companies when disruptive technologies emerge. Published in 1997, this book demonstrates how successful organizations can often fail due to their inability to adapt to disruptive changes in the market. Christensen provides insightful frameworks and case studies, urging companies to embrace innovation and actively disrupt themselves before their competitors do.

"Getting Things Done" by David Allen

Productivity and organization are crucial elements of success in business and beyond. David Allen's "Getting Things Done," first published in 2001, offers a comprehensive system for managing tasks, projects, and information overload. Allen introduces the GTD methodology, emphasizing the capture, clarification, organization, and execution of tasks, enabling individuals to achieve greater focus, efficiency, and peace of mind.

The best-selling business books of all time have captivated readers with their timeless wisdom, actionable strategies, and profound insights into the world of commerce and success. From Napoleon Hill's "Think and Grow Rich" to David Allen's "Getting Things Done," these books continue to shape the minds and actions of aspiring entrepreneurs, managers, and business leaders worldwide. By immersing ourselves in the knowledge and experiences shared within these pages, we can unlock our potential, embrace innovation, and strive for greatness in the ever-evolving business landscape.

How to Win the Lottery: 7 Time Lottery Winner Reveals His Tips

2023-06-23T13:06:00.003-07:00

Imagine the thrill of holding that winning lottery ticket, the dreams of a luxurious life and financial freedom becoming a reality. Richard Lustig, a remarkable seven-time lottery winner, knows this feeling all too well. From drowning in debt to basking in the glow of newfound wealth, Lustig's story is an inspiration to those who dare to dream big. In this captivating article, we invite you to join us on a journey through Lustig's extraordinary life and discover the keys to unlocking your own lottery success.

The Rise of a Lottery Winning Legend:

Picture a humble individual, just like you, once skeptical of ever winning the lottery. Richard Lustig's fate took a remarkable turn, leading him to accumulate an astounding $1,047,060.50 in combined winnings. A life of unparalleled luxury awaited him as he secured a jaw-dropping jackpot of $842,151.92. But how did he achieve such astonishing success? Luck played a role, but it was Lustig's determination, perseverance, and strategic brilliance that cracked the code of winning the lottery multiple times.

Deciphering Your Chances of Winning the Lottery:

The path to wealth may seem uncertain, but understanding your chances is the first step towards lottery triumph. The odds of winning vary depending on the specific game and the number of entries. While it may seem like a long shot, someone has to win, and why not you? Richard Lustig's strategies equip you with the knowledge and tactics to navigate the odds more intelligently. By adopting his insights, you can increase your chances and transform from a hopeful dreamer to a confident player.

A Closer Look At The Odds on How to Win the Lottery:

Choosing your lotto numbers is a crucial ritual that requires careful consideration. Lustig advises against predictable sequences and consecutive numbers. Instead, he suggests selecting numbers within a specific range, as 70% of lottery jackpots fall within a numerical sweet spot. Furthermore, diversifying your number choices and exploring less popular lottery games can enhance your odds of success.

Unlocking the Secrets of a Seven-Time Lottery Winner:

Richard Lustig's track record of seven grand prizes is a testament to his expertise. He didn't rely solely on luck but rather crafted a winning strategy. In his book, "Learn How to Increase Your Chances of Winning the Lottery," Lustig shares his invaluable insights. To further enhance your lottery journey, Lustig has developed the Lottery Maximizer software, which harnesses the power of technology to generate intelligent number combinations.

Nine Expert Tips on How to Win the Lottery:

Lustig provides nine expert tips to maximize your chances of winning the lottery. These tips include embracing consistency, joining lottery syndicates, randomizing your numbers, seeking less popular games, and choosing less common numbers. By arming yourself with these strategies, you can transcend the ordinary and embrace extraordinary possibilities.

Mastering the Lottery: Unlocking the Path to Winning Numbers:

Lustig presents a four-step plan to master the lottery. This plan emphasizes doing thorough research, avoiding quick-pick numbers, sticking to your chosen numbers, and staying grounded during jackpot frenzies. By following this plan, you can take control of your lottery destiny and increase your probability of success.

Richard Lustig's story of triumph over the lottery is a testament to the power of strategy, perseverance, and a touch of luck. Armed with his insights, the Lottery Maximizer software, and his book, you can navigate the complex landscape of lotteries with confidence. Remember, success awaits those who step outside their comfort zones and dare to chase their dreams. It's time to unlock the gateway to unparalleled possibilities and turn your lottery dreams into a dazzling reality.

13 Things Lotto Winners Won’t Tell You: Life After Winning the Lottery

2023-06-23T12:51:00.004-07:00

Winning the lottery may seem like a dream come true, but have you ever wondered what life is really like after hitting the jackpot? In this eye-opening article, we delve into the experiences of past lottery winners who share insights on losing friends, becoming public spectacles, and the realities of striking it rich. Before you embark on your lottery journey and start studying winning numbers, take a moment to discover the hidden truths behind life after lotto.

1. Easy come, easy go:

The glamorous life of a lottery winner may not last forever. Surprisingly, around 70 percent of lotto winners end up losing or spending all their winnings within just five years. We uncover shocking stories, including a lottery ticket dispute that spiraled into a tale of betrayal and deceit.

2. Take a second chance:

Did you know about second-chance drawings? Many lottery games offer these opportunities, where you can still win prizes with losing tickets. Unfortunately, most people either overlook these chances or simply don't bother to enter. Discover how playing the second-chance drawings can increase your odds of winning, while we also shed light on the consequences faced by those who cheat the system.

3. Don’t quit while you’re ahead:

Think lotto winners retire from playing the lottery? Think again. They continue to play with unwavering confidence, firmly believing that lightning can strike twice. Find out why the allure of the lottery remains even for those who have already hit the jackpot.

4. You will be exploited—possibly by your friends:

Beware of the sob stories that come your way after winning the lottery. Some past winners share shocking tales of friends trying to take advantage of their newfound wealth. Discover the lengths one winner went to uncover a deceitful friend's lies and the impact it had on their friendship.

5. A lot can seem like a little:

Money is relative, and when surrounded by fellow lotto winners who have won hundreds of millions, even a six-million-dollar windfall can make you feel comparatively poor. Explore the experiences of lottery winners who encountered financial challenges despite their substantial winnings.

6. You’ll answer for our impulse purchases:

Impulse purchases can be tempting after a lottery win, but the reality often catches up. Learn from the mistakes of past winners who made extravagant purchases, only to realize that practicality outweighed extravagance in the long run.

Life after winning the lottery is far from what it appears on the surface. The tales of past lotto winners serve as cautionary reminders of the challenges and unexpected consequences that come with sudden wealth. So, before you chase your lottery dreams, keep these insightful revelations in mind and approach the world of lotto with a newfound perspective.

Unveiling the Top 10 Biggest Lottery Prize Payouts of All-Time & their Winning Destinations

2023-06-23T11:53:00.008-07:00

Friday, July 29, etched its place in the phase of lottery history, as the third-largest payout ever unfolded, captivating the nation.

Today, we delve into the realm of staggering fortunes won and lives forever changed, presenting the ten biggest lottery prize payouts results of all time in the United States.

Brace yourself for a whirlwind tour through unimaginable riches and the humble origins that birthed them.

Top 10 Lottery Winnings Ever:

Winner	State	Year	Amount
Anonymous	South Carolina	2018	$878M
FLL Wolverine Club	Michigan	2021	$778M
Anonymous	Illinois	2022	$747M
The Power Pack	Maryland	2021	$547M
Scott Godfrey	California	2017	$481M
Mavis Wancyzk	Massachusetts	2017	$481M
Manuel Franco	Wisconsin	2019	$477M
Richard Wahl	New Jersey	2018	$378M
Gloria McKenzie	Florida	2013	$371M
Anonymous	New Hampshire	2018	$352M

On that momentous Friday, July 29, the Mega Millions unleashed a staggering $1.28 billion jackpot, forever changing the life of a solitary Illinois suburbanite. The fateful ticket was purchased at a modest gas station in Des Plaines, IL, delivering a lump-sum payout of $747 million—the third-highest ever in the history of lotteries.

Embark on a captivating journey as we explore the stories behind the greatest lottery fortunes ever amassed.

$878 million, Anonymous, South Carolina, 2018

The auspicious ticket was acquired at KC Mart in Simpsonville, S.C., bestowing upon a fortunate individual the staggering $1.5-billion Mega Millions jackpot.

The anonymous winner, known only to lottery officials, revealed a fascinating detail—she allowed another customer to cut ahead of her in line, sealing her destiny.

Surprisingly, despite her act of kindness, her winning quick-pick ticket was still randomly generated. The South Carolina lottery reveled in this tale of serendipity, relishing a $61 million tax windfall for the state.

$778 million, FLL Wolverine Club, Michigan, 2021

A quartet of hopefuls, comprising the FLL Wolverine Club, embarked on a life-altering adventure by securing the $1.05-billion Mega Millions drawing.

Their fortunate ticket was purchased at a humble Kroger in Novi, Mich.

After accounting for state and federal taxes (24% and 4.25% respectively), the final net payment amounted to an awe-inspiring $557 million.

$747 million, Anonymous, Illinois, 2022

Twenty-nine draws passed before destiny smiled upon an unknown player, propelling the jackpot to a staggering $1.28 billion.

The winning ticket emerged from a Speedway gas station, earning the establishment a well-deserved $500,000 prize for facilitating the life-altering transaction.

$547 million, The Power Pack, Maryland, 2021

A group of fortunate souls, known as The Power Pack, seized the moment by opting for the lump sum in the $731-million Powerball windfall.

The Coney Market in Lonaconing, Md., played host to the life-changing ticket sale.

After accounting for federal and state taxes, the net payout to the undisclosed number of participants totaled an impressive $366.6 million.

$496 million, Scott Godfrey, California, 2021

In the $699.8-million drawing, Scott Godfrey became the sole winner, clutching the astonishing lump sum of $496 million.

Godfrey's good fortune originated from an Albertsons store in Morro Bay, Calif.

Notably, California exempts state taxes on lottery prizes, channeling $78 million towards the noble cause of education.

$481 million, Mavis Wancyzk, Massachusetts, 2017

A life-altering sum of $758.7 million in the Powerball drawing made Mavis Wancyzk a millionaire beyond her wildest dreams.

The 53-year-old Massachusetts resident promptly bid farewell to her hospital job with a phone call, confidently announcing her decision.

Following deductions for federal and local taxes, Wancyzk's estimated net payment stood at a remarkable $356 million.

$477 million, Manuel Franco, Wisconsin, 2019

The youngest among the grand winners, 24-year-old Manuel Franco, embarked on his lucky quest by visiting a Speedway gas station in New Berlin, Wis.

With a bank account barely touching $1,000, Franco took a moment to wink at the security camera before altering the course of his life.

Intriguingly, scammers later impersonated Franco via text messages, attempting to trick unsuspecting victims into divulging their bank information under the pretense of sharing in his fortune.

$378 million, Richard Wahl, New Jersey, 2018

Richard Wahl, a 47-year-old production manager, embarked on an awe-inspiring journey as the sole victor of a $533-million Mega Millions jackpot.

Astonished by the value of his ticket, Wahl initially believed he had won $1 million, only to discover an unimaginable $378 million windfall.

After fulfilling state and local tax obligations, Wahl's net winnings were estimated to hover around a colossal $175 million.

$371 million, Gloria McKenzie, Florida, 2013

The oldest winner on our esteemed list, 84-year-old Gloria McKenzie, astutely chose the lump sum over the 30-year payout option in a $590-million Powerball drawing.

Mere chance brought her to a Publix near Tampa, where she confidently secured her ticket.

Following tax deductions, McKenzie's net haul amounted to an impressive $278 million, enabling her to savor the fruits of her victory.

$352 million, Anonymous, New Hampshire, 2018

In a remarkable turn of events, New Hampshire witnessed a change in tradition as winners were previously required to come forward. However, in 2018, the winner of a staggering $559.7-million Powerball jackpot chose the path of anonymity and successfully sued to protect their identity.

This legal battle escalated all the way to the state Supreme Court, ultimately granting the fortunate individual the privilege of privacy.

The lump sum option presented them with a life-altering $352 million, securing their financial future and leaving the public in awe of their anonymous triumph.

Just Missed:

$349 million, Peace of Mind Trust, Pennsylvania, 2021

A captivating tale unfolded when a single-ticket win of $516 million in the Mega Millions drawing was divided among five friends who formed the Peace of Mind Trust.

The winning ticket materialized at a 7-Eleven in Middletown, Pa., sparking joy and transforming their lives forever.

After accounting for state and federal taxes, each of the fortunate five received a net payout of $50.8 million, ushering in a new chapter of prosperity.

As these extraordinary stories of unimaginable wealth and life-changing moments unfold, the allure of the lottery continues to captivate our collective imagination. With each new record-breaking jackpot, dreams are sparked, lives are transformed, and the eternal question lingers: Could you be the next fortunate soul to hold the golden ticket?

The Power of Wisdom

2023-01-23T12:41:00.001-08:00

Sustain Hip hop Reggae Beat Free Instrumentals 001

2017-10-30T14:28:00.001-07:00

Tallest Buildings in Ghana (Villagio)

2017-09-13T10:45:00.002-07:00

Towers and Tall Buildings are exceptionally regular in the United States of America and Asia.

Towers and tall buildings, with their staggering construction costs reaching millions of dollars, are exceptionally common in the United States of America and Asia.

These awe-inspiring assets stand as architectural marvels, testaments to human ingenuity, and symbols of economic power and prosperity. Defining the skylines of major cities, these towering structures serve as beacons of progress and ambition, capturing the collective imagination and leaving an indelible mark on the urban landscape.

The tallest working on the planet as of now is the Burj Khalifa in Dubai with 163 stories (828 m) trailed by the Shanghai Tower (632 m) in China with 121 stories.

In Africa, the tallest pinnacle will be the Great Mosque of Algiers (270m) when it is finished in the not so distant future.

Other tall structures in Africa incorporate the Carlton Center in South Africa (233m) and the Ponte City Apartments (173m) additionally in Johannesburg, South Africa

What are the tallest structures in Ghana? We has arranged the 10 tallest structures in Ghana.

High rises are exceptionally regular in the United States of America and Asia. The tallest working on the planet as of now is the Burj Khalifa in Dubai with 163 stories (828 m) trailed by the Shanghai Tower (632 m) in China with 121 stories.

In Africa, the tallest pinnacle will be the Great Mosque of Algiers (270m) when it is finished in the not so distant future. Other tall structures in Africa incorporate the Carlton Center in South Africa (233m) and the Ponte City Apartments (173m) additionally in Johannesburg, South Africa

What are the tallest structures in Ghana? We has arranged the 10 tallest structures in Ghana.

Villagio Vista, Alto

Villagio Vista, Alto – This is at present the tallest private office in Ghana with 27 stories constructed and oversaw by the organization, Trasacco and it is situated at Tetteh Quarshie. The yellow building is the most up to date expansion to the Villagio Vista.

Villagio Vista, Azure

Villagio Vista, Azure – This is the second tallest working in Ghana with 18 stories. The red structure is additionally overseen by the organization, Trasacco and it is situated in a similar region with Villagio Vista, Alto.

World Trade Center, Accra

World Trade Center, Accra – This is a 17 story building situated at Accra Central which is right now being involved in the World Trade Center and different workplaces. It gives transitory spaces to workplaces also.

Legacy Towers

Legacy Towers – The Heritage Towers is a 16 story business office space situated at the Ambassadorial Enclave in Ridge. It houses business and monetary foundations like the United Bank for Africa's head office.

Edge Towers – The 15 story was worked in 2005 and it is situated at the Central Business District of Accra. It houses monetary foundations and different organizations.

Cedi House – The 14 story is additionally situated at the Central Business District of Accra. It is a business office space which houses the Ghana Stock Exchange.

Atlantic Towers – The Atlantic Towers situated at Airport City has 13 stories making it one of the tallest structures in Accra.

Head Towers – The 13-story Premier Towers is likewise situated in Accra, close to the National Theater. Its inhabitants incorporate the Zenith Bank and SG-SSB.

Electro-Volta House – Owned by the Volta River Authority is situated in Accra. The 12 story building is the head office of the Volta River Authority.

Villagio Vista, Aqua – This private office is 12 stories, likewise oversaw by Trasacco Estates. This green office is situated at Tetteh Quarshie close to the Accra Mall. – This is at present the tallest private office in Ghana with 27 stories constructed and oversaw by the organization, Trasacco and it is situated at Tetteh Quarshie. The yellow building is the most up to date expansion to the Villagio Vista.

Villagio Vista, Azure – This is the second tallest working in Ghana with 18 stories. The red structure is additionally overseen by the organization, Trasacco and it is situated in a similar region with Villagio Vista, Alto.

World Trade Center, Accra – This is a 17 story building situated at Accra Central which is right now being involved by the World Trade Center and different workplaces. It gives transitory spaces to workplaces also.

Legacy Towers – The Heritage Towers is a 16 story business office space situated at the Ambassadorial Enclave in Ridge. It houses business and monetary foundations like the United Bank for Africa's head office.

Edge Towers – The 15 story was worked in 2005 and it is situated at the Central Business District of Accra. It houses monetary foundations and different organizations.

Cedi House – The 14 story is additionally situated at the Central Business District of Accra. It is a business office space which houses the Ghana Stock Exchange.

Atlantic Towers – The Atlantic Towers situated at Airport City has 13 stories making it one of the tallest structures in Accra.

Head Towers – The 13-story Premier Towers is likewise situated in Accra, close to the National Theater. Its inhabitants incorporate the Zenith Bank and SG-SSB.

Electro-Volta House – Owned by the Volta River Authority is situated in Accra. The 12 story building is the head office of the Volta River Authority.

Villagio Vista, Aqua – This private office is 12 stories, likewise oversaw by Trasacco Estates. This green office is situated at Tetteh Quarshie close to the Accra Mall.

Top East Legon Expensive houses

2017-09-04T09:35:00.001-07:00

Buying a house is a costly speculation everyone needs to make sooner or later in life. Before purchasing a house, it's amusing to peruse what is available, regardless of the possibility that it is out of our financial plans and particularly to get a feeling of the value of properties.

It's engaging to enjoy our dreams by looking at mind boggling homes with OMG sticker prices to coordinate. Here's an aggregation of eight of the most costly Accra East Legon properties available to be purchased on meQasa.com, for those trying to purchase top of the line property in Ghana's capital with noteworthy highlights.

1. $2.5 million House in Cantonments

Cantonments is no more bizarre to delightful extravagance homes and this official house is a decent possibility for mayor. This extraordinary property gloats 5 rooms, an in vogue swimming pool, a comfortable summer cottage and a tempting kitchen-cafe that will most likely draw out the gourmet specialist in you. See this property available to be purchased in all its magnificence at Cantonments.

2. $1.2 million 5 Bedroom Mansion at Airport Hills

5 rooms feels like too little space to contain the quintessence of this appealing property. Sitting on a great extension of land and including a utilitarian performance center room, a staggering pool, a stunning inside and huge glass windows to guarantee a lot of characteristic light, this beautiful home is beyond words and in the event that we needed to figure, marginally underpriced. See this million dollar property available to be purchased at Airport Hills here.

3. $2 million Furnished 9 Bedroom House in Sakumo

The modernity and style that graces this astonishing 8 room chateau is one we're head over foot sole areas in adoration with. This fantasy home awes with it's detailed inside, a broad grass territory, a swan lake, glorious lavatories thus considerably more. Take a look inside this fantastic house available to be purchased at Sakumono.

4. $2.8 million Villa in the Airport Area

This stunning manor accompanies not one, but rather three extensive fitted kitchens! How about we turn around. This gorgeous sight of a home highlights four royal ensuite rooms, a hall sitting above a rich pool and delightful wood framing that will blend inside you a feeling of refinement.

The property's perfect stylistic layout may very well toss you into an unending dream circle. How about we not by any means begin on this manor brings to the table. Steel yourself and look at this glorious estate available to be purchased.

5. $1.7 million 7 Bedroom House at Trassaco

In case you're searching for a property with a great deal of outside space whose advancement is just constrained by your creative energy, this manor is flawlessness in the mask. Set in one of Ghana's most renowned neighborhoods, this fantastic home is perfect for raising a directly measured family in the most agreeable air. See a greater amount of this Trasacco Estate property available to be purchased here.

6. $1.5 million 5 Bedroom House in East Legon

Gracious my! This completely outfitted East Legon property is an executioner on the eyes. Sitting on 1500 square meters, this forcing 2-story property accompanies 5 vast rooms, a home bar, a roomy completely fitted kitchen, carefully finished outside, a carport and a tall rundown of "you-have to get me-now" highlights. Check out this delightful East Legon house available to be purchased here.

7. $950, 000 Furnished 7 Bedroom House in Dansoman

This completely outfitted Dansoman property plans to inspire and by Jove does it, and easily as well! The property is described by 7 tremendous rooms, a sprawling cleared outside with twofold canopied parking spot and exercise center enhancements.

It likewise has a personal pool, toilet and a large group of different comforts, this family-cognizant chateau is the total bundle. See this 7 room house available to be purchased here.

8. $2.5 million 6 Bedroom House in East Legon

Bathrooms are apparently the most vital room in a home and this 6 room breath-taker absolutely gets it. This gem brags great ensuite washrooms you will love. That is not every last bit of it however, the East Legon property accompanies a completely fitted kitchen, a broad exacerbate, an open living region and that's just the beginning. Begin to look all starry eyed at this East Legon excellence available to be purchased here.

Best sellers romance books and quotes- is romance important in our lives as humans?

2014-09-27T12:34:00.001-07:00

Apart from checking out the best sellers romance books, this article also tackles the following questions. I brought up these questions and answered them to help people who are always busy, working and married or in a relationship but don't give other attention to their romantic lives.

They don't do it because they think other things are more important to them than their love ones.

Taking care of a partners wants and need romantically will actually help us to build strong relationships.
Answering the following questions will bring anyone to the understanding and the importance of reading romantic novels and even understanding the purpose of romance.

Do we really need romantic books?
Is romance important in our lives, especially marriages or relationships?
Does romance build up strong relationships in marriages?
And lastly, does being romantic help our lifestyle in any other way? I will be shooting more questions and answering them romantically :) if you stay with me here.

So what is the real deal about romance? What is the meaning of the term romance?
According to urbandictionary.com

True romance is doing something special or unexpected for someone you love, even though you don't have to. Romance isn't a greeting card, it isn't Valentine's Day, it isn't a box of chocolates, and it certainly isn't a dozen roses (unless you like that sort of thing). Real romance is not what modern society has been taught to think it is. Real romance isn't manufactured. It is completely individual. Romance is for showing the person you love that you're thinking about them. It shouldn't feel forced. There are no limits to romance; it can be shown by a handwritten note, by going for a walk, or even by making someone a sandwich. Romance is something simple and sweet that reminds your partner why they fell in love with you in the first place.

"John, just sitting out here with you watching the sky is all the romance I need."

by Q Miller August 23, 2009

So i ask why should one be romantic? Is romance a natural temperance in our human life? Do animals have romance? They will be answered but for now perhaps you might want to read a little more introduction and the main concept behind romance. Or you can jump straight to the best selling romance books.

romance through cuddling

In the sentiments of romance affection connections, romance generally infers a statement of one's solid sentimental adoration, or one's profound and solid enthusiastic cravings to associate with someone else personally or impractically. Truly, the expression "romance" started with the medieval perfect gallantry as set out in its Romance writings and meanings.

People have a common slant to structure securities associated with romance and affection with each other through social communications, passion, ardour, adoration , devotion, fondness, intimacy and attachment through verbal correspondence or nonverbal signals.

We express these feelings to each other through sweet and favorable words, giving thoughtful gifts, showing love ones beautiful scenes when the subject can afford, and also satisfying our sexual, love and lustful pleasure through sensual arousing and body attachment. Men and women can go as far as buying the moon if possible to surprise their love ones romantically.

Most people usually connect romance with touching, smooching and sexual affection. It is actually far more than that. It is creating magical moments in our relationships through extraordinary ways just to let our love one know that we always care. Giving them a sense of security that always reminds them of someone there watching and planning their best moments for them.

romance in morning bed coffee

Some examples of being romantic is waking up in the morning and bringing a cup of coffee while he or she is still in bed. It is the constant kisses and hugs even when angry, emotionally unstable and giving in all out through every situation in life.

Romance is when you plan romantic rendezvous during weekends, getting your love ones a local hotel room with great decorations and planning the scene just to make them feel extra special.Being romantic is giving your partner 100% attention when you go out or make out at dinner or other outings.(ESPECIALLY whey you switch off your business phones and WHATSAPP :)

It is the ideal attention to a partner making them count a lot in your life.It is the taken a moment of your time to tell them how beautiful, sexy, attractive, great, and making them feel loved and important to you.

But is romance all that it is?
Is romance part of love or is it just a type of lust? Before we answer these questions let us begin to understand the true meaning and purpose of romance.

The importance of romance in our marriage lives and relationships?

According to lifesource.com on the selfless of romance --"The importance of romance within marriage can’t be underestimated. It keeps your relationship going and your passions alive. Without it, I’m convinced, relationships will begin to deteriorate."

romance at old age

If you are into a relationship or marriage and really value it more than anything and don't want to loose your partner or burn out the love candle light, then you should always read and learn more about how to improve your romantic life. The true importance of romance is to keep the love fire burning and remind your partner or whomever you are related to that you are always there, you care and you are in for life.

Been romantic is the best communicative skill a person may express to a love one. It is very effective and contribute mostly to sustaining relationships. This is what makes a young girl sells her father's car just to help her boyfriend achieve an aim and people wouldn't understand. This is what made Romeo and Juliet in Shakespeare's novel became so famous and still being studied in literature. This is what made The Titanic movie become one of the best romantic movies and love movie in the 21st century and sold almost $2.1 billion.

And this is where we tackle the question: How can we be truly romantic if romance is very important in our lives?

The best way to be romantic is to be creative, selfless and self sacrifice. Being creative means planning ahead to surprise your partner in any other way like a nice romantic dinner, buying your lover his or her favorite car, food,or anything that interest them at a surprised time. These surprises can and may be achieved if proper attention is given to your love one.

When you study them well enough, you might end up knowing exactly what they will be needing at an appropriate time and then you hit them up romantically. From the 9 of the most romantic birthdays i stumbled upon from Ben Kassoy, the most surprising story i enjoyed reading was the gift to Jasmin from her boyfriend.

QUOTE: "Jazmin:
A boyfriend once bought me an N64 on eBay. When I was a kid we didn't have the money for video game consoles, so I grew up playing at my friends' houses but never had my own. He knew this and made all my childhood dreams come true with a ‘90s throwback gift. I fought back tears at the kind, sentimental gesture, then proceeded to kick his butt in Super Smash Bros."

Being romantic is thinking out of the box and coming out with something that will blow the mind of your love one. Being romantic isn't always about kisses and fondling and sex. Even though being perfect in that counts a lot. If you fall short of that, you might want to check mastered by love (Bastion Club) to keep you updated on mastering romance.

So Do we really need romantic books?

Well before we answer such a question, i will like to lay down some facts about great movies of this decade. Show me a great movie you think of the last decade and let me show you an entity of love and probably romance or the reason to it in the movie. The matrix was a powerful movie, sold out $463 million at the box office. How effective was the contribution of the love scene from the first part of the trilogy movie about Neo and Trinity?.

It was obvious that Trinity had been in love with Neo from far off for quite a while, in spite of the fact that she kept on concealing her affections for him. But Close to the end, after he is executed by Agent Smith inside the Matrix, she addresses his interfaced physical body and uncovers that the Oracle let her know that she would experience passionate feelings for The One, a forecaster individual fit for controlling the Matrix to an exceptional degree. She then kisses him, whereupon he supernaturally comes back to life both in this present reality and inside the Matrix.

To me that moment was a moment of affection and romance. It was the power of romance and love that woke up Neo from the dead. Well off-course it a movie of fiction but it portrays how we are all connected with the imagination of the power of love which can conquer anything.

We need romance books because when we read romance novels we investigate the relationships between a man and a woman, a sentiment romance novel stresses the sentimental parts of their fascination. Different sorts of books underscore different things.

But reading a romance novel makes us capable for investigating what makes us human. Romance books can be serious, interesting, amusing, strong, lamentable, witty. It can touch all human feeling, from delight to gloom, from cleverness to outrage to retribution to benevolence. All fiction is a method for investigating the human soul.

These desires and affections are worth to explore and gives us ideas to exhibits in our daily life. The actions and events that happens in romantic novels somehow create guidance through our marriage and love life. It is therefore very essential to read these books.

Anyone who objects to romance novels somehow does not sustain a perfect relationship, may not be married or not in love and doesn't dream to be so or may be arrogant enough to use only the power of money to control their relationships. But real love comes from freewill and that is the foundation of love. And real romance comes from detailed studying of a love one from time to time and honoring their wants or needs the appropriate time.

Is Romance a sin?

The two verses from the Song of Songs stream from the heart of an energetic God. The story of redemption has been called the "divine romance" and that is absolutely the truth. The Church is Christ's bride. Idolatry is adultery. The ideas of marriage, binding and romance are among the best known and deepest analogies to the adoration for God for His people. God is affection, love and God is sentimental and romantic.

Some Christians think romance is a sin, well you might want to check the bible well and probably check the book of songs of songs chapter 1 going.

The Bride Confesses Her Love

²Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
For your love is better than wine;
³    your anointing oils are fragrant;
your name is oil poured out;
    therefore virgins love you.
⁴Draw me after you; let us run.
    The king has brought me into his chambers.

Do Animals have romance?

This question sounds a bit fun but actually it's also a rhetorical one because if animals perform romantic acts then how much more we humans :)

Well i found myself these videos you might checkout for your answer. And then perhaps checkout these images ,videos and links.

The 8 most romantic creatures in the animal kingdom

Therefore romance itself is a natural affection that makes us who we are. God himself created it.

You may now check out the best sellers romance books.

CURRENT BESTSELLERS IN ROMANCE

EDITORS PICK. RECOMMENDED !!

This book is a must read. This book takes after a sort of straightforward reason, yet puts an extraordinary turn on it. Yes, kid meets-young lady, kid ticks-off-young lady, detest at the outset results, yet the distinction being that young lady is an exceptionally effective legal counselor and kid is "The Sexiest Man Alive" (three times over) and the greatest name in Hollywood.

An unimaginable plot told in an exceptionally authentic manner. At the point when Taylor Donovan figures out she should "mentor" Hollywood playboy Jason Andrews for his new approaching lawful thriller that he's planned to film, she's at first awed. Anyway after a no-show (twice) on his part, she's not inspired when he walks into the court two days late and a dollar short.

These two characters begin their first scene off with a blast and the witty talk (particularly amid their initially meeting) kept me turning the pages. There is sexual strain in about every scene - albeit real fulfillment of said pressure is extremely restricted. I completed it in under a day and really thought that it was difficult to put down.

Jason Andrews is accustomed to having ladies fall at his feet. At the point when Taylor Donovan treats him with chilling disdain, he's stunned. She's dissimilar to whatever other lady he's ever met: uninterested in the spotlight, apparently insusceptible to his advances, and shockingly fit for saying no to him. She's the ideal test. Furthermore the more she rejects him, the more he starts to understand she might simply be his ideal match.
CHECK IT OUT

Top 5 Romantic Quotes You Must Know.

1. “No matter what has happened. No matter what you’ve done. No matter what you will do. I will always love you. I swear it.” Defiance by C.J. Redwine

2. “I wanted to tell you that wherever I am, whatever happens, I’ll always think of you, and the time we spent together, as my happiest time. I’d do it all over again, if I had the choice. No regrets.” Boundless by Cynthia Hand

3. “It’s one thing to fall in love. It’s another to feel someone else fall in love with you, and to feel a responsibility toward that love.” Every Day by David Levithan

4. “I love you the way a drowning man loves air. And it would destroy me to have you just a little.” The Crown of Embers by Rae Carson

5. “I want everyone to meet you. You’re my favorite person of all time.” Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell

best comic book movies of all time

2014-09-25T13:00:00.001-07:00

Best
comic book movies of all time

Greetings to lovers of comics. Today i bring you the best comic book movies of all time. These books are best sellers and if you have not read any of them, then am sorry you are not a comic lover. But check out a little introduction to comics incase you are not aware of what you love. Then i bring you the list.

Comics is a visual medium used to express plans through pictures, regularly joined together with content or visual data. Funnies habitually takes the type of compared successions of boards of pictures. Frequently printed gadgets, for example, discourse blow ups, subtitles, and sound impacts ("likeness in sound") demonstrate dialog, portrayal, or other data.

Components, for example, size and game plan of boards control story pacing. Cartooning and comparative types of representation are the most well-known picture making means in funnies; fumetti is a structure which utilizes photographic pictures. Basic manifestations of funnies incorporate funny cartoons, publication and muffle kid's shows, and comic books. Since the late twentieth century, bound volumes, for example, realistic books, funnies collections, and tankōbon have ended up progressively normal, and online webcomics have multiplied.

The historical backdrop of funnies has emulated disparate ways in distinctive societies. A few researchers have set an ancient times as far once again as the Lascaux cavern compositions. By the mid-twentieth century, funnies prospered especially in the US, western Europe (especially France and Belgium), and Japan. European funnies follows its history to Rodolphe Töpffer's toon segments of the 1830s, and got to be mainstream after the 1920s accomplishment of strips, for example, The Adventures of Tintin.

American funnies developed as a mass medium in the early twentieth century with the approach of daily paper funny cartoons; magazine-style comic books followed in the 1930s. Japanese funnies and cartooning (manga) follows its history to the thirteenth century. Cutting edge funny cartoons rose in Japan in the early twentieth century in impersonation of Western strips, and by the 1930s funnies magazines and book accumulations got to be basic. The post-World War II period saw the prominence of illustrators, for example, Osamu Tezuka lead to quick development of the notoriety of funnies in Japan.

Below is the list of the best comic book movies of all time. Enjoy.

Wonder Struck

by Brain Elznick

From Brian Selznick, the inventor of the Caldecott Medal champ THE INVENTION OF HUGO CABRET, comes an alternate stunning visit de power.

Playing with the structure he made in his trailblazing introduction novel, The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Brian Selznick at the end of the day sails into uncharted domain and tackles a remarkable excursion.

Ben and Rose furtively wish their lives were distinctive. Ben yearns for the father he has never known. Rose longs for a recondite performer whose life she annals in a scrapbook. At the point when Ben finds a perplexing educate his mother's room and Rose peruses a luring feature in the daily paper, both kids set out alone on urgent journeys to discover what they are absent.

Set fifty years separated, these two free stories- -Ben's told in words, Rose's in pictures- -weave over and over again with hypnotizing symmetry. How they unfold and at last entwine will shock you, provoke you, and flabbergast you with marvel. Rich, mind boggling, influencing, and delightful -with in excess of 460 pages of unique craftsmanship -Wonderstruck is a shocking accomplishment from a remarkably skilled craftsman and visionary.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Sandman

by Neil Gaiman

New York Times top of the line creator Neil Gaiman's transcendent arrangement SANDMAN is regularly hailed as the conclusive Vertigo title and one of the finest accomplishments in realistic narrating. Gaiman made an exceptional story of the constrains that exist past life and demise by weaving antiquated mythology, fables and tall tales with his unique account vision.

In PRELUDES & NOCTURNES, a medium endeavoring to catch Death to can hope for everlasting life traps her more youthful sibling Dream. After his 70 year detainment and consequent break, Dream, otherwise called Morpheus, goes on a journey for his lost objects of force. On his challenging trip Morpheus experiences Lucifer, John Constantine, and an almighty crazy person.

This book additionally incorporates the story "The Sound of Her Wings," which acquaints us with the businesslike and lively goth young lady Death.

Incorporates issues 1-8 of the first arrangement with totally new shading, affirmed by the creator.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

The Hedge Knight

by George R. R Martin

In this comic book/realistic novel adjustment set one hundred prior years the occasions in George R.r. Martin's epic dream arrangement, A Song of Ice and Fire, The Hedge Knight annals an adolescent squire as he ventures to every part of the barbarous and complex way to knighthood in the Seven Kingdoms.

Shouldering his fallen expert's sword and shield, Duncan (or "Dunk") is resolved to reinvent himself as a knight in an adjacent competition. However first Dunk needs a patron, and that prerequisite sends him down a street studded with co

In this holding prequel, Dunk and Egg look for brilliance in a world both well known and new to Game of Thrones fans. What the two fortune seekers experience, notwithstanding, is an universe of doubt and political intrigues.

Gallantry is not lost while Dunk holds quick to his fantasies of honor. Be that as it may such old fashioned excellencies make him a target—and they may even prompt his ruin. This distinctive and intricately fashioned story brings new measurement to George R. R. Martin's cherished world.

This version incorporates fifteen pages of new supplemental material: representations, character plans, and unique pages by Mike S. Mill operator, in addition to variation and unique spread

mpanions, enemies, escapade, and shrouded motivation. One such companion is Egg, who turns into Dunk's squire, yet even he may hold mystery inspirations of his own.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Gotham Central

by ED Brubaker and Greg Rucka

Gotham City: a town abounding with degenerate cops, savage wrongdoing rulers, negligible cheats … and simply a little hand sized scoop that would contradict them. Grizzled veteran Harvey Bullock, Captain Maggie Sawyer, criminologist Renee Montoya and the GCPD are the law drive that stands in the middle of request and complete turmoil.

Gotham's Finest work all day and all night to not just keep the world's most maniacal hoodlums off the road... at the same time additionally cleaning up the wreckage abandoned by Batman's one-man war on wrongdoing.

Composed by discriminating acclaimed creators Ed Brubaker (Captain America) and Greg Rucka (52, DETECTIVE COMICS), this Eisner Award-winning arrangement takes after the analysts of Gotham City's Special Crimes Unit as they explore the against the city's most prominent miscreants — in the shadow of Batman himself. Gathers issues #1

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Red Hood Outlaws

by Sott lobdell

No sooner has Batman's previous sidekick, Jason Todd, put his past as the Red Hood behind him than he ends up cornered by a couple of cutting edge fugitives:

Green Arrow's rejected sidekick Arsenal, the harmed trooper of fortune, and the outsider Starfire, a previous detainee of intergalactic war who won't be affixed once more.

As a recluse, Jason has truly no enthusiasm toward this diverse group of bandits. So what's he going to do when they pick the Red Hood as their pioneer?

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

best success books of all time

2014-09-25T12:22:00.003-07:00

We all want to achieve success in our endeavors. To be successful in most of our lives requires strategic and certain rules to follow to reach those goals.

Even though success comes from a long term process of preparation and doing the right thing at right time, reading more success books improves our lives in diverse and various ways. Checkout the best success books of all time. Enjoy.

Best
success books of all time

The Shift

by Dr Wayne W. Dyer : Taking your life from ambition to meaning

The Shift—a sidekick book to the film of the same name—shows how and why to make the move from aspiration to significance. Such a movement disposes of our emotions of separateness, enlightens our otherworldly connectedness, and includes moving from the self image controlled morning into the evening of life where everything is principally affected by reason.

As we mull over leaving the morning of our life, where personality has assumed an instructing part, and entering the evening (and nighttime), where significance and reason supplant desire and battle, we may experience unforeseen events that go with this new bearing. It's just about a general law that we'll encounter a fall or something to that affect. Yet these falls or low focuses give the vitality we have to move far from conscience and into a life of significance and reason.

The Shift doesn't imply that we lose our drive and desire; it means that we get to be aggressive about something new. We bring home the bacon a life focused around encountering importance and feeling intentional, as opposed to ceaseless requests and false guarantees that are the trademark of the inner self's motivation.

As Dr. Wayne W. Dyer so expressively uncovers in these pages, we all have the decision to movement our lives from desire to significance and in this way finish our come back to the Source

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Making the Shift

BY Dr. Wayne W. Dyer - How to live your true divine purpose

"The Shift" is a call to wind up more cognizant, to move from erratic Ambition . . . to Meaning and reason. Making this Shift is a need to carry on with a quiet, satisfying life adjusted to your Divine calling.

In this profoundly captivating live workshop, Dr. Wayne W. Dyer clarifies that as opposed to noticing the requests of the sense of self, which keep you buried in mischief toward oneself through endless supplications and false makes a guarantee to you, can decide to move in another course one that abandons the false self so you can recover your actual nature.

The conscience has pushed a large number of us far from our credible selves. In Making the Shift, Wayne uncovers how we can make that immeasurably vital U-turn and head over to the Source of being that made us.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

The Success Book

by John Randolph Price

This new book by the author of "The Abundance Book" explains how success is the natural order of the universe, the basic universal principle of good fortune and triumph. Price reveals the major obstacle to achieving success, how to condition consciousness to achieve the right livelihood, and how the law of fulfillment works through various mind-sets.

Some say author John Randolph Price is too "new agey" for their taste, but this reviewer finds his style to be a combination of old-fashioned prosperity writing, and pep-talk.
Now, granted, you have to be in a certain kind of mood to be receptive to a message that tells you that you should ignore the "effects of this world" (what your life is right now) and KNOW that you are ALREADY a success. Sometimes it's hard not to believe the evidence of your own life.

Still, there is hope and guidance in his words. He explains the time-worn but true concept of "you are what you THINK", illustrates the concept with some examples, and then goes on to give you a 60 day program of meditation to help you change your thoughts about success. (The 60-day Program is very spiritual in nature.)
That 60-day program is the real strength of this little book. If you allow yourself to "go with" the meditations, you'll find yourself feeling calmer, more peaceful, and more hopeful about your chances of success in all areas of your life.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

The Little Black Book of Success

by Elaine Meryl Brown

In this captivating and important "coach in your pocket," three dynamic and effective dark female officials impart their techniques to help all dark ladies, at any level of their vocations, play the force amusement and win.

Rich with astuteness, this reasonable jewel concentrates on the building squares of genuine authority fearlessness, powerful correspondence, cooperation, and strength while managing particularly with generalizations (evade the Mammy Trap, and don't turn into the Angry Black Woman) and the risks of abuse toward oneself (don't accept that each test happens in light of the fact that you are dark or female).

A few pioneers are conceived, yet most pioneers are made—and The Little Black Book of Success will demonstrate to you generally accepted methods to make it to the main, one stage at once.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Mindset : The New Psychology of Success

by Carol S. Dweck, Ph.D.

Incredibly famous Stanford University clinician Carol Dweck, in many years of examination on accomplishment and achievement, has found a really pivotal idea–the force of our outlook.

Dweck clarifies why its not only our capabilities and ability that bring us success–but whether we approach them with a settled or development mentality. She makes clear why adulating brainpower and capacity doesn't cultivate respect toward oneself and lead to achievement, yet might really endanger achievement.

With the right attitude, we can inspire our children and help them to raise their evaluations, and also achieve our own particular goals–personal and expert.

Dweck uncovers what all extraordinary folks, instructors, Ceos, and competitors know: how a straightforward thought regarding the cerebrum can make an affection of learning and a flexibility that is the premise of incredible achievement in every area.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

best crime books of all time

2014-09-25T11:34:00.000-07:00

Best
crime books of all time

To be able to distinguish the good from the bad or to pinpoint a criminal, one must read more crime books. The psychology of crime or the criminal minded person is essential to a normal person to identify such behaviors or acts. I believe that reading at least the top and best crime books of all time will give the reader a more perspective and intelligence of the situation when at hand.

These books are essentially required for investigators and peace officers and also good for any individual. The best part is reading them and also enjoying the thrills and drills in chase novels and masterminds.
The following is the list of the best crime books of all time. Enjoy !!

Helter Skelter

by Vincent Bugliosi The #1 True Crime Bestseller of All Time—7 Million Copies.

Sold In the late spring of 1969, in Los Angeles, an arrangement of fierce, apparently arbitrary killings caught features crosswise over America. A renowned performing artist (and her unborn kid), a beneficiary to an espresso fortune, a store holder and his wife were among the seven exploited people.

A dainty trail of circumstances inevitably tied the Tate-Lebianca homicides to Charles Manson, a would-be pop vocalist of little ability living in the desert with his "family" of dedicated youngsters and men.

What was his hold over them? What's more what was the inspiration driving such viciousness? In people in general creative energy, about whether, the case accepted the extents of myth. The homicides denoted the end of the sixties and turned into a prompt image of the dim underside of that period.

Vincent Bugliosi was the indicting lawyer in the Manson trial, and this book is his captivating record of how he assembled his case from what a protection lawyer released as just "two fingerprints and Vince Bugliosi." The careful investigator work with which the story starts, the prosecutor's perspective of a complex homicide trial, the reproduction of the rationality Manson taught in his intense adherents. These components make for a genuine wrongdoing fantastic. ?Harum scarum ?is not just a hypnotizing homicide case and court dramatization additionally, in the expressions of ?The New Republic?, a "social record of uncommon criticalness."

50 pages of highly contrasting photographs.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Deadly Vision

by Joe McGinniss

Fatal Vision is the charging genuine story of Dr. Jeffrey Macdonald, the good looking, Princeton-taught doctor declared guilty brutally killing his young pregnant wife and two little youngsters, murders he energetically denies submitting.

Top rated creator Joe Mcginnis narratives each part of this appalling and perplexing wrongdoing, and tests the life and mind of the attractive, all-American Jeffrey Macdonald, a brilliant kid who appeared bound to have everything. The result is an entrance to the heart of darknes that wrapped a standout amongst the most unpredictable criminal cases ever to catch the consideration of the American open. It is unpleasant, stunningly dramatic a work that no peruser will have the capacity to overlook.

With 8 pages of emotional photographs and an unique epilog by the creator.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Redrum The Innocent

by Kirk Makin

This book is basically a standout amongst the most charming, convincing un-put-down-capable books in the whole True Crime kind. As I would see it positions up there with classics like Helter Skelter or Fatal Vision. Like those books, what makes this book so captivating is the thrown of strange characters all rotating around an unspeakable wrongdoing.

A kid is killed, the police get to be persuaded that the nutty neighbor is the liable party and seek after with him with savagery and determination, regardless of an absence of any true proof. In the mean time the victimized person's family has their loathsome mysteries which are uncovered in the process of the examination.

At the point when the prime suspect is at last absolved by DNA proof, all that is left are broken lives, broken professions, and a youngster killer who escaped with homicide.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Small Sacrifices : A true story of passion and murder

by Ann Rule

This seeking examination of the shooting of three kids in Oregon by their mother lapses into an investigation of identity. In May of 1983, Diane Downs headed to a Williamette Valley doctor's facility crisis room with her kids, all gravely injured; one did not survive the first hour, and the other two were handicapped forever.

Downs at first recounted a "shaggy haired outsider" who had carried out the wrongdoing, yet as often as possible transformed her story. Under police addressing she reviewed her adolescence with a cool, overbearing father who mishandled her sexually, her frail mother, an assault by one of her supervisors, her fizzled marriage and numerous men with whom she had intercourse.

One of these men, whom she guaranteed to love, did not need kids, and that may have provoked the wrongdoing, conjectures the creator. The best quality of this book is the investigation by ex-policewoman Rule (The Stranger Beside Me of the abnormal identity of Downs, who is presently detained and not qualified for parole until 2009.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Best Cooking Books of All Time

2014-09-25T10:28:00.001-07:00

Cooking is has been one of mankind's way of survival and uplifting from thousands of years after man discovered fire. This article brings out the top and best cooking books of all time. But before i present this books, here is a short information about cooking.

Best
Cooking books of all time

Cooking or cookery is the specialty of the knowledge of nourishment for utilization with high temperature. Cooking methods and add-ins differ generally over the world, reflecting extraordinary ecological, monetary, and social conventions and patterns. The way that cooking happens additionally relies on upon the aptitude and kind of preparing an individual cook has. Cooking can likewise happen through substance responses without the vicinity of high temperature, most eminently with Ceviche, a customary South American dish where fish is cooked with the acids in lemon or lime juice. Sushi additionally utilizes a comparative substance response in the middle of fish and the acidic substance of rice coated with vinegar.

Chicken, pork and bacon-wrapped corn cooked in a grill smoker

Get ready nourishment with high temperature or flame is an action novel to people, and researchers accept the approach of cooking assumed an imperative part in human evolution. Most anthropologists accept that cooking blazes initially created around 250,000 years back. The development of agribusiness, trade, exchange and transportation between civic establishments in diverse districts offered cooks a lot of people new fixings. New innovations and advances, for example, earthenware for holding and bubbling water, stretched cooking procedures. Some current cooks apply progressive logical procedures to nourishment arrangement.

I present you the best cooking books of all time.

One Pot

by Martha Stewart Living

One Pot is an energizing better approach to ordinary cooking: Imagine impeccable pasta dishes for which everything goes in the pot without a moment's delay (yes, that is pasta, tomato, garlic, basil, and water all cooked together), supper gathering prepared meals with delicate vegetables, and down-home goulashes, alongside wholesome fish, chicken, and vegan dishes.

You'll get mind blowing flavor result from dishes, for example, soothing Chicken and Dumplings, simple Baked Risotto with Carrots and Squash, solid Broiled Striped Bass with Tomatoes, healthy Pork Chops with Bacon and Cabbage, and the luscious Skillet Chocolate-Chip Cookie—each of which takes short of what a hour through and through.

Here, as well, are twelve remarkable formulas for shocking and straightforward sweets that could be prepared when you are.
Utilizing only one dish, you can stew, steam, sauté, stew, braise, or broil your path to a complain free feast and insignificant cleanup to boot.

At the end of an occupied day, you need to serve a tasty home-cooked supper, a finish, in with no reservations one dinner that might be arranged with little exertion and few skillet to wash. The editors of Martha Stewart Living present a brand-new gathering of 120 formulas composed by vessel—to help you do simply that, all while adding flavorful new dishes to your week by week revolution.

With parts gave to your fundamental cooking vessels—stockpot, skillet, moderate cooker, and then some. This book is certain to streamline your dinners and to fulfill the individuals you impact.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

The Skinnytaste Cookbook: Light on Calories, Big on Flavor

by Gina Homolka

Gina Homolka is America's most trusted home cook concerning simple, delightful formulas that are inexplicably low-calorie and produced using all-regular, simple to-discover fixings. Her blog, Skinnytaste is the most obvious go-to webpage for thinned down formulas that you'd swear are anything besides.

It just takes one look to see why individuals go insane for Gina's sustenance: gooey, smooth Fettuccini Alfredo with Chicken and Broccoli with just 420 calories for every serving, breakfast dishes like Make-Ahead Western Omelet "Biscuits" that really top you off until lunchtime, and desserts, for example, Double Chocolate Chip Walnut Cookies that are low in sugar and spread free yet at the same time completely liberal.

The Skinnytaste Cookbook offers 150 stunning formulas: 125 all-new dishes and 25 must-have top choices. As an occupied mother of two, Gina began Skinnytaste when she needed to lose a couple of pounds herself. She turned to Weight Watchers for help and loved the system yet attempted to discover enough enticing formulas to help her stay on track. Rather, she began "thin fying" her most loved dinners so she could consume cheerfully while getting more fit.

With 100 shocking photos and itemized dietary data for each formula, The Skinnytaste Cookbook is a mind blowing asset of satisfying, delight instigating suppers that each home cook will love.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

Meals Made Simple

by Danielle Walker

Darling nourishment blogger and New York Times top of the line writer Danielle Walker is over with in excess of 100 new Paleo formulas in her sophomore cookbook, Meals Made Simple—an accumulation of without gluten without dairy and Paleo-accommodating formulas for simple weeknight suppers.

Diagnosed with an immune system sickness at twenty-two, Danielle Walker used numerous years done and finished with the healing facility and on high measurements of incapacitating meds before taking her wellbeing into her hands and definitely transforming her eating regimen. In a genuine lemons-to-lemonade story, Danielle changed her afflictions into circumstances and made her fiercely effective web journal, Against All Grain, in an exertion to help those in need consume well and feel incredible, without feeling denied.

With formulas that make cooking for the without grain family both simple and charming, Meals Made Simple answers the age-old question: "What's for supper?" Danielle Walker takes the mystery out of feast arranging with eight weeks' value of supper plans, complete with full shopping records and formulas for utilizing up remains. Whether we're mothers, understudies, or entrepreneurs, at the end of the day we all need crisp, home-cooked suppers that are not difficult to plan. What's more we need bunches of mixture.

Planning genuine nourishments might be tedious and repetitive, however Danielle brings both straightforwardness and inventiveness to the ordinary supper with an excitement for flavors and compositions that are frequently needing in simple weeknight dishes. Dinners Made Simple incorporates a mixture of moderate cooker, one-pot, and thirty-moment suppers, and also approaches to make totally new dishes from scraps.

As in her basically acclaimed first cookbook, Against All Grain, Danielle offers unique "goodies" to help guarantee that your suppers turn out picture-great. The lively flavors and colors in these without grain dishes, in the same way as moderate cooked Pork Ragu, Beef Stroganoff, Peruvian-Style Chicken, Chicken and Rice Casserole, and Barbecue Salmon with Peach Salsa, add joy to any feast and put an end to every one of those nights of ordinary barbecued chicken and steamed vegetables.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

100 days of Real Food

by Lisa Leake

The designer of the 100 Days of Real Food site draws from her colossally prevalent site to offer basic, moderate, family-accommodating formulas and commonsense guidance for killing handled nourishments from your family's eating methodology.

Motivated by Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food, Lisa Leake chose her family's dietary patterns required a redesign. She, her spouse, and their two little young ladies swore to go 100 days without consuming exceptionally handled or refined sustenances a test she opened to perusers on her blog.

Presently, she imparts their story, offering experiences and expense cognizant formulas everybody can use to revel in wholesome common nourishment entire grains, foods grown from the ground, fish, mainly raised meats, characteristic juices, dried products of the soil, seeds, popcorn, regular nectar, and that's only the tip of the iceberg.

Represented with 125 photos and loaded with regulated guidelines, this involved cookbook and aide incorporates: Guidance for exploring the market and making savvy buys

Tips for perusing add-in marks

100 snappy and simple formulas for such top choices as Homemade Chicken Nuggets, Whole Wheat Pasta with Kale Pesto Cream Sauce, and Cinnamon Glazed Popcorn

Feast arrangements and proposals for child satisfying school snacks, gatherings, and snacks

"True Food" accounts from the Leakes' own particular encounters.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Make It Ahead

by Ina Garten

Shockingly, trusted and darling cookbook writer Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa, answers the most obvious inquiry she gets from cooks: Can I make it ahead?

In the event that you've ever ended up stuck before the stove at your own particular gathering, scrambling to get everything to the table at simply the right minute, Ina is here to give you access on her privileged insights! On account of twenty years of running a claim to fame nourishment store and fifteen years composing cookbooks, she has adapted precisely which dishes you can prepare, gather, or cook early.

Whether you're facilitating a get-together or essentially making supper on a wild weeknight, Ina provides for you loads of astounding formulas that taste pretty much as great or far better!—when they're made ahead of time.

In Make It Ahead, every formula incorporates clear guidelines for what you can do early, and how far ahead of time, so you can cook with certainty and kill a minute ago astonishes. Make a pitcher of Summer Rosé Sangria loaded with red berries, let it chill overnight for the flavors to create, and you have a delectable toast offer your companions the moment they arrive. Stew a pot of Wild Mushroom & Farro Soup, delight in a vessel for lunch, and stop the rest for a crisp nighttime.

You can prepare the kale, Brussels sprouts, and lemon vinaigrette for Winter Slaw early and essentially throw them together before serving. Collect French Chicken Pot Pies loaded with artichokes and new tarragon a day ahead of time and after that pop them in the broiler 30 prior minutes supper.

What's more for sweet, everybody needs the formula for Ina's Decadent (without gluten Chocolate Cake finished with Make-Ahead Whipped Cream. Ina likewise incorporates formulas for the greatest cooking day of the year—Thanksgiving! Her Ultimate Make-Ahead Roast Turkey and Gravy with Onions & Sage may simply change your life.

With wonderful photos and several important make-ahead tips, this is your new go-to guide for get ready suppers that are anxiety free yet loaded with those astonishingly fulfilling flavors that you now anticipate from the Barefoot Contessa.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

best economics books of all time

2014-09-25T07:22:00.001-07:00

Best
Economics Books of all time

To all economic science enthusiast, the subsequent is a list of the combined best selling economics books of all time. The list is gathered from most eCommerce website from their high mercantilism economic science books from years.

However, before we have a tendency to dig into these books, maybe you would possibly need to checkout the necessity of studying economic science to refresh your mind.

Economics is the science that studies economic activity to realize an understanding of the processes that govern the assembly, distribution and consumption of products and services in an exchange economy.

In other words the term economic science comes from the traditional Greek οἰκονομία (oikonomia, "management of a unit, administration") from οἶκος (oikos, "house") and νόμος (nomos, "custom" or "law"), thence "rules of the house(hold permanently management)".

I would recommend the most importance of economic science helps society select the optimum allocation of our restricted resources. the elemental downside of economic is claimed to be deficiency - the concept that desires (demand) is larger than the resources we've. often we have a tendency to face selections on:

What to provide
the way to turn out
For whom to provide

Economics helps to come to a decision on queries like this. additional specifically economic science is vital in these areas. But as a normal person or a non economist, at least reading more than 2 of the following listed best economics books of all time will position you not to be a mediocre or should profit your way of judgement to an economic situation in your personal life.

If you however happen to have read any of the following books or you anticipate to read, please share your thought or reaction for others to participate. Enjoy..

The Wealth of nations

by adam smith

It is symbolic that Adam Smith’s masterpiece of economic analysis, The Wealth of nations, was initial revealed in 1776, constant year as the Declaration of Independence.

In his book, Smith fierily extolled the easy yet enlightened notion that people are absolutely capable of setting and control costs for his or her own product and services. He argued stormily in favor of trade, however stood up for the small guy. The Wealth of states provided the first--and still the foremost eloquent--integrated description of the workings of a economy.

The results of Smith’s efforts could be a humorous , extremely legible work of genius full of discerning theories that kind the premise of a thriving capitalist system. This uncut edition offers the fashionable reader a recent examine a unaltered and seminal work that revolutionized the means governments and people read the creation and dispersion of wealth--and that continues to influence our economy right up to this day.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money

by John Maynard Keynes.

The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money was composed by the English economist John Maynard Keynes. The book, for the most part thought to be his perfect work of art, is to a great extent credited with making the phrasing and state of cutting edge macroeconomics.

Published in February 1936, it tried to realize an upheaval, usually alluded to as the "Keynesian Revolution", in the way economists thought – particularly in connection to the recommendation that a business sector economy tends characteristically to restore itself to full job after provisional stuns.

Viewed generally as the foundation of Keynesian thought, the book tested the secured established trading and lending and presented critical ideas, for example, the utilization work, the multiplier, the negligible proficiency of capital, the guideline of viable interest and liquidity inclination.

Most instructed Americans know something of John Maynard Keynes, the incredible British economist whose gigantically compelling work "T"the General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money", emphatically affected financial hypothesis and work on amid the last a large portion of the twentieth century, especially with respect to the part of government in fortifying and managing a nation's' monetary life.

He doesn't by and large dis-affirm himself, as some assert, past the level of indecision normal in most circumstances of any individual who understands he is treating an estimated science where numerous clashing perspectives can hold some case to authenticity. Rather, what makes Keynes' work a perfect sleepy time partner for those perpetrated with a sleeping disorder is the over the top forethought

the creator takes to be completely exact, the to some degree obsolescent 1930's British English

utilized (however some, including the present analyst, may see that as one of its charms)

what's more the customary utilization of Latin expressions well known to Keynes and his peers, for example, e.g., "ceteris paribus" (generally interpreted "in light of present circumstances", negligible to American perusers whose developmental university experience included minimal in the method for remote dialects of any sort, in addition to established ones. The trap in perusing Keynes is to get past these bothers of bundling and unwrap the true endowment of plans encase.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Freakonomics

by Steven Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner

Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything is a genuine book by University of Chicago economist Steven Levitt and New York Times writer Stephen J. Dubner. It was distributed on April 12, 2005 by William Morrow. The book has been depicted as merging popular society with economics.by late 2009, the book had sold in excess of 4 million duplicates around the world.

The book is an accumulation of "financial" articles composed by Levitt, a master who has effectively picked up a notoriety for applying monetary hypothesis to different subjects not typically secured by "conventional" economists; he does, notwithstanding, acknowledge the standard neoclassical microeconomic model of judicious utility-expansion. In Freakonomics, Levitt and Dubner contend that money making concerns is, at root, the investigation of motivating forces. The book's points include:

Part 1: Discovering deceiving as connected to instructors and sumo wrestlers, and additionally a commonplace Washington DC territory bagel business and its clients

Part 2: Information control as connected to the Ku Klux Klan and land executors

Part 3: The commercial concerns of medication managing, including the shockingly low profit and miserable working states of split cocaine merchants

Part 4: The part sanctioned premature birth has played in lessening wrongdoing, stood out from the arrangements and ruin of Romanian despot Nicolae Ceauşescu (Levitt investigated this point in a prior paper entitled "The Impact of Legalized Abortion on Crime.")

Part 5: The unimportant impacts of great child rearing on instruction

Part 6: The financial examples of naming youngsters (nominative determinism)

One illustration of the creators' utilization of monetary hypothesis includes showing the presence of bamboozling among sumo wrestlers. In a sumo competition, all wrestlers in the top division contend in 15 matches and face downgrade on the off chance that they don't win no less than eight of them. The sumo group is affectionate, and the wrestlers at the top levels have a tendency to know one another well.

The creators took a gander at the last match, and considered the instance of a wrestler with seven wins, seven misfortunes, and one battle to set out for some, battling against a 8-6 wrestler. Measurably, the 7-7 wrestler ought to have a marginally beneath even risk, since the 8-6 wrestler is somewhat better. On the other hand, the 7-7 wrestler really wins around 80% of the time.

Levitt utilizes this fact and other information gathered from sumo wrestling matches, alongside the impact that affirmations of debasement have on match results, to reason that the individuals who as of now have 8 wins conspire with the individuals who are 7-7 and let them win, since they have effectively secured their position for the accompanying competition. Regardless of judgment of the cases by the Japan Sumo Association after the book's distribution in 2005, the 2011 Grand Tournament in Tokyo was crossed out shockingly since 1946 as a result of charges of match settling.

The creators endeavor to show the force of information mining, as various their results rise up out of Levitt's investigation of different databases. The creators place that different motivating forces sway educators to trick by supporting their understudies with various decision high-stakes tests.

Such duping in the Chicago educational system is derived from nitty gritty dissection of understudies' responses to various decision questions. Anyhow first Levitt wants, "What would the example from answers look like if the instructor swindled?" The basic reply: the more troublesome inquiries found at the end of test areas will be addressed effectively more every now and again than the simple inquiries at the start of test segments.

Economics in one lesson

by Henry Hazlitt

Economics in One Lesson is a prologue to free market mass trading composed by Henry Hazlitt and initially distributed in 1946. It is focused around Frédéric Bastiat's article Ce qu'on voit et ce qu'on ne voit pas (English: "What is Seen and What is Not Seen").

The "One Lesson" is expressed in Part One of the book:

The specialty of mass trading comprises in looking not only at the quick however at the more extended impacts of any demonstration or approach; it comprises in following the outcomes of that strategy not simply for one gathering yet for all gatherings.

Section Two comprises of twenty-four sections, each one exhibiting the lesson by following the impacts of one normal monetary conviction, and uncovering basic financial conviction as an arrangement of errors.

Among its approach proposals are the support of facilitated commerce, a resistance to value controls, a restriction to financial swelling, and a resistance to stimulative legislative consumptions:

There are men viewed today as splendid economists, who deplore sparing and suggest misusing on a national scale as the method for financial salvation; and when anybody focuses to what the results of these strategies will be over the long haul, they answer carelessly, as may the extravagant child of a cautioning father: 'Over the long haul we are all dead.' And such shallow wisecracks pass as destroying quips and the ripest astuteness.

"The individuals who wish to contemplate the approach ramifications of the Austrian view at more noteworthy length can't show improvement over grabbing a duplicate of Henry Hazlitt's Economics in One Lesson. Hazlitt is one of the finest journalists ever to handle monetary issues. In this book, motivated by Bastiat's origination of the seen and unseen parts of strategy, he inspects a wide assortment of financial intercessions." — Gene Callahan

"Henry Hazlitt's clarification of how a value framework functions is a genuine fantastic: timeless, right, effortlessly educational." — Milton Friedman

"I unequivocally propose that each American get some fundamental learning of matters of trade and profit, financial approach, and the convergence of legislative issues with the economy. No formal classroom is obliged; a craving to peruse and learn will suffice. There are innumerable paramount books to consider, yet the accompanying are a fantastic beginning stage: The Law by Frédéric Bastiat; Economics in One Lesson by Henry Hazlitt; What has Government Done to our Money? by Murray Rothbard;

The Road to Serfdom by Friedrich Hayek; and Economics for Real People by Gene Callahan. ... On the off chance that you basically read and understand these moderately short messages, you will know much more than most instructed individuals about matters of trade and profit and government.

You absolutely will create a far more prominent understanding of how probably kind government arrangements decimate thriving. In the event that you think about the eventual fate of this nation, arm yourself with learning and battle over against monetary lack of awareness. We dismiss money matters and history at our own particular danger."

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Top selling sports books

2014-09-17T08:21:00.003-07:00

Top
Selling Sports Books

As a sports enthusiast, a broader range and more perspective from great sports writers will broaden your spectrum on the recreational activity and open more understanding on the game.

The following top selling sports books displays what is selling at the top now on amazon and other top sports category books e-stores.

Why are people buying these sports books? Perhaps there are some special qualities with these books and that is what this blog is all about. To bring you what excels so your life will be great with intelligent ideas.

If Sport (or sports) is all styles of typically competitive physical activity that, through casual or union participation, aim to use, maintain or improve ability and skills whereas providing recreation to participants, then i believe that one must find these kind qualities in the top selling sports books.

Sport is recognized as activities that are based mostly in physical strenuosity or physical adroitness, with the biggest major competitions like the Olympic Games admitting only athletic contest this definition, and different organizations like the Council of Europe exploitation definitions precluding activities while not a physical component from classification as sports. However, variety of competitive, however non-physical, activities claim recognition as mind sports.

The International Olympic Committee (through ARISF) recognizes each chess and bridge as factual sports, and Sport Accord, the international sports federation association, recognizes 5 non-physical sports, though limits the quantity of mind games which might be admitted as sports. The following are the top selling sports books you can find at most of the e-commerce sites.

The Closer

by Mariano Rivera

The greatest pitcher of all time shares his extraordinary story of survival, love, and baseball.

Mariano Rivera, the person who intimidated thousands of batters simply by opening a bullpen door, began his unbelievable journey because the son of a poor Panamanian fisherman. once first scouted by the Yankees, he did not even own his own glove.

He thought he would possibly create a decent mechanic. once discovered, he had never flown in an aeroplane, had never detected of Babe Ruth, spoke no English, and could not imagine point of entry, the town wherever he was headed to start a career that will become one amongst baseball's most painting. What he did know: that he white-haired his family and his then girlfriend, Clara, that he may trust within the Lord to guide him, which he may throw a baseball precisely wherever he wished to, every time.

With astonishing candor, rivera tells the story of the championships, the bosses (including The Boss), the rivalries, and therefore the struggles of being a Latino baseball player within the U.S and of maintaining Christian values in skilled athletics.

The thirteen-time All-Star discusses his drive to win; the secrets behind his legendary composure; the story of however he discovered his cut fastball; the much, pitch-by-pitch account of the ninth playing period of Game seven within the 2001 World Series; and why the bottom moment of his career became one amongst his greatest blessings.

In The nearer, rivera takes readers into the yank building, wherever his teammates are his brothers. however he additionally takes United States on it jog from the bullpen to the mound, wherever the sport -- or the season -- rests squarely on his shoulders. we have a tendency to come back to know the laserlike focus that's his hallmark, and the way his religion and his family unbroken his feet firmly on the pitching rubber.

Several of the tools he used thus systematically and graciously came from what was within him for a awfully long-standing -- his deep passion for life; his enduring commitment to Clara, whom he met in kindergarten; and his innate sense for obtaining out of a jam.

When rivera retired, the total world watched -- and cheered. within the nearer, we have a tendency to come back to a fair larger appreciation of a legend designed from the bottom up.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Tiger, Meet My Sister

by Rick Reilly

Rick Reilly has been referred to as “one of the funniest humans on the planet—an inexpressible amalgam of Dave Barry, Jim Murray, and Lewis Grizzard, with the temporal order of Jay Leno and therefore the wit of Johnny Carson” (Publishers Weekly). In Tiger, Meet My Sister, Reilly compiles the simplest of his columns from his last 5 years with ESPN, columns that may cause you to laugh, cry—and quite few that will cause you to need to throw this book across the room. Rick Reilly tends to induce beneath people’s skin like that.

He has no rue telling readers, in his singular quick-witted vogue, however he extremely feels concerning some of the foremost well-liked sports figures of our time. curious concerning quarterback Jay Cutler? “Cutler is that the quite guy you only need to choose up and throw into a swimming pool, that is precisely what Peyton Manning and 2 linemen did one year at the professional Bowl.”

Or however concerning Tiger Woods? “Sometimes you marvel wherever Tiger Woods gets his public-relations recommendation. urban center Busy?” except for each brazen takedown, Reilly has written a moving story of the ability of sports to heal the wounded and carry the downtrodden: the young Ravens fan with cancer who referred to as the plays for a few—victorious—games in 2012, or the erstwhile high NFL recruit who was finally innocent when serving 5 years for against the law he didn’t commit.

With a brand new introduction and updates from Reilly on his most talked-about columns, moreover as his skilled opinion on jock tattoos, NFL cheerleaders, and running with the bulls in Pamplona, Tiger, Meet My Sister showcases associate uncomparable sports writer at the highest of his...

CHECKOUT PRICE AND READ MORE REVIEWS

The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics

by Daniel James Brown

Daniel James Brown’s robust book tells the story of the University of Washington’s 1936 eight-oar crew and their epic quest for an Olympic gold medal, a team that transformed the sport and grabbed the attention of millions of Americans.

The sons of loggers, shipyard workers, and farmers, the boys defeated elite rivals first from eastern and British universities and finally the German crew rowing for Adolf Hitler in the Olympic games in Berlin, 1936.

The emotional heart of the story lies with one rower, Joe Rantz, a teenager without family or prospects, who rows not for glory, but to regain his shattered self-regard and to find a place he can call home.

The crew is assembled by an enigmatic coach and mentored by a visionary, eccentric British boat builder, but it is their trust in each other that makes them a victorious team. They remind the country of what can be done when everyone quite literally pulls together—a perfect melding of commitment, determination, and optimism.

Drawing on the boys’ own diaries and journals, their photos and memories of a once-in-a-lifetime shared dream, The Boys in the Boat is an irresistible story about beating the odds and finding hope in the most desperate of times—the improbable, intimate story of nine working-class boys from the American west who, in the depths of the Great Depression, showed the world what true grit really meant.

It will appeal to readers of Erik Larson, Timothy Egan, James Bradley, and David Halberstam's The Amateurs.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

Michael Jordan : The Life

by Roland Lezenby

"It's not on a daily basis that i am blown away by a book a couple of sports figure. however michael JORDAN: THE LIFE, by Roland Lazenby, ranks up there with the very best: The Boys of Summer by Roger kahn, Friday Night Lights by Buzz Bissinger, and joe dimaggio by Richard ben Cramer.

The depth of coverage, his frequent ascent into poetry, and his intelligent analysis of the lifetime of this difficult, fascinating yankee icon be pulitzer Prize thought.

For the primary time I perceive what makes michael Jordan tick. I became captivated, fascinated and enchanted from commencing to finish." -- Peter Golenbock, the big apple Times-bestselling author of Saint George and within the Country of borough

The definitive life history of a legendary jock

The Shrug. The Shot. The flu Game. michael Jordan is liable for chic moments therefore planted in sports history that they need their own names. once the majority consider him, they consider his stunning shots with the sport on the road, his body altogether in adjust with the ball -- touch nothing however net.

But for all his greatness, this descendent of a posh family from North Carolina's land features a darker side: he is a unmerciful competition and a friend of high stakes. there is ne'er been a life history that encompassed the twin nature of his character and looked therefore deeply at Jordan on and off the court -- up to now.

Basketball journalist Roland Lazenby spent nearly thirty years covering michael Jordan's career in school and therefore the professionals. He witnessed Jordan's growth from a thin novice to the instantly recognizable international ambassador for basketball whose business savvy and success have various youngsters still eager to be a bit like mike. nevertheless Lazenby additionally witnessed the archangel Jordan whose drive and appetence ar a lot of terrible and a lot of unsatiable than any of his fans may begin to understand. michael Jordan: The Life explores either side of his temperament to reveal the fullest, most compelling story of the person United Nations agency is archangel Jordan.

Lazenby attracts on his personal relationships with Jordan's coaches; numberless interviews with Jordan's friends, teammates, and family members; and interviews with Jordan himself to produce the primary actually definitive study of archangel Jordan: the player, the icon, and therefore the man.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND READ MORE REVIEWS

Unbroken: A world war II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption

by Laura Hillenbrand

#1 new york TIMES BESTSELLER • soon TO BE a significant picture • Hailed because the high prose book of the year by Time magazine • Winner of the la Times Book Prize for biography and therefore the Indies alternative Adult prose Book of the Year award

On a may afternoon in 1943, a military Air Forces bomber crashed into the ocean and disappeared, exploit only a sprig of junk and a slick of oil, gasoline, and blood. Then, on the ocean surface, a face appeared. it had been that of a young lieutenant, the plane’s bombardier, who was troubled to a raft and actuation himself aboard. thus began one among the foremost extraordinary odysseys of the Second world war.

The lieutenant’s name was louis Zamperini. In boyhood, he’d been a crafty and unregenerate delinquent, breaking into homes, brawling, and fleeing his home to ride the rails. As a young person, he had channeled his defiance into running, discovering a prodigious talent that had carried him to the Berlin athletics and obtainable of the four-minute mile. however when war had come back, the jock had become an aviator, embarking on a journey that light-emitting diode to his doomed flight, a small raft, and a drift into the unknown.

Ahead of Zamperini lay thousands of miles of open ocean, leap sharks, a going under raft, thirst and starvation, enemy craft, and, beyond, an effort even bigger. Driven to the bounds of endurance, Zamperini would answer desperation with ingenuity; suffering with hope, resolve, and humor; brutality with rebellion. His fate, whether or not triumph or tragedy, would be suspended on the fraying wire of his can.

In her long-awaited new book, Laura Hillenbrand writes with a similar wealthy and vivid narrative voice she displayed in Seabiscuit. Telling an lingering story of a man’s journey into extremity, Unbroken could be a testament to the resilience of the human mind, body, and spirit.

Praise for Unbroken

“Extraordinarily moving . . . a powerfully drawn survival epic.”—The Wall Street Journal

“[A] one-in-a-billion story . . . designed to wrench from self-respectful critics all the blurby adjectives we tend to ordinarily attempt to avoid: it's wonderful, lingering, gripping, harrowing, chilling, and galvanizing.”—New York

“Staggering . . . spellbinding . . . Hillenbrand’s writing is thus fiercely medium, the events she describes thus unimaginable, you don’t dare take your eyes off the page.”—People

“A meticulous, soaring and fantastically written record of a rare life.”—The Washington Post

“Ambitious and powerful . . . a surprising narrative Associate in Nursingd an sacred book.”—The the big apple Times review

“Marvelous . . . Unbroken is rattling double over, for the story it tells and for the approach it’s told. . . . It manages most rate with no loss of subtlety.”—Newsweek

“Moving and, yes, sacred . . . [Laura] Hillenbrand’s lingering book . . . deserve[s] pride of place aboard the simplest works of literature that chart the complications and therefore the hard-won triumphs of questionable standard Americans and their extraordinary time.”—Maureen Corrigan, Fresh Air

“Hillenbrand . . . tells [this] story with cool magnificence however at an exciting sprinter’s pace.”—Time

“Unbroken is simply too a lot of book to hope for: a hellride of a story within the grip of the one author World Health Organization will handle it.”—Christopher McDougall, author of Born to Run

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

When The Game Was Ours

by Larry Bird

From the instant these 2 players took the court on opposing sides, they engaged in a very fierce physical and psychological battle. Their uncommonly competitive relationship came to symbolize the foremost compelling competition within the NBA. These were the basketball epics of the 1980s--Celtics vs Lakers, East vs West, physical vs tact, old style vs showtime, even white vs black.

Every pushed the opposite to greatness--together Bird and Johnson collected eight NBA Championships, and half-dozen player awards and helped save the floundering NBA at its most important time. once it started they were bitter rivals, however on the approach they became long friends.

With intimate, fly-on-the-wall detail, once the sport Was Ours transports readers to the current electrical era of basketball and divulges for the primary time the inner workings of 2 players bent on on besting each other. From the exciting days of commerce championships to the darker days of injury and unwellness, we tend to return to grasp Larry's neurotic devotion to winning and the way his demons drove him on the court.

We tend to hear him speak with candor concerning taking part in through chronic pain and its actually exacting toll. In Magic we tend to see a young, unvanquished star struggle with the sting of defeat, not even as a player however as a team leader. we tend to square measure there the instant he learns he is contracted HIV and listen to in his own words however that devastating news compact his relationships in basketball and on the far side. But always, in each cases, we tend to see them prevail.

A compelling, up-close-and-personal portrait of basketball's most unreproducible pair, once the sport Was Ours could be a evaluation of 3 decades in counterpoint. it's conjointly a coltish ride through skilled basketball's best times.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest trail

By Cheryl Strayed

A powerful, blazingly honest memoir: the story of associate degree eleven-hundred-mile solo hike that bust down a young woman reeling from catastrophe—and designed her make a copy once more.

At twenty-two, Cheryl Strayed thought she had lost everything. within the wake of her mother's death, her family scattered and her own wedding was before long destroyed. Four years later, with nothing a lot of to lose, she created the foremost impulsive call of her life: to hike the Pacific Crest path from the mojave desert through California and Beaver State to Washington State—and to try and do it alone. She had no expertise as a long-distance walker, and therefore the path was very little over “an plan, obscure and eccentric and packed with promise.” however it absolutely was a promise of piecing back along a life that had come back undone.

Strayed faces down rattlesnakes and black bears, intense heat and record snowfalls, and each the sweetness and loneliness of the path. Told with nice suspense and elegance, sparkling with heat and humor, Wild vividly captures the terrors and pleasures of 1 file shaping ahead against all odds on a journey that infuriated, reinforced, and ultimately well her.

CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

The Sports Gene

by David Epstein

The debate is as recent as physical competition. are stars like Usain Bolt, Michael Phelps, and Serena Williams genetic freaks placed on Earth to dominate their several sports? Or are they merely traditional folks that overcame their biological limits through sheer force of can and neurotic training?

In this controversial and fascinating exploration of athletic success and therefore the alleged ten,000-hour rule, David epstein tackles the good nature vs. nurture dialogue and traces however way science has are available determination it.

Through on-the-ground coverage from below the equator and on top of the Arctic Circle, revealing conversations with leading scientists and Olympic champions, and interviews with athletes who have rare genetic mutations or physical traits, epstein forces United States to rethink the terribly nature of vigor.
CHECKOUT PRICE WITH MORE REVIEWS

best fiction books of all time

2014-09-15T11:27:00.001-07:00

Best
fiction books
of all time

Fictional stories or books are written with wild imagination from great authors. Fiction is actually a fantasy that ignite creativity in most readers mind.

Perhaps you can check how fiction makes our brains better and be more interested and be more anticipated. If you are fond of fiction like then you will love the following list. Fiction is the fuel to creativity.

Below are the list of the best fictional books of all time. This books are compiled and rated by some of the top websites like goodreads.com and wikipedia.

To Kill a Mockingbird

by Harper Lee

To Kill a mockingbird is a novel by harper Lee printed in 1960. it had been straight off triple-crown, winning the Joseph Pulitzer Prize, and has become a classic of contemporary american literature. The plot and characters are loosely supported the author's observations of her family and neighbors, also as on an incident that occurred close to her town in 1936, once she was ten years old.

The novel is celebrated for its heat and humor, despite coping with the intense problems with rape and racial difference. The narrator's father, atticus finch, has served as an ethical hero for several readers and as a model of integrity for lawyers.

One critic explains the novel's impact by writing, "In the 20th century, To Kill a mockingbird is actually the foremost wide read book coping with race in America, and its protagonist, atticus finch, the foremost enduring fictional image of racial valiancy."

As a Southern Gothic novel and a Bildungsroman, the first themes of To Kill a mockingbird involve racial injustice and also the destruction of innocence. students have noted that Lee additionally addresses problems with category, courage, compassion, and gender roles within the american geographic area. The book is wide schooled in colleges within the u. s. with lessons that emphasize tolerance and condemn prejudice. Despite its themes, To Kill a mockingbird has been subject to campaigns for removal from public lecture rooms, usually challenged for its use of racial epithets.

Reaction to the novel varied wide upon publication. Literary analysis of it's thin, considering the quantity of copies sold-out and its widespread use in education. Author mary McDonough murphy, who collected individual impressions of the book by many authors and public figures, calls To Kill a mockingbird "an astonishing phenomenon". In 2006, British librarians hierarchic the book sooner than the Bible joined "every adult ought to read before they die". it had been custom-made into an Oscar-winning film in 1962 by director robert mulligan, with a playscript by Horton Foote. Since 1990, a play supported the novel has been performed annually in harper Lee's town of Monroeville, Alabama. To date, it's Lee's solely printed novel, and though she continues to reply to the book's impact, she has refused any personal packaging for herself or the novel since 1964.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

The Hunger Games

by Suzann Collins

The Hunger Games is a transmission franchise created by Suzanne Collins. Set within the Hunger Games universe, the franchise began with The Hunger Games, the primary book within the Hunger Games series and trilogy. The novels are developed into a series of films.

The novels within the three seasons are titled The Hunger Games, Catching fire and Mockingjay. the primary 2 novels are developed into films, whereas the third novel is presently being developed into 2 films. Soundtracks have also been free.

The Hunger Games universe is a dystopia set in "Panem", a rustic consisting of the rich Capitol and twelve districts in variable states of economic condition. Every year, youngsters are chosen to participate during a mandatory annual televised death match referred to as The Hunger Games.

The first novel, The Hunger Games, was written by Suzanne Collins and purchased by Scholastic Corporation in 2006. it had been free in 2008. The second novel (Catching Fire) was free in 2009 and also the third (Mockingjay) was free in 2010.

The first series in movies was titled The Hunger Games and showcased in 2012;[4] the second season is that the Hunger Games: Catching fire (2013).The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – half one and also the Hunger Games: Mockingjay – half a pair of area unit set to be free in 2014 and 2015.

Additional media among the franchise embody soundtracks from the primary 2 films: The Hunger Games: Songs from District twelve and on the far side and also the Hunger Games: Catching hearth – Original picture sound recording.

Years before the beginning of the series, the 13 districts tried to start out a revolution against the Capitol. The Capitol won, District thirteen was destroyed and, as penalty, an annual televised death match referred to as The Hunger Games was created by the Capitol. One male and one feminine participants, called tributes, between the ages of twelve and eighteen area unit chosen every which way during a "reaping" from every district. youngsters might volunteer as a tribute rather than choice by ballot. they're taken to AN arena and fight till just one is left alive.

Katniss Everdeen could be a 16-year-old woman from District twelve who volunteers for the 74th Hunger Games once her 12-year-old sister herbaceous plant Everdeen is picked for reaping. She survives the games in conjunction with Peeta Mellark after they each defy the Capitol by threatening to kill.

The Capitol is angry at their defiance, that conjures up rebellion in many districts. Katniss and Peeta tour the districts, making an attempt to subdue the rebellion. Then, the reaping for subsequent Hunger Games takes place. For these games, a part of the "Quarter Quell" that takes place each twenty five years, winners of past games area unit forced to participate. once only and single participants stay within the games, as well as Katniss and Peeta, the rostrum is destroyed. 3 of the tributes, as well as Katniss, area unit reclaimed by survivors of District thirteen, however the opposite 3 tributes, as well as Peeta, area unit captured by Capitol hovercrafts.

The rebellion continues with Katniss being employed as a figurehead.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

Nineteen Eighty Four

by George Orwell

Nineteen eighty-four, typically printed as 1984, is a dystopian novel by George Orwell written and published in 1949. The novel is about in airstrip One (formerly referred to as great Britain), a province of the superstate oceania in a very world of perpetual war, present government surveillance, and public manipulation.

Set by a social group euphemistically named English Socialism (or Ingsoc within the government's fabricated language, Newspeak) beneath the management of a privileged Inner Party elite that persecutes all individualism and freelance thinking as "thoughtcrimes".

The tyranny is epitomized by massive Brother, the quasi-divine Party leader WHO enjoys associate intense cult of temperament, however who might not even exist. big Brother and therefore the Party justify their oppressive decree the name of a supposed larger sensible. The protagonist of the novel, Winston Smith, is a member of the Outer Party who works for the Ministry of Truth (or Minitrue), that is to blame for information and historical revisionism.

His job is to rewrite past newspaper articles so the account forever supports the present party line. Smith is a diligent and skillful employee, however he secretly hates the Party and dreams of rebellion against big Brother.

As literary political fiction and dystopian science-fiction, Nineteen eighty-four is a classic novel in content, plot, and style. several of its terms and ideas, like massive Brother, believing, thoughtcrime, Newspeak, Room 101, Telescreen, 2 + 2 = 5, and memory hole, have entered everyday use since its publication in 1949. Moreover, Nineteen cardinal popularised the adjective Orwellian, that describes official deception, secret surveillance, and manipulation of recorded history by a totalitarian or authoritarian state.

In 2005, the novel was chosen by TIME magazine jointly of the one hundred best English-language novels from 1923 to 2005. it had been awarded an area on each lists of contemporary Library one hundred Best Novels, reaching number thirteen on the editor's list, and 6 on the readers' list. In 2003, the novel was listed at variety eight on the BBC's survey the large scan.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

The lord of the rings

by J R.R Tolkien

The Lord of the Rings is an epic high fantasy novel written by English author J. R. R. Tolkien. The story began as a sequel to Tolkien's 1937 fantasy novel The hobbit, however eventually developed into a way larger work. it had been written in processes between 1937 and 1949, a lot of of it throughout war II. it's one among the popular novels ever written, with over one hundred fifty million copies sold-out.

The title of the novel refers to the story's main antagonist, the Dark Lord Sauron, who had in an earlier age created the One Ring to rule the opposite Rings of Power because the final weapon in his campaign to overcome and rule all of Middle-earth.

From quiet beginnings within the Shire, a countryside land not not like English rural area, the story ranges across northwest Middle-earth, following the course of the War of the Ring through the eyes of its characters, the hobbits Frodo Baggins, Samwise "Sam" Gamgee, Meriadoc "Merry" Brandybuck and Peregrin "Pippin" Took, however conjointly the hobbits' chief allies and movement companions: the boys Aragorn, a Ranger of the North and Boromir, a Captain of Gondor; Gimli, a Dwarf warrior; Legolas, an Elven prince; and Gandalf, a Wizard.

The work was at first supposed by tolkien to be one volume of a two-volume set, the opposite to be The Silmarillion, however this idea was not taken by his publisher. For economic reasons The Lord of the Rings was printed in 3 volumes over the course of a year from twenty nine july 1954 to 20 October 1955. The 3 volumes were titled The Fellowship of the Ring, the 2 Towers, and also the come back of the King.

Structurally, the novel is split internally into six books, 2 per volume, with many appendices of background material enclosed at the tip of the third volume. Some editions mix the whole work into one volume. The Lord of the Rings has since been reprinted various times and translated into several languages.

Tolkien's work has been the topic of intensive analysis of its themes and origins. though a significant add itself, the story was only the last movement of a bigger epic philologue had worked on since 1917,in a method he represented as mythopoeia. Influences on this earlier work, and on the story of The Lord of the Rings, embody humanities, mythology, faith and also the author's aversion for the consequences of industrialisation, also as earlier fantasy works and Tolkien's experiences in war I.

The Lord of the Rings in its flip is taken into account to possess had an excellent result on fashionable fantasy; the impact of Tolkien's works is such the employment of the words "Tolkienian" and "Tolkienesque" are recorded within the English wordbook.

The enduring quality of The Lord of the Rings has led to various references in widespread culture, the initiation of the many societies by fans of Tolkien's works, and also the publication of the many books regarding philologue and his works. The Lord of the Rings has galvanized, and continues to inspire, artwork, music, films and tv, video games, and consequent literature. victory diversification of The Lord of the Rings are created for radio, theatre, and film.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

The Giver

by Lois Lowry

The Giver is a 1993 united states children's novel by Lois Lowry. it's set in an exceedingly society that is initially conferred as a utopian society and step by step seems a lot of and a lot of dystopian. The novel follows a boy named Jonas through the thirteenth year of his life. The society has eliminated pain and strife by changing to "Sameness," a thought that has additionally eradicated emotional depth from their lives. Jonas is chosen to inherit the position of Receiver of Memory, the one who stores all the past reminiscences of the time before Sameness, just in case they're ever required to help in selections that others lack the expertise to create. Jonas learns the reality regarding his dystopian society and struggles with its weight.

The Giver won the 1994 Newbery honour and has sold-out quite ten million copies. In Australia, Canada, and also the us, it's a neighborhood of the many lycee reading lists, however it's additionally on several challenged book lists and appeared on the american Library Association's list of most challenged books of the 1990s.

The novel forms a loose quartet with 3 alternative books set within the same future era: Gathering Blue (2000), courier (2004), and Son (2012).

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

The Catcher in the Rye

By J.D Salinger

The Catcher in the Rye is a 1951 novel by J. D. Salinger. A disputed and controversial novel originally revealed for adults, it's since become fashionable adolescent readers for its themes of teenaged anxiety and alienation. it's been translated into most of the world's major languages.

Around 250,000 copies ar oversubscribed annually with total sales of over sixty five million books.The novel's protagonist Holden Caulfield has become associate icon for teenaged rebellion.The novel additionally deals with advanced problems with identity, belonging, loss, connection, and alienation.

The novel was enclosed on Time's 2005 list of the one hundred best English-language novels written since 1923, and it absolutely was named by trendy Library and its readers joined of the one hundred best English-language novels of the twentieth century. In 2003, it absolutely was listed at #15 on the BBC's survey the massive read.

Various older stories by Salinger contain characters just like those within the Catcher in the Rye. whereas at Columbia University, J.D. Salinger wrote a brief story referred to as "The Young Folks" in tittle Burnett's class; one character from this story has been delineated as a "thinly draw paradigm of Sally Hayes".

In Nov 1941, Salinger oversubscribed the story "Slight Rebellion off Madison," that featured Holden Caulfield, to The American, however it wasn't revealed till Dec twenty one, 1946 because of war II. The story "I'm Crazy," that was revealed within the Dec twenty two, 1945, issue of Collier's, contained material that was later utilized in The Catcher within the Rye. A ninety-page manuscript regarding Holden Caulfield was accepted by The American for publication in 1946, however it absolutely was later withdrawn by Salinger

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

Divergent

by Veronica Roth

Divergent is the debut novel of american writer veronica roth, printed by HarperCollins Children's Books in 2011. it's a young-adult dystopian novel set within the supposed Divergent Universe,[1] that options a post-apocalyptic version of Chicago.

The novel follows Beatrice "Tris" previous as she explores her identity among a society that defines its voters by their social and personality-related affiliation with 5 totally different factions. Underlying the action and dystopian centered main plot is a romantic subplot between Tris and one in all her instructors within the intrepid faction, nicknamed Four.

The novel has additionally been compared to different young adult books like The Hunger Games and also the Maze Runner as a result of its similar themes and audience. especially, the novel explores the themes common to young adult fiction, like adult authority and also the transition from childhood to maturity, likewise as broader motifs, like the place of violence and social structures among a post-apocalyptic society.

Its major plot device, the division of society into temperament sorts, is one utilized in different science fiction works. on the far side its literary context, Roth's open declaration of her faith as a Christian has brought comment from Christian communities each endorsing and difficult the novel.

Roth wrote Divergent whereas acting on a resourceful writing degree at Northwestern University, and it absolutely was quickly purchased for publication. Divergent is that the initial book in a very triad that was completed in october 2013.

Roth's initial book of short fiction set within the Divergent universe came go in Gregorian calendar month 2014: Four: A Divergent assortment, altered by Katherine Tegen. Summit amusement purchased the media rights to the book, and production on the film, additionally titled Divergent, occurred in 2013.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

The Great Gatsby

by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Great Gatsby is a 1925 novel written by american author F. Scott Fitzgerald that follows a forged of characters living within the fictional city of West egg on prosperous long island within the summer of 1922. The story primarily considerations the young and mysterious have Jay Gatsby and his romantic passion and obsession for the attractive former adult female daisy buchanan.

Thought of to be Fitzgerald's work of art, the great Gatsby explores themes of abjection, idealism, resistance to alter, social upheaval, and excess, making a portrait of the Jazz Age or the Roaring Twenties that has been represented as a cautionary tale relating to the American Dream.

Fitzgerald—inspired by the parties he had attended whereas visiting Long Island's north shore—began designing the novel in 1923, assuming to turn out, in his words, "something new—something extraordinary and exquisite and straightforward and elaborately dotted." Progress was slow, with Fitzgerald finishing his 1st draft following a move to the Cote d'Azur in 1924.

His editor, Maxwell Perkins, felt the book was too imprecise and convinced the author to revise over following winter. Fitzgerald was ambivalent concerning the book's title, at varied times want to re-title the novel Trimalchio in West Egg.

First revealed by Scribner's in Apr 1925, the nice Gatsby received mixed reviews and oversubscribed poorly; in its 1st year, the book sold-out only 20,000 copies. Fitzgerald died in 1940, basic cognitive process himself to be a failure and his work forgotten.

However, the novel practiced a revival throughout world war II, and have become a section of american highschool curricula and various stage and film diversifications within the following decades. Today, the nice Gatsby is wide thought of to be a literary classic and a rival for the title "Great american Novel". The book is systematically graded among the best works of yank literature. In 1998 the trendy Library editorial board voted it the twentieth century's best yankee novel and competition novel within the West Germanic.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

Brave New World

by Aldous Huxley

Brave New World is a novel written in 1931 by author and printed in 1932. Set in London of AD 2540 (632 A.F.—"After Ford"—in the book), the novel anticipates developments in procreative technology, teaching, psychological manipulation, and conditioning that mix deeply to vary society. Huxley answered this book with a assessment in an essay, Brave New World Revisited (1958), and with Island (1962), his final novel.

In 1999, the modern Library stratified Brave New World fifth on its list of the one hundred best English-language novels of the twentieth century. In 2003, robert McCrum writing for The Observer listed Brave New World number fifty three in "the high one hundred greatest novels of all time", and also the novel was listed at range eighty seven on the BBC's survey the massive browse.

Brave New World's title derives from Miranda's speech in William Shakespeare's The Tempest, Act V, Scene I:

    O wonder!
how many goodly creatures are there here!
how beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
    That has such people in't.
    —William shakespeare, The Tempest, Act V, Scene I, ll. 203–206[5]

This line itself is ironic; Miranda was raised for many of her life on an isolated island, and also the only folks she ever knew were her father and his servants, an enslaved savage, and spirits, notably Ariel. once she sees others for the primary time, she is clearly overcome excitedly, and utters, among different praise, the renowned line higher than. However, what she is truly observant isn't men acting in an exceedingly refined or civilized manner, however rather representatives of the worst of humanity, who betrayed or tried to betray their brothers or leaders to urge ahead. Huxley employs a similar irony once the "savage" John refers to what he sees as a "brave new world".

Translations of the title usually touch to similar expressions employed in domestic works of literature in a trial to capture a similar irony: the French edition of the work is entitled LE Meilleur des mondes ("The better of All Worlds"), Associate in Nursing mention to Associate in Nursing expression utilized by the thinker Gottfried mathematician and satirised in Candide, Ou l'Optimisme by author (1759).

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

best investment books of all time - a must read

2014-09-14T10:52:00.001-07:00

Best
Investment Books
of all time

Are you an investor? Have you had it all or are you looking to explore more investment plans and ideas to tighten up your strategies when it comes to making and taking risk and decisions in business and investment?
Well i bring you the best investment books of all time.

This list are compiled by most top investment gurus and websites like investopedia and business insider. This books are a must read if you are really in the art of investment.

These blog list and describes the books that show up time and also in lists of books suggested by the professionals themselves.Topics lined embrace everything from the basics of finance to the stories behind a number of the Street's most speculative episodes in history.

When it involves learning regarding investment, the web is one amongst the quickest, newest ways in which to create your method through the jungle of data out there. however if you are looking for a historical perspective on finance and investment or a additional elaborated analysis of a precise topic, there include many classic books on finance and investment that create nice reading.

Here we tend to provide you with a short summary of our favorite investing books of all time and set you on the trail to finance enlightenment.Throughout the years, there are thousands of books written on stock finance and investing. Books on stocks became particularly widespread within the late Nineties with the dot-com boom as everybody raced to be "in" the stock exchange.

Investing books include totally different from those on personal finance or commercialism. Personal finance books are also like those by Suzy Orman that tell you the way to induce out of debt or best sellers just like the wealthy person not far away. the favored investing books takes quite simply stocks and handle the speculative aspect of the trade. Those list of books like Market Wizards. Books on stock finance takes into consideration the art of choosing stocks.

It's imperative for young adults and professionals to begin finance early. one amongst the most reasons for doing therefore is to get the ability of compound interest; by holding long investments, one will permit his or her assets to come up with additional returns. Finance and investing simply many years earlier may translate into tens of thousands, if not tens or hundreds thousands, of further funds for your retirement nest egg.
The following list are a must read if you are anxious and determined to be a great investor. And they are a must if you really have not read any of them or half of them. EJOY

The Intelligent Investor

by Benjamin Graham

This classic text is annotated to update Graham's unaltered knowledge for today's market conditions. The best advisory of the 20th century, Benjamin Graham, schooled and impressed folks worldwide. Graham's philosophy of "value investing" -- that shields investors from substantial error and teaches them to develop long ways -- has created The Intelligent capitalist the stock exchange bible ever since its original publication in 1949.

Benjamin Graham is unarguably the daddy of valuable investment. His concepts concerning security analysis ordered the inspiration for a generation of investors, as well as his most illustrious student, Warren Buffett."The Intelligent Investor" is far a lot of clear than Graham's 1934 work entitled "Security Analysis", that is perhaps the foremost quoted, however least acquired, investment book.

"The Intelligent Investor" will not tell you ways to select stocks, however it will teach sound, tried principles that each capitalist and investor will use. Plus, it's value a a must read primarily based alone on Warren Buffett's testimonial: "By so much the most effective book on investment ever written

This book has been hailed by Warren Buffett because the best investment book ever written. Benjamin Graham is taken into account the "father of import investment," a paradigm that advocates the acquisition of stocks that seem underpriced relative to their inherent worth, that is set through elementary analysis.

Graham delves into the history of the investment market, and informs the reader on conducting elementary analysis on a stock. He discusses numerous ways in which of managing your portfolio as well as each a positive and defensive approach.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

Think and Grow Rich

by Napoleon Hill

Think And Grow Rich was written by Napoleon Hill throughout the nice Depression, and has since sold quite thirty million copies worldwide. Hill conducted in depth analysis supported his associations with rich and wealthy people throughout his lifespan.

At the suggestion of andrew carnegie, Hill revealed thirteen principles accomplishment and private achievement from his observations and analysis.

These embody embrace, faith, specialized information, organized coming up with, persistence and also the "sixth sense." Hill additionally believed in group action with similar folks, whose efforts will produce synergistic energy.

This book conveys valuable insights into the psychological science of success and abundance, and will be thought-about a priority read given this age's stress on shock-value amusement and negative news.

Think and Grow rich is a 1937 psychological feature personal development and assist book by Napoleon Hill and galvanized by a suggestion from Scottish-American man of affairs altruist.

Whereas the title implies that this book deals with a way to get wealthy, the author explains that the philosophy educated within the book are often wont to facilitate folks achieve all lines of labor and to try to to or be nearly something they need. Jim Murray wrote that suppose and Grow wealthy was attributable for Ken Norton's boxing upset of Muhammad Ali in 1973.

The Reverend Charles Stanley writes, "I began to use the principles of (Think and Grow Rich) to my endeavors as a pastor, and that i discovered they worked!" The book was 1st revealed throughout the nice Depression.

At the time of Hill's death in 1970, suppose and Grow wealthy had sold quite twenty million copies and by 2011 over seventy million copies had been sold worldwide.It remains the most important trafficker of Napoleon Hill's books. BusinessWeek Magazine's Best-Seller List hierarchical it the sixth popular paperback business book seventy years when it had been revealed. suppose and Grow wealthy is listed in John C. Maxwell's A lifespan "Must Read" Books List.

The first edition of think and Grow rich was discharged in March 1937. Despite restricted promotion, largely word of mouth, the first run of 5,000 sold out in six weeks, at $2.50 a copy. Another 10,000 copies were written, all of that additionally sold in six weeks. The third print destroyed 20,000.W. Clement Stone wrote: "One of the foremost vital days in my life was the day i started to read think and Grow rich in 1937.

Think and grow rich is that the most vital financial and investment book ever written. Napoleon Hill researched quite forty millionaires to search out out what created them the lads that they were. during this book he imparts that information to you. Once you've got browse this book you may perceive what offers sure folks a position over everybody else.

By following the recommendation set out clearly during this book you will be the one with a position. it is time to prevent speculative what it's wish to be wealthy and begin knowing. This book has modified uncounted lives and it will modification yours! in contrast to several of the opposite editions on the market these days, this edition is complete and unabridged!

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

Common Stocks and Uncommon Profits

by Philip Fisher

Widely revered and loved, Philip Fisher is among the foremost influential investors of all time. His investment philosophies, introduced nearly forty years past, don't seem to be solely studied and applied by today's financiers and investors, however also are regarded by several as gospel. This book is valuable reading and has been since it absolutely was 1st printed in 1958.

Philip Fisher is a pioneer within the world of economic analysis.Philip Fisher has had a serious influence on trendy investment theory. the fundamental plan of analyzing a stock supported growth potential is basically attributed to Fisher. "Common Stocks And Uncommon Profits" teaches investors to research the standard of a business and its ability to provide profits. 1st printed within the Fifties, Fisher's lessons area unit even as applicable half a century later.

"You can realize ample jewels in these pages that will do the maximum amount for you as they need on behalf of me."-from the Introduction by Kenneth L. Fisher Forbes journalist

Acclaim for Common Stocks and Uncommon Profits

"I wanted out Phil Fisher once reading his Common Stocks and Uncommon Profits...When I met him, i used to be affected by the person as by his ideas. a radical understanding of the business, obtained by victimization Phil's techniques...enables one to create intelligent investment commitments."-Warren Buffett

"Little renowned to the general public, seldom interviewed and acceptive few shoppers, philip Fisher is all the same read and studied by most thoughtful investment professionals . . . everybody can benefit from pondering-as Warren Buffett has done-the investment principles Fisher espouses."-James W. Michaels Editor, Forbes

"My own copy of Common Stocks and Uncommon Profits has underlinings and marginal thoughts throughout."-John Train Author of Dance of the money Bees.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

Rich Dad Poor Dad

by Robert Kiyosaki

This classic is a must-read for young investors. Kiyosaki's opinion is that the poor and socio-economic class work for cash, however the wealthy work to find out. He stresses the importance of economic and financial attainment, and presents money independence because the final goal and the way to avoid the modus operandi of company America.

The author points out that whereas accounting is vital to find out, it also can be dishonorable. Banks label a house as associate plus for the individual, however due to the specified payments to stay it, it will very be a liability in terms of money flow. Real assets add income to your billfold.

Kiyosaki advocates investments that manufacture periodic income for the capitalist whereas providing top side in terms of equity price. land and stocks that give dividends are viewed favourably.

author advises that America's academic system is intended to stay individuals operating laborious for the remainder of their lives, which the college system indulge in a poor job of teaching individuals to make enough wealth so that they will not have to be compelled to work any longer. Kiyosaki additionally highlights the importance of tax designing.

Rich dad Poor dad is a 2000 book written by american businessman, author and capitalist Robert Kiyosaki. It advocates money independence and building wealth through investment, land investment, beginning and owning businesses, in addition as increasing one's money intelligence to boost one's business and money power.

Rich dad Poor dad is written within the kind of a collection of parables, on the face of it supported Kiyosaki's life.Kiyosaki stresses the possession of high price assets that manufacture income, instead of being associate worker within the book.

The book is essentially supported Kiyosaki's childhood upbringing and education in Hawaii. It highlights the various attitudes to cash, work and lifetime of 2 men (i.e. his titular "rich dad" and "poor dad"), and the way they successively influenced key selections in Kiyosaki's life.

Among a number of the book's topics are:

Kiyosaki's upbringing, business and investment ventures
assets and liabilities
what the wealthy, socio-economic class and poor teach their youngsters regarding cash
a primary residence as a liability instead of associate plus
money intelligence attainment
roles of business and money skills, aptitude, and skill in money success

Kiyosaki advocated his former mentor and yank futurist, Dr. Buckminster Fuller's views on wealth, that wealth is measured by the amount of days the financial gain from your assets will sustain you, and money independence is achieved once your monthly financial gain from assets exceeds your monthly expenses.

One statement created throughout the book was the explanation for each criticism and praise within the media. within the book, Kiyosaki claims that a person's home is not associate plus, though banks allow individuals to list it per se. He says a home is a liability. His definition of assets and liabilities is somewhat simplistic: "During adversity assets feed you, and liabilities eat you".

Kiyosaki was indicating that liabilities area unit, by definition, "anything that takes cash out of your pocket," whereas assets, area unit "properties that bring cash into your pocket." so a house that prices you cash may be a liability, associated a rental property that produces positive income financial gain is taken into account to be an plus. A profitable business is additionally associate plus, whereas a business that loses cash is taken into account a liability.

The book was originally self-published in 1997 before being picked up commercially to become a NY-Times bestseller, the book has oversubscribed twenty six million copies and has become a unit name. In his audiobook like better to be wealthy, Kiyosaki aforesaid that each publisher turned him down, and Barnes & Noble refused to stock the book at the start. He places his focus upon speak shows and radio show appearances, of that The Oprah Winfrey Show had the most important influence on book sales

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

Irrational Exuberance

by Henry M. Robert Shiller

Irrational Exuberance is a March 2000 book written by nobel Prize-winning university academic robert Shiller, named when Alan Greenspan's "irrational exuberance" quote. printed at the peak of the dot-com boom.

Tt place forth many arguments demonstrating however the stock markets were overvalued at the time. The exchange collapse of 2000 happened the precise month of the book's publication.

The second edition of Irrational Exuberance printed in 2005 is updated to hide the housing bubble, particularly within the u.s. Shiller writes that the important estate bubble could shortly burst, and he supports his claim by showing that median home costs are currently six to ninefold larger than median financial gain in some areas of the country.

He conjointly shows that home costs, once adjusted for inflation, have made terribly modest returns of but one hundred and twenty fifth per annum. Housing costs peaked in 2006 and therefore the housing bubble burst in 2007 and 2008, an incident part to blame for the Worldwide recession of 2008-2009.

There include some economists who challenge the prognostication power of Shiller's publication. Eugene Fama, the robert R. McCormick Distinguished Service academic of Finance at The University of Chicago and co-recipient with Shiller of the 2013 accolade in economic science, has written that Shiller "has been systematically demoralized concerning costs,therefore given a protracted enough horizon, Shiller is absolute to be ready to claim that he has expected any given crisis.

As Henry M. Robert Shiller’s new 2009 preface to his discerning classic on behavioral social science and market volatility asserts, the irrational exuberance of the stock associate degreed housing markets “has been finished by an financial condition of a magnitude not seen since the good Depression of the Nineteen Thirties.”

As we tend to all, standard Americans and skilled investors alike, crawl from the part of our heedless bubble economy, the shrewd insights and sober warnings, and laborious facts that Shiller marshals during this book ar additional valuable than ever.

The original and bestselling 2000 edition of Irrational Exuberance induced Alan Greenspan’s disreputable 1996 use of that phrase to clarify the alternately soaring and declining exchange. It expected the collapse of the school stock bubble through associate degree analysis of the structural, cultural, and psychological factors behind levels of value growth not mirrored in the other sector of the economy.

Within the second edition (2005), Shiller sunray realty into his analysis of market volatility, marshaling proof that housing costs were hazardously inflated still, a bubble that might presently burst, resulting in a “string of bankruptcies” and a “worldwide recession.” That so came to pass, with consequences that the 2009 preface to the current edition deals with.

Irrational Exuberance is over ever a cogent, chilling, and amazingly far-seeing analytical work that nobody with any cash in any market anyplace will afford to not read–and heed.

CHECKOUT PRICE AND MORE REVIEWS

100 best poems of all time - the importance of poetry

2014-09-11T09:06:00.000-07:00

Poetry gives people a voice. This voice can be used to show the differenct types of ideas, expressions and knowledge. Often, people use poetry to express how they feel when they think they are misunderstood. Writing lets you see through the eyes of another, and this is why poetry is important.

Throughout history, poets have used language to express their thoughts, feelings, ideas and perspectives. By using rhythm, rhyme, meter and line breaks, poets have addressed everything from the nature of love or the beauty of a spring day to complex social issues. By studying poetry, middle and high school students can gain a greater understanding, not only of literature and language, but of themselves and the world they live in.

Poetry is vital language. Poetry relies on the writer's feelings, history and perceptions, so every person has the background needed to write poems. Because poetry draws on the senses and the senses give deep access to memories and feelings, poetry writing is relevant and interesting.

The following are the list of the top and best 100 best poems of all time. They are displayed in alphabetical order. This poems stood the test of time and also stood the test of fame, reviews and various critics from wikipedia, the national association of poetry therapy NAPT and the national federation of state poetry societies.

If you are fond of poetry, a student of literature of a lecturer, you might want to check this list to be able to expand your poetry knowledge. These top 100 list is all anyone need to really understand the universe of poetry.

A Birda th y Poem , Author: Ted Kooser
A Dream Within A Dream , Author: Edgar Allan Poe
A Girl , Author: Ezra Pound
A Poet To His Beloved , Author: William Butler Yeats
A Poison Tree , Author: William Blake
A pretty a day , Author: E. E. Cummings
A Word to Husbands , Author: Ogden Nash
All the World's a Stage , Author: William Shakespeare
America , Author: Allen Ginsberg
An Evolutionist , Author: Alfred Lord Tennyson
And The Moon And The Stars And The World , Author: Charles Bukowski
As Soon as Fred Gets Out of Bed , Author: Jack Prelutsky
Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio , Author: James Wright
Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face , Author: Jack Prelutsky
Bear In There , Author: Shel Silverstein
Birches , Author: Robert Frost
Brown Penny , Author: William Butler Yeats
Daddy , Author: Sylvia Plath
Deaths And Entrances , Author: Dylan Thomas
Dedication , Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
Digging , Author: Seamus Heaney
Do not go gentle into that good night , Author: Dylan Thomas
Dover Beach , Author: Matthew Arnold
Dream Deferred , Author: Langston Hughes
During Wind And Rain , Author: Thomas Hardy
Epithalamion , Author: e.e. cummings
Fast rode the knight , Author: Stephen Crane
Filling Station , Author: Elizabeth Bishop
Frost At Midnight , Author: Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Funeral Blues , Author: W. H. Auden
Goblin Market , Author: Christina Rossetti
Happiness , Author: Raymond Carver
I Cannot Live With You , Author: Emily Dickinson
I carry your heart with me , Author: E. E. Cummings
I know why the caged bird sings , Author: Maya Angelou
I Taught Myself To Live Simply , Author: Anna Akhmatova
I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud , Author: William Wordsworth
If those I loved were lost , Author: Emily Dickinson
If You Forget Me , Author: Pablo Neruda
If You Have Seen , Author: Thomas Moore
In Arthur's House , Author: William Morris
Let America Be America Again , Author: Langston Hughes
Life is fine , Author: Langston Hughes
Mending Wall , Author: Robert Frost
Messy Room , Author: Shel Silverstein
No Second Troy , Author: William Butler Yeats
O Captain! My Captain! , Author: Walt Whitman
One Hundred and Three , Author: Henry Lawson
Phenomenal Woman , Author: Maya Angelou
Romance , Author: Edgar Allan Poe
Seeker Of Truth , Author: E. E. Cummings
Seven Ages Of Man , Author: William Shakespeare
Sick , Author: Shel Silverstein
Still I Rise , Author: Maya Angelou
Stopping , Author: Woods on a Snowy Evening , Author: Robert Frost
Success Is Counted Sweetest , Author: Emily Dickinson
The Blessed Damozel , Author: Dante Gabriel Rossetti
The Broken Heart , Author: William Barnes
The Charge of the Light Brigade , Author: Lord Alfred Tennyson
The Dole of the King's Daughter , Author: Oscar Wilde
The Fairy Temple; Or, Oberon's Chapel , Author: Robert Herrick
The Lady of the Lake (excerpt) , Author: Sir Walter Scott
The Mother , Author: Gwendolyn Brooks
The New Poetry Handbook , Author: Mark Strand
The Poor Ghost , Author: Christina Rossetti
The Raven , Author: Edgar Allan Poe
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner , Author: Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The Road Not Taken , Author: Robert Frost
The Waste Land , Author: T. S. Eliot
There is another sky , Author: Emily Dickinson
Those Winter Sundays , Author: Robert Hayden
Thy Days Are Done , Author: Lord , Author: ron
To A Mouse , Author: Robert Burns
To My Wife - With A Copy Of My Poems , Author: Oscar Wilde
To You , Author: Walt Whitman
Touched , Author: An Angel , Author: Maya Angelou
Two In The Campagna , Author: Robert Browning
Walking Around , Author: Pablo Neruda
What Do Women Want? , Author: Kim Addonizio
Where the Sidewalk Ends , Author: Shel Silverstein

A Birthday Poem
Author: Ted Kooser

Just past dawn, the sun stands
with its heavy red head
in a black stanchion of trees,
waiting for someone to come
with his bucket
for the foamy white light,
and then a long day in the pasture.
I too spend my days grazing,
feasting on every green moment
till darkness calls,
and with the others
I walk away into the night,
swinging the little tin bell
of my name.

A Dream Within A Dream

Author: Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

A Girl

Author: Ezra Pound

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast-
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

A Poet To His Beloved

Author: William Butler Yeats

I BRING you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme.

A Poison Tree

Author: William Blake

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see,
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.

A pretty a day

Author: E. E. Cummings

A pretty a day
(and every fades)
is here and away
(but born are maids
to flower an hour
in all,all)

o yes to flower
until so blithe
a doer a wooer
some limber and lithe
some very fine mower
a tall;tall

some jerry so very
(and nellie and fan)
some handsomest harry
(and sally and nan
they tremble and cower
so pale:pale)

for betty was born
to never say nay
but lucy could learn
and lily could pray
and fewer were shyer
than doll. doll

A Word to Husbands

Author: Ogden Nash

To keep your marriage brimming
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;
Whenever you’re right, shut up.

All the World's a Stage

Author: William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

America

Author: Allen Ginsberg

America I've given you all and now I'm nothing.
America two dollars and twentyseven cents January
17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I'm sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I
need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not
the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back
it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical
joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I'm doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday
somebody goes on trial for murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid
I'm not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses
in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there's going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right.
I won't say the Lord's Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle
Max after he came over from Russia.

I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by
Time Magazine?
I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner
candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It's always telling me about responsibility. Business-
men are serious. Movie producers are serious.
Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.

Asia is rising against me.
I haven't got a chinaman's chance.
I'd better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of
marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable
private literature that goes 1400 miles an hour
and twenty-five-thousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of
underprivileged who live in my flowerpots
under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers
is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that
I'm a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly
mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as
individual as his automobiles more so they're
all different sexes.
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500
down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Com-
munist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a
handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the
speeches were free everybody was angelic and
sentimental about the workers it was all so sin-
cere you have no idea what a good thing the
party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand
old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me
cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody
must have been a spy.
America you don't really want to go to war.
America it's them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen.
And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power
mad. She wants to take our cars from out our
garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Readers'
Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia.
Him big bureaucracy running our fillingsta-
tions.
That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read.
Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us
all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in
the television set.
America is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the job.
It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes
in precision parts factories, I'm nearsighted and
psychopathic anyway.
America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

And The Moon And The Stars And The World

Author: Charles Bukowski

Long walks at night--
that's what good for the soul:
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
their beer-maddened husbands.

As Soon as Fred Gets Out of Bed

Author: Jack Prelutsky

As soon as Fred gets out of bed,
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, "Don't put it there,
a head's no place for underwear!"
But near his ears, above his brains,
is where Fred's underwear remains.

At night when Fred goes back to bed,
he deftly plucks it off his head.
His mother switches off the light
and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!"
And then, for reasons no one knows,
Fred's underwear goes on his toes.

Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio

Author: James Wright

In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.

All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.

Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.

Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

Author: Jack Prelutsky

Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.

Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.

Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.

Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.

Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!

Bear In There

Author: Shel Silverstein

There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He's nibbling the noodles,
He's munching the rice,
He's slurping the soda,
He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he's in there--
That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire.

Birches

Author: Robert Frost

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

Brown Penny

Author: William Butler Yeats

I whispered, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

By An Evolutionist

Author: Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of a man,
And the man said, ‘Am I your debtor?’
And the Lord-‘Not yet; but make it as clean as you can,
And then I will let you a better.’

I.
If my body come from brutes, my soul uncertain or a fable,
Why not bask amid the senses while the sun of morning shines,
I, the finer brute rejoicing in my hounds, and in my stable,
Youth and health, and birth and wealth, and choice of women and of wines?

II.
What hast thou done for me, grim Old Age,
save breaking my bones on the rack?
Would I had past in the morning that looks so bright from afar!

OLD AGE

Done for thee? starved the wild beast that was linkt with thee eighty years back.
Less weight now for the ladder-of-heaven that hangs on a star.

I.
If my body come from brutes, tho’ somewhat finer than their own,
I am heir, and this my kingdom. Shall the royal voice be mute?
No, but if the rebel subject seek to drag me from the throne,
Hold the sceptre, Human Soul, and rule thy province of the brute.

II.
I have climb’d to the snows of Age, and I gaze at a field in the Past.
Where I sank with the body at times in the sloughs of a low desire,
But I hear no yelp of the beast, and the Man is quiet at last,
As he stands on the heights of his life with a glimpse of a height that is higher.

Daddy

Author: Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time--
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.

Deaths And Entrances

Author: Dylan Thomas

On almost the incendiary eve
Of several near deaths,
When one at the great least of your best loved
And always known must leave
Lions and fires of his flying breath,
Of your immortal friends
Who'd raise the organs of the counted dust
To shoot and sing your praise,
One who called deepest down shall hold his peace
That cannot sink or cease
Endlessly to his wound
In many married London's estranging grief.

On almost the incendiary eve
When at your lips and keys,
Locking, unlocking, the murdered strangers weave,
One who is most unknown,
Your polestar neighbour, sun of another street,
Will dive up to his tears.
He'll bathe his raining blood in the male sea
Who strode for your own dead
And wind his globe out of your water thread
And load the throats of shells
with every cry since light
Flashed first across his thunderclapping eyes.

On almost the incendiary eve
Of deaths and entrances,
When near and strange wounded on London's waves
Have sought your single grave,
One enemy, of many, who knows well
Your heart is luminous
In the watched dark, quivering through locks and caves,
Will pull the thunderbolts
To shut the sun, plunge, mount your darkened keys
And sear just riders back,
Until that one loved least
Looms the last Samson of your zodiac.

Dedication

Author: Robert Louis Stevenson

My first gift and my last, to you
I dedicate this fascicle of songs -
The only wealth I have:
Just as they are, to you.

I speak the truth in soberness, and say
I had rather bring a light to your clear eyes,
Had rather hear you praise
This bosomful of songs

Than that the whole, hard world with one consent,
In one continuous chorus of applause
Poured forth for me and mine
The homage of ripe praise.

I write the finis here against my love,
This is my love's last epitaph and tomb.
Here the road forks, and I
Go my way, far from yours.

Digging

Author: Seamus Heaney

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pin rest; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner's bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I've no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I'll dig with it.

Do not go gentle into that good night

Author: Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dover Beach

Author: Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Agean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Dream Deferred

Author: Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

During Wind And Rain

Author: Thomas Hardy

They sing their dearest songs
He, she, all of them--yea,
Treble and tenor and bass.
And one to play;
With the candles mooning each face....
Ah, no; the years O!
How the sick leaves reel down in throngs!

They clear the creeping moss
Elders and juniors--aye,
Making the pathways neat
And the garden gay;
And they build a shady seat....
Ah, no; the years, the years;
See, the white storm-birds wing across!

They are blithely breakfasting all--
Men and maidens--yea,
Under the summer tree,
With a glimpse of the bay,
While pet fowl come to the knee....
Ah, no; the years O!
And the rotten rose is ripped from the wall.

They change to a high new house,
He, she, all of them--aye,
Clocks and carpets and chairs
On the lawn all day,
And brightest things that are theirs....
Ah, no; the years, the years;
Down their carved names the raindrop plows.

Epithalamion

Author: e.e. cummings

I.
Thou aged unreluctant earth who dost
with quivering continual thighs invite
the thrilling rain the slender paramour
to toy with thy extraordinary lust,
(the sinuous rain which rising from thy bed
steals to his wife the sky and hour by hour
wholly renews her pale flesh with delight)
-immortally whence are the high gods fled?

Speak elm eloquent pandar with thy nod
significant to the ecstatic earth
in token of his coming whom her soul
burns to embrace-and didst thou know the god
from but the imprint of whose cloven feet
the shrieking dryad sought her leafy goal,
at the mere echo of whose shining mirth
the furious hearts of mountains ceased to beat?

Wind beautifully who wanderest
over smooth pages of forgotten joy
proving the peaceful theorems of the flowers
-didst e'er depart upon more exquisite quest?
and did thy fortunate fingers sometime dwell
(within a greener shadow of secret bowers)
among the curves of that delicious boy
whose serious grace one goddess loved too well?

Chryselephantine Zeus Olympian
sceptred colossus of the Pheidian soul
whose eagle frights creation,in whose palm
Nike presents the crown sweetest to man,
whose lilied robe the sun's white hands emboss,
betwixt whose absolute feet anoint with calm
of intent stars circling the acerb pole
poises,smiling,the diadumenos

in whose young chiseled eyes the people saw
their once again victorious Pantarkes
(whose grace the prince of artists made him bold
to imitate between the feet of awe),
thunderer whose omnipotent brow showers
its curls of unendured eternal gold
over the infinite breast in bright degrees,
whose pillow is the graces and the hours,

father of gods and men whose subtle throne
twain sphinxes bear each with a writhing youth
caught to her brazen breasts,whose foot-stool tells
how fought the looser of the warlike zone
of her that brought forth tall Hippolytus,
lord on whose pedestal the deep expels
(over Selene's car closing uncouth)
of Helios the sweet wheels tremulous-

are there no kings in Argos,that the song
is silent,of the steep unspeaking tower
within whose brightening strictness Danae
saw the night severed and the glowing throng
descend,felt on her flesh the amorous strain
of gradual hands and yielding to that fee
her eager body's unimmortal flower
knew in the darkness a more burning rain?

2.
And still the mad magnificent herald Spring
assembles beauty from forgetfulness
with the wild trump of April:witchery
of sound and odour drives the wingless thing
man forth in the bright air,for now the red
leaps in the maple's cheek,and suddenly
by shining hordes in sweet unserious dress
ascends the golden crocus from the dead.

On dappled dawn forth rides the pungent sun
with hooded day preening upon his hand
followed by gay untimid final flowers
(which dressed in various tremulous armor stun
the eyes of ragged earth who sees them pass)
while hunted from his kingdom winter cowers,
seeing green armies steadily expand
hearing the spear-song of the marching grass.

A silver sudden parody of snow
tickles the air to golden tears,and hark!
the flicker's laughing yet,while on the hills
the pines deepen to whispers primeval and throw
backward their foreheads to the barbarous bright
sky,and suddenly from the valley thrills
the unimaginable upward lark
and drowns the earth and passes into light

(slowly in life's serene perpetual round
a pale world gathers comfort to her soul,
hope richly scattered by the abundant sun
invades the new mosaic of the ground
-let but the incurious curtaining dusk be drawn
surpassing nets are sedulously spun
to snare the brutal dew,-the authentic scroll
of fairie hands and vanishing with the dawn).

Spring,that omits no mention of desire
in every curved and curling thing,yet holds
continuous intercourse-through skies and trees
the lilac's smoke the poppy's pompous fire
the pansy's purple patience and the grave
frailty of daises-by what rare unease
revealed of teasingly transparent folds-
with man's poor soul superlatively brave.

Surely from robes of particoloured peace
with mouth flower-faint and undiscovered eyes
and dim slow perfect body amorous
(whiter than lilies which are born and cease
for being whiter than this world)exhales
the hovering high perfume curious
of that one month for whom the whole years dies,
risen at length from palpitating veils.

O still miraculous May!O shining girl
of time untarnished!O small intimate
gently primeval hands,frivolous feet
divine!O singular and breathless pearl!
O indefinable frail ultimate pose!
O visible beatitude sweet sweet
intolerable!silence immaculate
of god's evasive audible great rose!

3.
Lover,lead forth thy love unto that bed
prepared by whitest hands of waiting years,
curtained with wordless worship absolute,
unto the certain altar at whose head
stands that clear candle whose expecting breath
exults upon the tongue of flame half-mute,
(haste ere some thrush with silver several tears
complete the perfumed paraphrase of death).

Now is the time when all occasional things
close into silence,only one tree,one
svelte translation of eternity
unto the pale meaning of heaven clings,
(whose million leaves in winsome indolence
simmer upon thinking twilight momently)
as down the oblivious west's numerous dun
magnificence conquers magnificence.

In heaven's intolerable athanor
inimitably tortured the base day
utters at length her soft intrinsic hour,
and from those tenuous fires which more and more
sink and are lost the divine alchemist,
the magus of creation,lifts a flower-
whence is the world's insufferable clay
clothed with incognizable amethyst.

Lady at whose imperishable smile
the amazed doves flicker upon sunny wings
as if in terror of eternity,
(or seeming that they would mistrust a while
the moving of beauteous dead mouths throughout
that very proud transparent company
of quivering ghosts-of-love which scarcely sings
drifting in slow diaphanous faint rout),

queen in the inconceivable embrace
of whose tremendous hair that blossom stands
whereof is most desire,yet less than those
twain perfect roses whose ambrosial grace,
goddess,thy crippled thunder-forging groom
or the loud lord of skipping maenads knows,-
having Discordia's apple in thy hands,
which the scared shepherd gave thee for his doom-

O thou within the chancel of whose charms
the tall boy god of everlasting war
received the shuddering sacrament of sleep,
betwixt whose cool incorrigible arms
impaled upon delicious mystery,
with gaunt limbs reeking of the whispered deep,
deliberate groping ocean fondled o'er
the warm long flower of unchastity,

imperial Cytherea,from frail foam
sprung with irrevocable nakedness
to strike the young world into smoking song-
as the first star perfects the sensual dome
of darkness,and the sweet strong final bird
transcends the sight,O thou to whom belong
th ehearts of lovers!-I beseech thee bless
thy suppliant singer and his wandering word.

Fast rode the knight

Author: Stephen Crane

Fast rode the knight
With spurs, hot and reeking,
Ever waving an eager sword,
"To save my lady!"
Fast rode the knIght,
And leaped from saddle to war.
Men of steel flickered and gleamed
Like riot of silver lights,
And the gold of the knight's good banner
Still waved on a castle wall.
. . . . .
A horse,
Blowing, staggering, bloody thing,
Forgotten at foot of castle wall.
A horse
Dead at foot of castle wall.

Filling Station

Author: Elizabeth Bishop

Oh, but it is dirty!
this little filling station,
oil-soaked, oil-permeated
to a disturbing, over-all
black translucency.
Be careful with that match!

Father wears a dirty,
oil-soaked monkey suit
that cuts him under the arms,
and several quick and saucy
and greasy sons assist him
(it's a family filling station),
all quite thoroughly dirty.

Do they live in the station?
It has a cement porch
behind the pumps, and on it
a set of crushed and grease-
impregnated wickerwork;
on the wicker sofa
a dirty dog, quite comfy.

Some comic books provide
the only note of color
of certain color. They lie
upon a big dim doily
draping a taboret
(part of the set), beside
a big hirsute begonia.

Why the extraneous plant?
Why the taboret?
Why, oh why, the doily?
(Embroidered in daisy stitch
with marguerites, I think,
and heavy with gray crochet.)

Somebody embroidered the doily.
Somebody waters the plant,
or oils it, maybe. Somebody
arranges the rows of cans
so that they softly say:
ESSO SO SO SO

to high-strung automobiles.
Somebody loves us all.

Frost At Midnight

Author: Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry
Came loud--and hark, again ! loud as before.
The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,
Have left me to that solitude, which suits
Abstruser musings : save that at my side
My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.
'Tis calm indeed ! so calm, that it disturbs
And vexes meditation with its strange
And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood,
This populous village ! Sea, and hill, and wood,
With all the numberless goings-on of life,
Inaudible as dreams ! the thin blue flame
Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not;
Only that film, which fluttered on the grate,
Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing.
Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature
Gives it dim sympathies with me who live,
Making it a companionable form,
Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit
By its own moods interprets, every where
Echo or mirror seeking of itself,
And makes a toy of Thought.

But O ! how oft,
How oft, at school, with most believing mind,
Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars,
To watch that fluttering stranger ! and as oft
With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt
Of my sweet birth-place, and the old church-tower,
Whose bells, the poor man's only music, rang
From morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day,
So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me
With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear
Most like articulate sounds of things to come !
So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt,
Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams !
And so I brooded all the following morn,
Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine eye
Fixed with mock study on my swimming book :
Save if the door half opened, and I snatched
A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up,
For still I hoped to see the stranger's face,
Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved,
My play-mate when we both were clothed alike !

Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,
Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm,
Fill up the interspersed vacancies
And momentary pauses of the thought !
My babe so beautiful ! it thrills my heart
With tender gladness, thus to look at thee,
And think that thou shalt learn far other lore,
And in far other scenes ! For I was reared
In the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim,
And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.
But thou, my babe ! shalt wander like a breeze
By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags
Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,
Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores
And mountain crags : so shalt thou see and hear
The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible
Of that eternal language, which thy God
Utters, who from eternity doth teach
Himself in all, and all things in himself.
Great universal Teacher ! he shall mould
Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask.

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw ; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.

Funeral Blues

Author: W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Goblin Market

Author: Christina Rossetti

Morning and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries;—
All ripe together
In summer weather,—
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy:
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;
Come buy, come buy."

Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger tips.
"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
"We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots ?"
"Come buy," call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
"Oh," cried Lizzie, "Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men."
Lizzie covered up her eyes,
Covered close lest they should look;

Laura reared her glossy head,
And whispered like the restless brook:
"Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little men.
One hauls a basket,
One bears a plate,
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Thro' those fruit bushes."
"No," said Lizzie: "No, no, no;
Their offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would harm us."
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cats face,
One whisked a tail,
One tramped at a rat's pace,
One crawled like a snail,
One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.
She heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.

Laura stretched her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.

Backwards up the mossy glen
Turned and trooped the goblin men,
With their shrill repeated cry,
"Come buy, come buy."
When they reached where Laura was
They stood stock still upon the moss,
Leering at each other,
Brother with queer brother;
Signalling each other,
Brother with sly brother.
One set his basket down,
One reared his plate;
One began to weave a crown
Of tendrils, leaves and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not such in any town);
One heaved the golden weight
Of dish and fruit to offer her:
"Come buy, come buy," was still their cry.

Laura stared but did not stir,
Longed but had no money:
The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey,
The cat-faced purr'd,
The rat-paced spoke a word
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly;"—
One whistled like a bird.

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
"Good folk, I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no copper in my purse,
I have no silver either,
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather."
"You have much gold upon your head,"
They answered all together:
"Buy from us with a golden curl."
She clipped a precious golden lock,
She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,
Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flowed that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She sucked and sucked and sucked the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;
She sucked until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away
But gathered up one kernel-stone,
And knew not was it night or day
As she turned home alone.

Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
"Dear, you should not stay so late,
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the moonlight,
Took their gifts both choice and many,
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Plucked from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever in the moonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought them by night and day,
Found them no more but dwindled and grew grey;
Then fell with the first snow,
While to this day no grass will grow
Where she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so."
"Nay, hush," said Laura:
"Nay, hush, my sister:
I ate and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still;
Tomorrow night I will
Buy more:" and kissed her:
"Have done with sorrow;
I'll bring you plums tomorrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap,
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink
With lilies at the brink,
And sugar-sweet their sap."
Golden head by golden head,
Like two pigeons in one nest
Folded in each other's wings,
They lay down in their curtained bed:
Like two blossoms on one stem,
Like two flakes of new-fall'n snow,
Like two wands of ivory
Tipped with gold for awful kings.
Moon and stars gazed in at them,
Wind sang to them lullaby,
Lumbering owls forbore to fly,
Not a bat flapped to and fro
Round their rest:
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Locked together in one nest.

Early in the morning
When the first cock crowed his warning,
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
Laura rose with Lizzie:
Fetched in honey, milked the cows,
Aired and set to rights the house,
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
Next churned butter, whipped up cream,
Fed their poultry, sat and sewed;
Talked as modest maidens should:
Lizzie with an open heart,
Laura in an absent dream,
One content, one sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day's delight,
One longing for the night.

At length slow evening came:
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura most like a leaping flame.
They drew the gurgling water from its deep;
Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags,
Then turning homewards said: "The sunset flushes
Those furthest loftiest crags;
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags,
No wilful squirrel wags,
The beasts and birds are fast asleep."
But Laura loitered still among the rushes
And said the bank was steep.

And said the hour was early still,
The dew not fall'n, the wind not chill:
Listening ever, but not catching
The customary cry,
"Come buy, come buy,"
With its iterated jingle
Of sugar-baited words:
Not for all her watching
Once discerning even one goblin
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;
Let alone the herds
That used to tramp along the glen,
In groups or single,
Of brisk fruit-merchant men.
Till Lizzie urged, "O Laura, come;
I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look:
You should not loiter longer at this brook:
Come with me home.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
Each glowworm winks her spark,
Let us get home before the night grows dark:
For clouds may gather
Tho' this is summer weather,
Put out the lights and drench us thro';
Then if we lost our way what should we do?"

Laura turned cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone,
That goblin cry,
"Come buy our fruits, come buy."
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
Must she no more such succous pasture find,
Gone deaf and blind?
Her tree of life drooped from the root:
She said not one word in her heart's sore ache;
But peering thro' the dimness, nought discerning,
Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
So crept to bed, and lay
Silent till Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
And gnashed her teeth for baulked desire, and wept
As if her heart would break.

Day after day, night after night,
Laura kept watch in vain
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry:
"Come buy, come buy;"—
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen:
But when the noon waxed bright
Her hair grew thin and grey;
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift decay and burn
Her fire away.

One day remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall that faced the south;
Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root,
Watched for a waxing shoot,
But there came none:
It never saw the sun,
It never felt the trickling moisture run:
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of leaf-crowned trees,
And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.
She no more swept the house,
Tended the fowls or cows,
Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
Brought water from the brook:
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
And would not eat.

Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister's cankerous care
Yet not to share.
She night and morning
Caught the goblins' cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:"—
Beside the brook, along the glen,
She heard the tramp of goblin men,
The voice and stir
Poor Laura could not hear;
Longed to buy fruit to comfort her,
But feared to pay too dear.
She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
Who should have been a bride;
But who for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In her gay prime,
In earliest Winter time,
With the first glazing rime,
With the first snow-fall of crisp Winter time.
Till Laura dwindling
Seemed knocking at Death's door:
Then Lizzie weighed no more
Better and worse;
But put a silver penny in her purse,
Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze
At twilight, halted by the brook:
And for the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.

Laughed every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Came towards her hobbling,
Flying, running, leaping,
Puffing and blowing,
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling,
Mopping and mowing,
Full of airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel- and wombat-like,
Snail-paced in a hurry,
Parrot-voiced and whistler,
Helter skelter, hurry skurry,
Chattering like magpies,
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes,—
Hugged her and kissed her,
Squeezed and caressed her:
Stretched up their dishes,
Panniers, and plates:
"Look at our apples
Russet and dun,
Bob at our cherries,
Bite at our peaches,
Citrons and dates,
Grapes for the asking,
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun,
Plums on their twigs;
Pluck them and suck them,
Pomegranates, figs."—
"Good folk," said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie:
"Give me much and many:"—
Held out her apron,
Tossed them her penny.
"Nay, take a seat with us,
Honour and eat with us,"
They answered grinning:
"Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry;
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavour would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us,
Be welcome guest with us,
Cheer you and rest with us."—
"Thank you," said Lizzie: "But one waits
At home alone for me:
So without further parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits tho' much and many,
Give me back my silver penny
I tossed you for a fee."-
They began to scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One called her proud,
Cross-grained, uncivil;
Their tones waxed loud,
Their looks were evil.
Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbowed and jostled her,
Clawed with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soiled her stocking,
Twitched her hair out by the roots,
Stamped upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeezed their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.
White and golden Lizzie stood,
Like a lily in a flood,—
Like a rock of blue-veined stone
Lashed by tides obstreperously,—
Like a beacon left alone
In a hoary roaring sea,
Sending up a golden fire,—
Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree
White with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee,—
Like a royal virgin town
Topped with gilded dome and spire
Close beleaguered by a fleet
Mad to tug her standard down.

One may lead a horse to water,
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Tho' the goblins cuffed and caught her,
Coaxed and fought her,
Bullied and besought her,
Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,
Kicked and knocked her,
Mauled and mocked her,
Lizzie uttered not a word;
Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in:
But laughed in heart to feel the drip
Of juice that syrupped all her face,
And lodged in dimples other chin,
And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people
Worn out by her resistance
Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit
Along whichever road they took,
Not leaving root or stone or shoot;
Some writhed into the ground,
Some dived into the brook
With ring and ripple,
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
Some vanished in the distance.

In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank, tore thro' the furze,
Threaded copse and dingle,
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse,
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She ran and ran
As if she feared some goblin man
Dogged her with gibe or curse
Or something worse:
But not one goblin skurried after,
Nor was she pricked by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with chaste
And inward laughter,

She cried "Laura," up the garden,
"Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me:
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men."

Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutched her hair:
"Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing
And ruined in my ruin,
Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?"—
She clung about her sister,
Kissed and kissed and kissed her:
Tears once again
Refreshed her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.
Her lips began to scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She loathed the feast:
Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks streamed like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.

Swift fire spread thro' her veins, knocked at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame;
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense failed in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life?

Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watched by her,
Counted her pulse's flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cooled her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirped about their eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream,
Laughed in the innocent old way,
Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of grey,
Her breath was sweet as May
And light danced in her eyes.
Days, weeks, months, years
Afterwards, when both were wives
With children of their own;
Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
Their lives bound up in tender lives;
Laura would call the little ones
And tell them other early prime,
Those pleasant days long gone
Of not-returning time:
Would talk about the haunted glen,
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,
Their fruits like honey to the throat
But poison in the blood;
(Men sell not such in any town:)
Would tell them how her sister stood
In deadly peril to do her good,
And win the fiery antidote:
Then joining hands to little hands
Would bid them cling together,
"For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands."

Happiness

Author: Raymond Carver

So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.

When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.

They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.

I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.

They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.

Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.

Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.

I Cannot Live With You

Author: Emily Dickinson

I cannot live with you,
It would be life,
And life is over there
Behind the shelf

The sexton keeps the key to,
Putting up
Our life, his porcelain,
Like a cup

Discarded of the housewife,
Quaint or broken;
A newer Sevres pleases,
Old ones crack.

I could not die with you,
For one must wait
To shut the other's gaze down,
You could not.

And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's privilege?

Nor could I rise with you,
Because your face
Would put out Jesus'.
That new grace

Glow plain and foreign
On my homesick eye,
Except that you, than he
Shone closer by.

I know why the caged bird sings

Author: Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

I carry your heart with me

by E. E. Cummings

I carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

I Taught Myself To Live Simply

Author: Anna Akhmatova

I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops
I compose happy verses
about life's decay, decay and beauty.
I come back. The fluffy cat
licks my palm, purrs so sweetly
and the fire flares bright
on the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof
occasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my door
I may not even hear.

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

Author: William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

If those I loved were lost

Author: Emily Dickinson

If those I loved were lost
The Crier's voice would tell me --
If those I loved were found
The bells of Ghent would ring --

Did those I loved repose
The Daisy would impel me.
Philip -- when bewildered
Bore his riddle in!

If You Forget Me

Author: Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

If You Have Seen

Author: Thomas Moore

Good reader! if you e'er have seen,
When Phoebus hastens to his pillow
The mermaids, with their tresses green,
Dancing upon the western billow:
If you have seen, at twilight dim,
When the lone spirit's vesper hymn
Floats wild along the winding shore:
If you have seen, through mist of eve,
The fairy train their ringlets weave,
Glancing along the spangled green;--
If you have seen all this and more,
God bless me! what a deal you've seen!

In Arthur's House

Author: William Morris

In Arthur's house whileome was I
When happily the time went by
In midmost glory of his days.
He held his court then in a place
Whereof ye shall not find the name
In any story of his fame:
Caerliel good sooth men called it not,
Nor London Town, nor Camelot;
Yet therein had we bliss enow.
--Ah, far off was the overthrow
Of all that Britain praised and loved;
And though among us lightly moved
A love that could but lead to death,
Smooth-skinned he seemed, of rosy breath,
A fear to sting a lady's lip,
No ruin of goodly fellowship,
No shame and death of all things good.

Forgive the old carle's babbling mood;
As here I sit grey-haired and old,
My life gone as a story told,
Ye bid me tell a story too;
And then the evil days and few,
That yet were overlong for me
Rise up so clear I may not see
The pictures of my minstrel lore.

Well hearken! on a day of yore
From prime of morn the court did ride
Amidmost of the summertide
To search the dwellings of the deer
Until the heat of noon was near;
Then slackening speed awhile they went
Adown a ragged thorn-bushed bent
At whose feet grew a tangled wood
Of oak and holly nowise good:
But therethrough with some pain indeed
And rending of the ladies' weed
They won at last, and after found
A space of green-sward grown around
By oak and holly set full close;
And in the midst of it arose
Two goodly sycamores that made
A wide and little sun-pierced shade
About their high boles straight and green:
A fount was new-born there-between,
And running on as clear as glass,
Flowed winding on amid the grass
Until the thick wood swallowed it.
A place for happy folk to sit
While the hot day grew hotter still
Till eve began to work his will.
--So might those happy people think
Who grudged to see the red sun sink
And end another day of bliss
Although no joy tomorn should miss --
They laughed for joy as they drew nigh
The shade and fount: but lo, thereby
A man beside the fountain laid
The while his horse 'twixt sun and shade
Cropped the sweet grass: but little care
Had these of guile or giant's lair,
And scarce a foot before the Queen
Rode Gawain o'er the daisied green
To see what man his pleasure took;
Who rose up in meanwhile and shook
His tangled hair aback, as one
Who e'en but now his sleep hath done.
Rough-head and yellow-haired was he
Great-eyed, as folk have told to me,
And big and stout enow of limb:
As one who thinks no harm he smiled,
And cried out: "Well met in the wild,
Fair King and Queen; and ye withal
Sweet dames and damsels! Well befal
This day, whereon I see thee nigh,
O Lancelot, before I die!
And surely shall my heart rejoice
Sir Gawain, when I hear thy voice!"

Then Lancelot laughed: "Thou knowest us then
Full well among a many men?"

"As quoth the lion to the mouse,"
The man said; "in King Arthur's House
Men are not names of men alone,
But coffers rather of deeds done."

The Queen smiled blithe of heart, and spake:
"Hast thou done deeds for ladies' sake?"

"Nay Dame," he said, "I am but young;
A little have I lived and sung
And seen thy face this happy noon."

The King said: "May we hearken soon
Some merry tale of thee? for I
Am skilled to know men low and high
And deem thee neither churl nor fool."

Said he, "My fathers went to school
Where folk are taught a many things,
But not by bliss: men called them kings
In days when kings were near to seek;
But as a long thread waxeth weak,
So is it with our house; and now
I wend me home from oaken bough
Unto a stead where roof and wall
Shall not have over far to fall
When their last day comes."
As he spake
He reddened: "Nathless for their sake,
Whom the world loved once, mock not me
O King, if thence I bring to thee
A morsel and a draught of wine,
Though nothing king-like here thou dine."

Of some kind word King Arthur thought,
But ere he spake the woodman caught
His forest-nag and leapt thereon,
And through the tangled brake was gone.
Then leapt the King down, glad at heart,
Thinking, This day shall not depart
Without some voice from days that were;
And lightly leapt down Guenevere,
And man and maid lay presently
Neath the bee-laden branches high,
And sweet the scent of trodden grass
Amid the blossoms' perfume was.

There long they lay, and little spake,
As folk right loth the calm to break;
Till lo upon the forest-breeze
A noise of folk, and from the trees
They came: the first-seen forester,
A grizzled carle in such-like gear,
And then two maidens poorly clad
Though each a silver chaplet had
And round her neck a golden chain:
And last two varlets led a wain
Drawn by white oxen well bedight
With oaken boughs and lilies white;
Therein there lay a cask of wine
And baskets piled with bread full fine,
And flesh of hart and roe and hare;
And in the midst upon a chair
Done over with a cloth of gold
There sat a man exceeding old
With long white locks: and clad was he
No other than his company
Save that a golden crown he bore
Full fairly fashioned as of yore,
And with a sword was girt about
Such as few folk will see I doubt.
Right great it was: the scabbard thin
Was fashioned of a serpent's skin,
In every scale a stone of worth;
Of tooth of sea-lion of the north
The cross was, and the blood-boot stone
That heals the hurt the blade hath done
Hung down therefrom in silken purse:
The ruddy kin of Niblung's curse
O'er tresses of a sea-wife's hair
Was wrapped about the handle fair;
And last a marvellous sapphire stone
Amidst of the great pommel shone,
A blue flame in the forest green.
And Arthur deemed he ne'er had seen
So fair a sword: nay not when he
The wonder of the land-locked sea
Drew from the stone that Christmas-tide.

Now forth the forest youth did ride,
Leapt down beside the King, and spake:
"King Arthur for thy greatness' sake
My grandsire comes to look on thee;
My father standeth here by me;
These maidens are my sisters twain;
My brethren draw out from the wain
Somewhat thy woodland cheer to mend."

Thereat his sire the knee did bend
Before the King, who o'er the brown
Rough sleeve of the man's homespun gown
Beheld a goodly golden ring:
And fell to greater marvelling
When he beheld how fine and fair
The woodman's kneeling sisters were.
And all folk thereby deemed in sooth
That (save indeed the first seen youth)
These folk were nobler e'en than those
Of Arthur's wonder of a house.

But now the elder drew anigh,
By half a head was he more high
Than Arthur or than Lancelot,
Nor had eld bent him: he kneeled not
Before the King, but smiling took
His hands in hands that nowise shook;
And the King joyed as he who sees
One of his fathers' images
Stand glad before him in a dream.

Then down beside the bubbling stream
They sat together, and the King
Was loth to fall a questioning;
So first the elder spake and said:

"It joys me of thy goodlihead
O great king of our land; and though
Our blood within thee doth not flow,
And I who was a king of yore
May scarcely kneel thy feet before,
Yet do I deem thy right the best
Of all the kings who rule the West.
I love thy name and fame: behold,
King Arthur, I am grown so old
In guilelessness, the Gods have sent,
Be I content or uncontent,
This gift unto my latter days
That I may see as through a haze
The lives and deeds of days to come:
I laugh for some, I weep for some --
I neither laugh nor weep for thee,
But trembling through the clouds I see
Thy life and glory to the end;
And how the sweet and bitter blend
Within the cup that thou must drink.
Good is it that thou shalt not shrink
From either: that the afterdays
Shall still win glory from thy praise
And scarce believe thee laid asleep
When o'er thy deeds the days lie deep."

He ceased but his old lips moved still,
As though they would the tale fulfil
His heart kept secret: Arthur's eyes
Gleamed with the pride that needs would rise
Up from his heart, and low he said:
"I know the living by the dead
I know the future by the past."
Wise eyes and kind the elder cast
Upon him; while a nameless fear
Smote to the heart of Guenevere,
And, fainting there, was turned to love:
And thence a nameless pain did move
The noble heart of Lancelot,
The store of longing unforgot.
-- And west a little moved the sun
And noon began, and noon was done.

But as the elder's grey eyes turned
On Guenevere's, her sweet face burned
With sweet shame; as though she knew
He read her story through and through.
Kindly he looked on her and said:
"O Queen, the chief of goodlihead,
Be blithe and glad this day at least
When in my fathers' house ye feast:
For surely in their ancient hall
Ye sit now: look, there went the wall
Where yon turf ridge runs west-away:
Time was I heard my grand-dame say
She saw this stream run bubbling down
The hall-floor shut in trench of stone;
Therein she washed her father's cup
That last eve e'er the fire went up
O'er ridge and rafter and she passed
Betwixt the foeman's spears the last
Of all the women, wrapping round
This sword the gift of Odin's ground."

He shook the weapon o'er his knee,
Thereon gazed Arthur eagerly.
"Draw it, my lord," quoth Guenevere,
"Of such things have we little fear
In Arthur's house." And Lancelot rose
To look upon the treasure close.
But grimly smiled the ancient man:
"E'en as the sun arising wan
In the black sky when Heimdall's horn
Screams out and the last day is born,
This blade to eyes of men shall be
On that dread day I shall not see --"
Fierce was his old face for a while:
But once again he 'gan to smile
And took the Queen's slim lily hand
And set it on the deadly brand
Then laughed and said: "Hold this, O Queen,
Thine hand is where God's hands have been,
For this is Tyrfing: who knows when
His blade was forged? Belike ere men
Had dwelling on the middle-earth.
At least a man's life is it worth
To draw it out once: so behold
These peace-strings wrought of pearl and gold
The scabbard to the cross that bind
Lest a rash hand and heart made blind
Should draw it forth unwittingly."

Blithe laughed King Arthur: "Sir," said he,
"We well may deem in days by gone
This sword, the blade of such an one
As thou hast been, would seldom slide
Back to its sheath unsatisfied.
Lo now how fair a feast thy kin
Have dight for us and might we win
Some tale of thee in Tyrfing's praise,
Some deed he wrought in greener days,
This were a blithesome hour indeed."

"Sir," said the elder, "little need
To pray me hereof. Please ye dine
And drink a cup of woodman's wine,
Surely meantime some tale shall stir
Within my heart of days that were."

Then to their meat they gat and there
Feasted amid the woodland fair
The fairest folk of all the land.
Ah me when first the Queen's fair hand
Drew near the kneeling forest youth
New-wrought the whole world seemed in sooth
And nothing left therein of ill.
So at the last the Queen did fill
A cup of wine, and drank and said:
"In memory of thy fathers dead
I drink, fair lord, drink now with me
And then bethink thee presently
Of deeds that once won prize and praise
The glory of thy fathers' days."
He drank and laughed and said," Nay, nay,
Keep we the peace-strings whole today.
This draught from where thy lips have been
Within mine old heart maketh green
The memory of a love full true,
The first recorded deed that drew
My fathers' house from dark to light.

If thus my grandame told aright,
A rougher place our land was then,
Quoth she, than with us living men,
And other trees were in the wood
And folk of somewhat other blood
Than ours: then were the small-eyed bears
More plenty in the woodland lairs
Than badgers now: no holiday
It was to chase the wolves away,
Yea there were folk who had to tell
Of lyngworms lying on the fell,
And fearful things by lake and fen,
And manlike shapes that were not men.
Then fay-folk roamed the woods at noon,
And on the grave-mound in the moon
Faint gleamed the flickering treasure-flame.
Days of the world that won no fame,
Yet now, quoth she, folk looking back
Across the tumult and the wrack
And swelling up of windy lies
And dull fool-fashioned cruelties,
Deem that in those days God abode
On earth and shared ill times and good
And right and wrong with that same folk
Their hands had fashioned for the yoke.
Quoth she, of such nought tells my tale,
Yet saith that such as should prevail
In those days o'er the fears of earth
Must needs have been some deal of worth,
And saith that had ye seen a kin
Who dwelt these very woods within
Them at the least ye would have told
For cousins of the Gods of old.
Amongst all these it tells of one,
The goodman's last-begotten son,
Some twenty summers old: as fair
As any flower that blossomed there
In sun and rain, and strong therewith
And lissom as a willow withe.
Now through these woods amidst of June
This youngling went until at noon
From out of the thicket his fair face
Peered forth upon this very place;
For he had been a-hunting nigh
And wearied thought a while to lie
Beside the freshness of the stream.
But lo as in a morning dream
The place was changed, for there was dight
A fair pavilion blue and white
E'en where we play, and all around
Was talk of men and diverse sound,
Tinkling of bit and neigh of steed
Clashing of arms and iron weed.
For round about the painted tent
Armed folk a many came or went,
Or on the fresh grass lay about.
Surely our youth at first had doubt
If 'twere not better to be gone
Than meet these stranger folk alone --
But wot ye well such things as these
Were new to him born mid the trees
And wild things: and he thought, Maybe
The household of the Gods I see:
Who for as many tales as I
Have heard of them, I ne'er saw nigh.
If they be men, I wotted not
That such fair raiment men had got;
They will be glad to show them then.

For one thing taught these woodland men
Whatever wisdom they let fall
Men since have won Fear nought at all.

So from the holly brake he strode
Shouldering the while his hunter's load,
A new slain roe; but there arose
To meet him half a score of those
Whom in fair words he greeted well.

Now was he clad in a sheep's fell
And at his back his quiver hung,
His woodknife on his thigh: unstrung
His bow he held in a staff's stead.
An oaken wreath was round his head
From whence his crispy locks of brown
Well nigh unto his belt hung down,
And howso frank his eyes might be
A half-frown soothly might you see
As these men handled sword or spear
And cried out, "Hold, what dost thou here?"
"Ah," said he, "then no Gods ye are.
Fear not, I shall not make you war."
Therewith his hunting-knife he drew
And the long blade before them he threw.
Then loud they laughed; one sheathed his sword:
"Thanks, army-leader, for that word!
We are not Gods e'en as thou say'st,
Nor thou a devil of the waste
But e'en a devil's a friend belike."
Something [of] hate hereat did strike
Unto the woodsman's unused heart,
Yet he spake softly for his part:
"What men are ye and where dwell ye?
What is the wondrous house I see?"
"In the fair southland is our home
Yet from the north as now we come,"
Said one: then with a mocking smile,
"And in our house there dwells awhile
A very Goddess of the north.
But lo you, take a thing of worth
For that thy quarry, and begone."

But as he spake another one
Spake softly in his ear: and so
The word from this to that did go,
With laughing that seemed nowise good
Unto the dweller of the wood,
Who saying nought moved toward the tent.
But they came round him as he went
And said: "Nay, pagan, stay thy feet;
Thou art not one our dame to greet

Let America Be America Again

Author: Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!

Life is fine

Author: Langston Hughes

I went down to the river,
I set down on the bank.
I tried to think but couldn't,
So I jumped in and sank.

I came up once and hollered!
I came up twice and cried!
If that water hadn't a-been so cold
I might've sunk and died.

But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!

I took the elevator
Sixteen floors above the ground.
I thought about my baby
And thought I would jump down.

I stood there and I hollered!
I stood there and I cried!
If it hadn't a-been so high
I might've jumped and died.

But it was High up there! It was high!

So since I'm still here livin',
I guess I will live on.
I could've died for love--
But for livin' I was born

Though you may hear me holler,
And you may see me cry--
I'll be dogged, sweet baby,
If you gonna see me die.

Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!

Mending Wall

Author: Robert Frost

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'

Messy Room

Author: Shel Silverstein

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!

No Second Troy

Author: William Butler Yeats

Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great.
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?

O Captain! My Captain!

Author: Walt Whitman

1

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

2

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

3

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

One Hundred and Three

Author: Henry Lawson

With the frame of a man, and the face of a boy, and a manner strangely wild,
And the great, wide, wondering, innocent eyes of a silent-suffering child;
With his hideous dress and his heavy boots, he drags to Eternity—
And the Warder says, in a softened tone: ‘Keep step, One Hundred and Three.’

’Tis a ghastly travesty of drill—or a ghastly farce of work—
But One Hundred and Three, he catches step with a start, a shuffle and jerk.
’Tis slow starvation in separate cells, and a widow’s son is he,
And the widow, she drank before he was born—(Keep step, One Hundred and Three!)

They shut a man in the four-by-eight, with a six-inch slit for air,
Twenty-three hours of the twenty-four, to brood on his virtues there.
And the dead stone walls and the iron door close in as an iron band
On eyes that followed the distant haze far out on the level land.

Bread and water and hominy, and a scrag of meat and a spud,
A Bible and thin flat book of rules, to cool a strong man’s blood;
They take the spoon from the cell at night—and a stranger might think it odd;
But a man might sharpen it on the floor, and go to his own Great God.

One Hundred and Three, it is hard to believe that you saddled your horse at dawn;
There were girls that rode through the bush at eve, and girls who lolled on the lawn.
There were picnic parties in sunny bays, and ships on the shining sea;
There were foreign ports in the glorious days—(Hold up, One Hundred and Three!)

A man came out at exercise time from one of the cells to-day:
’Twas the ghastly spectre of one I knew, and I thought he was far away;
We dared not speak, but he signed ‘Farewell—fare—well,’ and I knew by this
And the number stamped on his clothes (not sewn) that a heavy sentence was his.

Where five men do the work of a boy, with warders not to see,
It is sad and bad and uselessly mad, it is ugly as it can be,
From the flower-beds laid to fit the gaol, in circle and line absurd,
To the gilded weathercock on the church, agape like a strangled bird.

Agape like a strangled bird in the sun, and I wonder what he could see?
The Fleet come in, and the Fleet go out? (Hold up, One Hundred and Three!)
The glorious sea, and the bays and Bush, and the distant mountains blue
(Keep step, keep step, One Hundred and Three, for my lines are halting too)

The great, round church with its volume of sound, where we dare not turn our eyes—
They take us there from our separate hells to sing of Paradise.
In all the creeds there is hope and doubt, but of this there is no doubt:
That starving prisoners faint in church, and the warders carry them out.

They double-lock at four o’clock and the warders leave their keys,
And the Governor strolls with a friend at eve through his stone conservatories;
Their window slits are like idiot mouths with square stone chins adrop,
And the weather-stains for the dribble, and the dead flat foreheads atop.

No light save the lights in the yard beneath the clustering lights of the Lord—
And the lights turned in to the window slits of the Observation Ward.
(They eat their meat with their fingers there in a madness starved and dull—
Oh! the padded cells and the O—b—s are nearly always full.)

Rules, regulations—red-tape and rules; all and alike they bind:
Under ‘separate treatment ’ place the deaf; in the dark cell shut the blind!
And somewhere down in his sandstone tomb, with never a word to save,
One Hundred and Three is keeping step, as he’ll keep it to his grave.

The press is printing its smug, smug lies, and paying its shameful debt—
It speaks of the comforts that prisoners have, and ‘holidays’ prisoners get.
The visitors come with their smug, smug smiles through the gaol on a working day,
And the public hears with its large, large ears what authorities have to say.

They lay their fingers on well-hosed walls, and they tread on the polished floor;
They peep in the generous shining cans with their ration Number Four.
And the visitors go with their smug, smug smiles; the reporters’ work is done;
Stand up! my men, who have done your time on ration Number One!

Speak up, my men! I was never the man to keep my own bed warm,
I have jogged with you round in the Fools’ Parade, and I’ve worn your uniform;
I’ve seen you live, and I’ve seen you die, and I’ve seen your reason fail—
I’ve smuggled tobacco and loosened my tongue—and I’ve been punished in gaol.

Ay! clang the spoon on the iron floor, and shove in the bread with your toe,
And shut with a bang the iron door, and clank the bolt—just so,
With an ignorant oath for a last good-night—or the voice of a filthy thought.
By the Gipsy Blood you have caught a man you’ll be sorry that ever you caught.

He shall be buried alive without meat, for a day and a night unheard
If he speak to a fellow prisoner, though he die for want of a word.
He shall be punished, and he shall be starved, and he shall in darkness rot,
He shall be murdered body and soul—and God said, ‘Thou shalt not!’

I’ve seen the remand-yard men go out, by the subway out of the yard—
And I’ve seen them come in with a foolish grin and a sentence of Three Years Hard.
They send a half-starved man to the court, where the hearts of men they carve—
Then feed him up in the hospital to give him the strength to starve.

You get the gaol-dust in your throat, in your skin the dead gaol-white;
You get the gaol-whine in your voice and in every letter you write.
And in your eyes comes the bright gaol-light—not the glare of the world’s distraught,
Not the hunted look, nor the guilty look, but the awful look of the Caught.

There was one I met—’twas a mate of mine—in a gaol that is known to us;
He died—and they said it was ‘heart disease’; but he died for want of a truss.
I’ve knelt at the head of the pallid dead, where the living dead were we,
And I’ve closed the yielding lids with my thumbs—(Keep step, One Hundred and Three!)

A criminal face is rare in gaol, where all things else are ripe—
It is higher up in the social scale that you’ll find the criminal type.
But the kindness of man to man is great when penned in a sandstone pen—
The public call us the ‘criminal class,’ but the warders call us ‘the men.’

The brute is a brute, and a kind man kind, and the strong heart does not fail—
A crawler’s a crawler everywhere, but a man is a man in gaol!
For forced ‘desertion’ or drunkenness, or a law’s illegal debt,
While never a man who was a man was ‘reformed’ by punishment yet.

The champagne lady comes home from the course in charge of the criminal swell—
They carry her in from the motor car to the lift in the Grand Hotel.
But armed with the savage Habituals Act they are waiting for you and me,
And the drums, they are beating loud and near. (Keep step, One Hundred and Three!)

The clever scoundrels are all outside, and the moneyless mugs in gaol—
Men do twelve months for a mad wife’s lies or Life for a strumpet’s tale.
If the people knew what the warders know, and felt as the prisoners feel—
If the people knew, they would storm their gaols as they stormed the old Bastile.

And the cackling, screaming half-human hens who were never mothers nor wives
Would send their sisters to such a hell for the term of their natural lives,
Where laws are made in a Female Fit in the Land of the Crazy Fad,
And drunkards in judgment on drunkards sit and the mad condemn the mad.

The High Church service swells and swells where the tinted Christs look down—
It is easy to see who is weary and faint and weareth the thorny crown.
There are swift-made signs that are not to God, and they march us Hellward then.
It is hard to believe that we knelt as boys to ‘for ever and ever, Amen. ’

Warders and prisoners all alike in a dead rot dry and slow—
The author must not write for his own, and the tailor must not sew.
The billet-bound officers dare not speak and discharged men dare not tell
Though many and many an innocent man must brood in this barren hell.

We are most of us criminal, most of us mad, and we do what we can do.
(Remember the Observation Ward and Number Forty-Two.)
There are eyes that see through stone and iron, though the rest of the world be blind—
We are prisoners all in God’s Great Gaol, but the Governor, He is kind.

They crave for sunlight, they crave for meat, they crave for the might-have-been,
But the cruellest thing in the walls of a gaol is the craving for nicotine.
Yet the spirit of Christ is everywhere where the heart of a man can dwell,
It comes like tobacco in prison—or like news to the separate cell.

. They have smuggled him out to the Hospital with no one to tell the tale,
But it’s little the doctors and nurses can do for the patient from Starvinghurst Gaol.
He cannot swallow the food they bring, for a gaol-starved man is he,
And the blanket and screen are ready to draw—(Keep step, One Hundred and Three!)

‘What were you doing, One Hundred and Three?’ and the answer is ‘Three years hard,
And a month to go’—and the whisper is low: ‘There’s the moonlight—out in the yard.’
The drums, they are beating far and low, and the footstep’s light and free,
And the angels are whispering over his bed: ‘Keep step, One Hundred and Three!’

Phenomenal Woman

Author: Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Romance

Author: Edgar Allan Poe

Romance, who loves to nod and sing
With drowsy head and folded wing
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been—most familiar bird—
Taught me my alphabet to say,
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child—with a most knowing eye.

Of late, eternal condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky;
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings,
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away—forbidden things—
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.

Seeker Of Truth

Author: E. E. Cummings

seeker of truth

follow no path
all paths lead where

truth is here

Seven Ages Of Man

Author: William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide,
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Sick

Author: Shel Silverstein

"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay,
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash, and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is---Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

Still I Rise

Author: Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Author: Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Success Is Counted Sweetest

Author: Emily Dickinson

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory

As he defeated-dying
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!

The Blessed Damozel

Author: Dante Gabriel Rossetti

The blessed damozel leaned out
From the gold bar of Heaven;
Her eyes were deeper than the depth
Of waters stilled at even;
She had three lilies in her hand,
And the stars in her hair were seven.

Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,
No wrought flowers did adorn,
But a white rose of Mary's gift,
For service meetly worn;
Her hair that lay along her back
Was yellow like ripe corn.

Herseemed she scarce had been a day
One of God's choristers;
The wonder was not yet quite gone
From that still look of hers;
Albeit, to them she left, her day
Had counted as ten years.

(To one, it is ten years of years.
...Yet now, and in this place,
Surely she leaned o'er me -her hair
Fell all about my face...
Nothing: the autumn-fall of leaves.
The whole year sets apace.)

It was the rampart of God's house
That she was standing on;
By God built over the sheer depth
The which is Space begun;
So high, that looking downward thence
She scarce could see the sun.

It lies in Heaven, across the flood
Of ether, as a bridge.
Beneath, the tides of day and night
With flame and darkness ridge
The void, as low as where this earth
Spins like a fretful midge.

Around her, lovers, newly met
Mid deathless love's acclaims,
Spoke evermore among themselves
Their heart-remembered names;
And the souls mounting up to God
Went by her like thin flames.

And still she bowed herself and stooped
Out of the circling charm;
Until her bosom must have made
The bar she leaned on warm,
And the lilies lay as if asleep
Along her bended arm.

From the fixed place of Heaven she saw
Time like a pulse shake fierce
Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove
Within the gulf to pierce
Its path; and now she spoke as when
The stars sang in their spheres.

The sun was gone now; the curled moon
Was like a little feather
Fluttering far down the gulf; and now
She spoke through the still weather.
Her voice was like the voice the stars
Had when they sang together.

(Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird's song,
Strove not her accents there,
Fain to be hearkened? When those bells
Possessed the midday air,
Strove not her steps to reach my side
Down all the echoing stair?)

"I wish that he were come to me,
For he will come," she said.
"Have I not prayed in Heaven? -on earth,
Lord, Lord, has he not prayed?
Are not two prayers a perfect strength?
And shall I feel afraid?

"When round his head the aureole clings,
And he is clothed in white,
I'll take his hand and go with him
To the deep wells of light;
As unto a stream we will step down,
And bathe there in God's sight.

"We two will stand beside that shrine,
Occult, withheld, untrod,
Whose lamps are stirred continually
With prayer sent up to God;
And see our old prayers, granted, melt
Each like a little cloud.

"We two will lie i' the shadow of
That living mystic tree
Within whose secret growth the Dove
Is sometimes felt to be,
While every leaf that His plumes touch
Saith His Name audibly.

"And I myself will teach to him,
I myself, lying so,
The songs I sing here; with his voice
Shall pause in, hushed and slow,
And find some knowledge at each pause,
Or some new thing to know."

(Alas! we two, we two, thou sayst!
Yea, one wast thou with me
That once of old. But shall God lift
To endless unity
The soul whose likeness with thy soul
Was but its love for thee?)

"We two," she said, "will seek the groves
Where the lady Mary is,
With her five handmaidens, whose names
Are five sweet symphonies,
Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
Margaret and Rosalys.

"Circlewise sit they, with bound locks
And foreheads garlanded;
Into the fine cloth white like flame
Weaving the golden thread,
To fashion the birth-robes for them
Who are just born, being dead.

"He shall fear, haply, and be dumb:
Then will I lay my cheek
To his, and tell about our love,
Not once abashed or weak:
And the dear Mother will approve
My pride, and let me speak.

"Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,
To Him round Whom all souls
Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads
Bowed with their aureoles:
And angels meeting us shall sing
To their citherns and citoles.

"There will I ask of Christ the Lord
Thus much for him and me: -
Only to live as once on earth
With Love, -only to be,
As then awhile, for ever now
Together, I and he."

She gazed and listened and then said,
Less sad of speech than mild, -
"All this is when he comes." She ceased.
The light thrilled towards her, filled
With angels in strong level flight.
Her eyes prayed, and she smiled.

(I saw her smile.) But soon their path
Was vague in distant spheres:
And then she cast her arms along
The golden barriers,
And laid her face between her hands,
And wept. (I heard her tears.)

The Broken Heart

Author: William Barnes

News o' grief had overteaken
Dark-eyed Fanny, now vorseaken;
There she zot, wi' breast a-heaven,
While vrom zide to zide, wi' grieven,
Vell her head, wi' tears a-creepen
Down her cheaks, in bitter weepen.
There wer still the ribbon-bow
She tied avore her hour ov woe,
An' there wer still the hans that tied it
Hangen white,
Or wringen tight,
In ceare that drowned all ceare bezide it.

When a man, wi' heartless slighten,
Mid become a maiden's blighten,
He mid cearelessly vorseake her,
But must answer to her Meaker;
He mid slight, wi' selfish blindness,
All her deeds o' loven-kindness,
God wull waigh 'em wi' the slighten
That mid be her love's requiten;
He do look on each deceiver,
He do know
What weight o' woe
Do break the heart ov ev'ry griever.

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Author: Lord Alfred Tennyson

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Some one had blundered:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wondered:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right through the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reeled from the sabre-stroke
Shattered and sundered.
Then they rode back, but not,
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came through the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

The Dole of the King's Daughter

Author: Oscar Wilde

Seven stars in the still water,
And seven in the sky;
Seven sins on the King's daughter,
Deep in her soul to lie.

Red roses at her feet,
(Roses are red in her red-gold hair)
And O where her bosom and girdle meet
Red roses are hidden there.

Fair is the knight who lieth slain
Amid the rush and reed,
See the lean fishes that are fain
Upon dead men to feed.

Sweet is the page that lieth there,
(Cloth of gold is goodly prey,)
See the black ravens in the air,
Black, O black as the night are they.

What do they there so stark and dead?
(There is blood upon her hand)
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
(There is blood on the river sand.)

There are two that ride from the south to the east,
And two from the north and west,
For the black raven a goodly feast,
For the King's daughter to rest.

There is one man who loves her true,
(Red, O red, is the stain of gore!)
He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew,
(One grave will do for four.)

No moon in the still heaven,
In the black water none,
The sins on her soul are seven,
The sin upon his is one.

The Fairy Temple; Or, Oberon's Chapel

Author: Robert Herrick

RARE TEMPLES THOU HAST SEEN, I KNOW,
AND RICH FOR IN AND OUTWARD SHOW;
SURVEY THIS CHAPEL BUILT, ALONE,
WITHOUT OR LIME, OR WOOD, OR STONE.
THEN SAY, IF ONE THOU'ST SEEN MORE FINE
THAN THIS, THE FAIRIES' ONCE, NOW THINE.

THE TEMPLE

A way enchaced with glass and beads
There is, that to the Chapel leads;
Whose structure, for his holy rest,
Is here the Halcyon's curious nest;
Into the which who looks, shall see
His Temple of Idolatry;
Where he of god-heads has such store,
As Rome's Pantheon had not more.
His house of Rimmon this he calls,
Girt with small bones, instead of walls.
First in a niche, more black than jet,
His idol-cricket there is set;
Then in a polish'd oval by
There stands his idol-beetle-fly;
Next, in an arch, akin to this,
His idol-canker seated is.
Then in a round, is placed by these
His golden god, Cantharides.
So that where'er ye look, ye see
No capital, no cornice free,
Or frieze, from this fine frippery.
Now this the Fairies would have known,
Theirs is a mixt religion:
And some have heard the elves it call
Part Pagan, part Papistical.
If unto me all tongues were granted,
I could not speak the saints here painted.
Saint Tit, Saint Nit, Saint Is, Saint Itis,
Who 'gainst Mab's state placed here right is.
Saint Will o' th' Wisp, of no great bigness,
But, alias, call'd here FATUUS IGNIS.
Saint Frip, Saint Trip, Saint Fill, Saint Filly;--
Neither those other saint-ships will I
Here go about for to recite
Their number, almost infinite;
Which, one by one, here set down are
In this most curious calendar.

First, at the entrance of the gate,
A little puppet-priest doth wait,
Who squeaks to all the comers there,
'Favour your tongues, who enter here.
'Pure hands bring hither, without stain.'
A second pules, 'Hence, hence, profane!'
Hard by, i' th' shell of half a nut,
The holy-water there is put;
A little brush of squirrels' hairs,
Composed of odd, not even pairs,
Stands in the platter, or close by,
To purge the fairy family.
Near to the altar stands the priest,
There offering up the holy-grist;
Ducking in mood and perfect tense,
With (much good do't him) reverence.
The altar is not here four-square,
Nor in a form triangular;
Nor made of glass, or wood, or stone,
But of a little transverse bone;
Which boys and bruckel'd children call
(Playing for points and pins) cockall.
Whose linen-drapery is a thin,
Sub|ile, and ductile codling's skin;
Which o'er the board is smoothly spread
With little seal-work damasked.
The fringe that circumbinds it, too,
Is spangle-work of trembling dew,
Which, gently gleaming, makes a show,
Like frost-work glitt'ring on the snow.
Upon this fetuous board doth stand
Something for shew-bread, and at hand
(Just in the middle of the altar)
Upon an end, the Fairy-psalter,
Graced with the trout-flies' curious wings,
Which serve for watchet ribbonings.
Now, we must know, the elves are led
Right by the Rubric, which they read:
And if report of them be true,
They have their text for what they do;
Ay, and their book of canons too.
And, as Sir Thomas Parson tells,
They have their book of articles;
And if that Fairy knight not lies
They have their book of homilies;
And other Scriptures, that design
A short, but righteous discipline.
The bason stands the board upon
To take the free-oblation;
A little pin-dust, which they hold
More precious than we prize our gold;
Which charity they give to many
Poor of the parish, if there's any.
Upon the ends of these neat rails,
Hatch'd with the silver-light of snails,
The elves, in formal manner, fix
Two pure and holy candlesticks,
In either which a tall small bent
Burns for the altar's ornament.
For sanctity, they have, to these,
Their curious copes and surplices
Of cleanest cobweb, hanging by
In their religious vestery.
They have their ash-pans and their brooms,
To purge the chapel and the rooms;
Their many mumbling mass-priests here,
And many a dapper chorister.
Their ush'ring vergers here likewise,
Their canons and their chaunteries;
Of cloister-monks they have enow,
Ay, and their abbey-lubbers too:
And if their legend do not lie,
They much affect the papacy;
And since the last is dead, there's hope
Elve Boniface shall next be Pope.
They have their cups and chalices,
Their pardons and indulgences,
Their beads of nits, bells, books, and wax-
Candles, forsooth, and other knacks;
Their holy oil, their fasting-spittle,
Their sacred salt here, not a little.
Dry chips, old shoes, rags, grease, and bones,
Beside their fumigations.
Many a trifle, too, and trinket,
And for what use, scarce man would think it.
Next then, upon the chanter's side
An apple's-core is hung up dried,
With rattling kernels, which is rung
To call to morn and even-song.
The saint, to which the most he prays
And offers incense nights and days,
The lady of the lobster is,
Whose foot-pace he doth stroke and kiss,
And, humbly, chives of saffron brings
For his most cheerful offerings.
When, after these, he's paid his vows,
He lowly to the altar bows;
And then he dons the silk-worm's shed,
Like a Turk's turban on his head,
And reverently departeth thence,
Hid in a cloud of frankincense;
And by the glow-worm's light well guided,
Goes to the Feast that's now provided.

The Lady of the Lake (excerpt)

Author: Sir Walter Scott

CANTO SECOND - THE ISLAND (Part II)
Hail to the chief who in triumph advances!
Honoured and blessed be the ever-green pine!
Long may the tree in his banner that glances,
Flourish the shelter and grace of our line!
Heaven send it happy dew,
Earth lend it sap anew;
Gaily to burgeon, and broadly to grow,
While every Highland glen
Sends our shout back agen,
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,
Blooming at Beltane, *** in winter to fade;
When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain,
The more shall Clan Alpine exult in her shade.
Moored on the rifted rock,
Proof to the tempest's shock,
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;
Menteith and Breadalbane, then
Echo his praise agen,
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!

Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin,
And Banochar's groans to our slogan replied:
Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin,
And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side.
Widow and Saxon maid,
Long shall lament our raid,
Think of Glen-Alpine with fear and with woe;
Lennox and Leven-glen
Shake when they hear agen,
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands!
Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green pine!
O! that the rosebud that graces yon islands,
Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!
O that some seedling gem
Worthy such noble stem,
Honoured and blessed in their shadow might grow!
Loud should Clan Alpine then
Ring from her deepmost glen,
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!

CANTO THIRD - THE GATHERING (Part II)
The heath this night must be my bed,
The bracken curtain for my head,
My lullaby the warder's tread,
Far, far from love and thee, Mary
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,
My couch may be my bloody plaid,
My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid!
It will not waken me, Mary!
I may not, dare not, fancy now
The grief that clouds thy lovely brow;
I dare not think upon thy vow,
And all it promised me, Mary.
No fond regret must Norman know;
When bursts Clan Alpine on the foe,
His heart must be like bended bow,
His foot like arrow free, Mary.
A time will come with feeling fraught!
For, if I fall in battle fought,
Thy hapless lover's dying thought
Shall be a thought on thee, Mary
And if returned from conquered foes,
How blithely will the evening close,
How sweet the linnet sing repose
To my young bride and me, Mary.

CANTO SIXTH - THE GUARD ROOM (Part II) - LAMENT
"And art thou cold and lowly laid,
Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid,
Breadalbane's boast, Clan Alpine's shade!
For thee shall none a requiem say?
For thee, who loved the minstrel's lay,
For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay,
The shelter of her exiled line,
E'en in this prison-house of thine,
I'll wail for Alpine's honoured pine!

"What groans shall yonder valleys fill!
What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill!
What tears of burning rage shall thrill,
When mourns thy tribe thy battles done,
Thy fall before the race was won,
Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun!
There breathes not clansman of thy line,
But would have given his life for thine!
But, woe for Alpine's honoured pine!

"Sad was thy lot on mortal stage!
The captive thrush may brook the cage,
The prisoned eagle dies for rage.
Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain!
And, when its notes awake again,
Even she, so long beloved in vain,
Shall with my harp her voice combine,
And mix her woe and tears with mine,
To wail Clan Alpine's honoured pine!"

The Mother

Author: Gwendolyn Brooks

Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,
The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,
The singers and workers that never handled the air.
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the sucking-thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.

I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed
children.
I have contracted. I have eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches,
and your deaths,
If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.
Though why should I whine,
Whine that the crime was other than mine?--
Since anyhow you are dead.
Or rather, or instead,
You were never made.
But that too, I am afraid,
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were born, you had body, you died.
It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.

Believe me, I loved you all.
Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you
All.

The New Poetry Handbook

Author: Mark Strand

1 If a man understands a poem,
he shall have troubles.

2 If a man lives with a poem,
he shall die lonely.

3 If a man lives with two poems,
he shall be unfaithful to one.

4 If a man conceives of a poem,
he shall have one less child.

5 If a man conceives of two poems,
he shall have two children less.

6 If a man wears a crown on his head as he writes,
he shall be found out.

7 If a man wears no crown on his head as he writes,
he shall deceive no one but himself.

8 If a man gets angry at a poem,
he shall be scorned by men.

9 If a man continues to be angry at a poem,
he shall be scorned by women.

10 If a man publicly denounces poetry,
his shoes will fill with urine.

11 If a man gives up poetry for power,
he shall have lots of power.

12 If a man brags about his poems,
he shall be loved by fools.

13 If a man brags about his poems and loves fools,
he shall write no more.

14 If a man craves attention because of his poems,
he shall be like a jackass in moonlight.

15 If a man writes a poem and praises the poem of a fellow,
he shall have a beautiful mistress.

16 If a man writes a poem and praises the poem of a fellow overly,
he shall drive his mistress away.

17 If a man claims the poem of another,
his heart shall double in size.

18 If a man lets his poems go naked,
he shall fear death.

19 If a man fears death,
he shall be saved by his poems.

20 If a man does not fear death,
he may or may not be saved by his poems.

21 If a man finishes a poem,
he shall bathe in the blank wake of his passion
and be kissed by white paper.

The Poor Ghost

Author: Christina Rossetti

"Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me,
With your golden hair all fallen below your knee,
And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea,
And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?"

"From the other world I come back to you,
My locks are uncurled with dripping drenching dew.
You know the old, whilst I know the new:
But tomorrow you shall know this too."

"Oh not tomorrow into the dark, I pray;
Oh not tomorrow, too soon to go away:
Here I feel warm and well-content and gay:
Give me another year, another day."

"Am I so changed in a day and a night
That mine own only love shrinks from me with fright,
Is fain to turn away to left or right
And cover up his eyes from the sight?"

"Indeed I loved you, my chosen friend,
I loved you for life, but life has an end;
Thro' sickness I was ready to tend:
But death mars all, which we cannot mend.

"Indeed I loved you; I love you yet
If you will stay where your bed is set,
Where I have planted a violet
Which the wind waves, which the dew makes wet."

"Life is gone, then love too is gone,
It was a reed that I leant upon:
Never doubt 1 will leave you alone
And not wake you rattling bone with bone.

"I go home alone to my bed,
Dug deep at the foot and deep at the head,
Roofed in with a load of lead,
Warm enough for the forgotten dead.

"But why did your tears soak thro' the clay,
And why did your sobs wake me where I lay?
I was away, far enough away:
Let me sleep now till the Judgment Day."

The Raven

Author: Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened wide the door;
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;
'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never - nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Author: Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Part I

It is an ancient mariner
And he stoppeth one of three.
--"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stoppest thou me?

The bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
Mayst hear the merry din."

He holds him with his skinny hand,
"There was a ship," quoth he.
"Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!"
Eftsoons his hand dropped he.

He holds him with his glittering eye--
The wedding-guest stood still,
And listens like a three-years' child:
The mariner hath his will.

The wedding-guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed mariner.

"The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.

The sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon--"
The wedding-guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.

The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The wedding-guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed mariner.

"And now the storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong;
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.

With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled.

Listen, stranger! Mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice mast-high came floating by,
As green as emerald.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!

At length did cross an albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God's name.

It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through!

And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners' hollo!

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white moon-shine."

"God save thee, ancient mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!--
Why lookst thou so?" "With my crossbow
I shot the albatross.

Part II

The sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners' hollo!

And I had done an hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!

Nor dim nor red, like an angel's head,
The glorious sun uprist:
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist.
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deeps did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.

And some in dreams assured were
Of the spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.

And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

Ah! wel-a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the albatross
About my neck was hung.

Part III

There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! A weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.

At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drouth all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.

See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!

The western wave was all aflame.
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the sun.

And straight the sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon grate he peered
With broad and burning face.

Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the sun,
Like restless gossameres?

Are those her ribs through which the sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that woman all her crew?
Is that a Death? and are there two?
Is Death that woman's mate?

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The nightmare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.

The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
'The game is done! I've won! I've won!'
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre bark.

We listened and looked sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My lifeblood seemed to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white;
From the sails the dews did drip--
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The horned moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

One after one, by the star-dogged moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.

Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.

Their souls did from their bodies fly--
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whizz of my crossbow!"

Part IV
"I fear thee, ancient mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.

I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown."--
"Fear not, fear not, thou wedding-guest!
This body dropped not down.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.

I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gushed,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,
Till the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.

An orphan's curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.

The moving moon went up the sky,
And nowhere did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside--

Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread;
But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
The charmed water burnt alway
A still and awful red.

Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watched the water snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.

O happy living things! No tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.

The selfsame moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.

Part V

Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary-Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from heaven,
That slid into my soul.

The silly buckets on the deck,
That had so long remained,
I dreamt that they were filled with dew;
And when I awoke, it rained.

My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.

I moved, and could not feel my limbs:
I was so light--almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blessed ghost.

And soon I heard a roaring wind:
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sere.

The upper air bursts into life!
And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
To and fro they were hurried about!
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.

And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge;
And the rain poured down from one black cloud;
The moon was at its edge.

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.

The loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the moon
The dead men gave a groan.

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools--
We were a ghastly crew.

The body of my brother's son
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me."

"I fear thee, ancient mariner!"
"Be calm, thou wedding-guest!
'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blessed.

For when it dawned--they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the skylark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!

And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel's song,
That makes the heavens be mute.

It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

Till noon we silently sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.

Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
The spirit slid: and it was he
That made the ship to go.
The sails at noon left off their tune,
And the ship stood still also.

The sun, right up above the mast,
Had fixed her to the ocean:
But in a minute she 'gan stir,
With a short uneasy motion--
Backwards and forwards half her length
With a short uneasy motion.

Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound:
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.

How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.

'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man?
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low
The harmless albatross.

The spirit who bideth by himself
In the land of mist and snow,
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.'

The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honeydew:
Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.'

Part VI

FIRST VOICE

'But tell me, tell me! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing--
What makes that ship drive on so fast?
What is the ocean doing?'

SECOND VOICE

'Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the moon is cast--

If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.'

FIRST VOICE

'But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?'

SECOND VOICE

'The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.

Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!
Or we shall be belated:
For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the mariner's trance is abated.'

I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;
The dead men stood together.

All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.

And now this spell was snapped: once more
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen--

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring--
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze--
On me alone it blew.

O dream of joy! is this indeed
The lighthouse top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own country?

We drifted o'er the harbour bar,
And I with sobs did pray--
O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway!

The harbour bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the moon.

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.

And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.

A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck--
O Christ! what saw I there!

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph man,
On every corse there stood.

This seraph band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly sight!
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light;

This seraph band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart--
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.

But soon I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the pilot's cheer;
My head was turned perforce away
And I saw a boat appear.

The pilot and the pilot's boy,
I heard them coming fast:
Dear Lord in heaven! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.

I saw a third--I heard his voice:
It is the hermit good!
He singeth loud his godly hymns
That he makes in the wood.
He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
The albatross's blood.

Part VII

This hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with mariners
That come from a far country.

He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve--
He hath a cushion plump:
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak stump.

The skiff boat neared: I heard them talk,
'Why, this is strange, I trow!
Where are those lights so many and fair,
That signal made but now?'

'Strange, by my faith!' the hermit said--
'And they answered not our cheer!
The planks look warped! and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere!
I never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were

Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
My forest-brook along;
When the ivy tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf's young.'

'Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look,'
The pilot made reply,
'I am a-feared'--'Push on, push on!'
Said the hermit cheerily.

The boat came closer to the ship,
But I nor spake nor stirred;
The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.

Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dread:
It reached the ship, it split the bay;
The ship went down like lead.

Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote
Like one that hath been seven days drowned
My body lay afloat;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the pilot's boat.

Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.

I moved my lips--the pilot shrieked
And fell down in a fit;
The holy hermit raised his eyes,
And prayed where he did sit.

I took the oars: the pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.
'Ha! ha!' quoth he, 'full plain I see,
The devil knows how to row.'

And now, all in my own country,
I stood on the firm land!
The hermit stepped forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.

'Oh shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'
The hermit crossed his brow.
'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say--
What manner of man art thou?'

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woeful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
The moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.

What loud uproar bursts from that door!
The wedding-guests are there:
But in the garden-bower the bride
And bridemaids singing are:
And hark the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer!

O wedding-guest! This soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.

Oh sweeter than the marriage feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!--

To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay!

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou wedding-guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."

The mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone: and now the wedding-guest
Turned from the bridegroom's door.

He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.

The Road Not Taken

Author: Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The Waste Land

Author: T. S. Eliot

"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis
vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent:
Sibylla ti theleis; respondebat illa: apothanein thelo."

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
"They called me the hyacinth girl."
––Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed' und leer das Meer.
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.
Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying "Stetson!
"You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
"That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
"Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
"Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
"Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
"Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
"You! hypocrite lecteur! - mon semblable, - mon frere!"
II. A GAME OF CHESS
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass
Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
From which a golden Cupidon peeped out
(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
Reflecting light upon the table as
The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
From satin cases poured in rich profusion;
In vials of ivory and coloured glass
Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
Unguent, powdered, or liquid - troubled, confused
And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
That freshened from the window, these ascended
In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
Flung their smoke into the laquearia,
Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
Huge sea-wood fed with copper
Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,
In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.
Above the antique mantel was displayed
As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene
The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king
So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale
Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
"Jug Jug" to dirty ears.
And other withered stumps of time
Were told upon the walls; staring forms
Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
Footsteps shuffled on the stair.
Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair
Spread out in fiery points
Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.
"My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
"Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
"What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
"I never know what you are thinking. Think."
I think we are in rats' alley
Where the dead men lost their bones.
"What is that noise?"
The wind under the door.
"What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"
Nothing again nothing.
"Do
"You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
"Nothing?"
I remember
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
"Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"
But
O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag -
It's so elegant
So intelligent
"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"
I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
"With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?
"What shall we ever do?"
The hot water at ten.
And if it rains, a closed car at four.
And we shall play a game of chess,
Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said -
I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself,
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.
And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,
He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,
And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.
Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said.
Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.
Others can pick and choose if you can't.
But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling.
You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.
(And her only thirty-one.)
I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,
It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.
(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.)
The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same.
You are a proper fool, I said.
Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,
What you get married for if you don't want children?
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot -
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.
Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.
Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.
III. THE FIRE SERMON
The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf
Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.
And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;
Departed, have left no addresses.
By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . .
Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
But at my back in a cold blast I hear
The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.
A rat crept softly through the vegetation
Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
While I was fishing in the dull canal
On a winter evening round behind the gashouse
Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
And on the king my father's death before him.
White bodies naked on the low damp ground
And bones cast in a little low dry garret,
Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.
But at my back from time to time I hear
The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring
Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.
O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter
And on her daughter
They wash their feet in soda water
Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!
Twit twit twit
Jug jug jug jug jug jug
So rudely forc'd.
Tereu
Unreal City
Under the brown fog of a winter noon
Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants
C.i.f. London: documents at sight,
Asked me in demotic French
To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.
At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,
Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives
Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,
The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
Out of the window perilously spread
Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,
On the divan are piled (at night her bed)
Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.
I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs
Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest -
I too awaited the expected guest.
He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
One of the low on whom assurance sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
Endeavours to engage her in caresses
Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
Exploring hands encounter no defence;
His vanity requires no response,
And makes a welcome of indifference.
(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
Bestows one final patronising kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .
She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her departed lover;
Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over."
When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.
"This music crept by me upon the waters"
And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
O City city, I can sometimes hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
The river sweats
Oil and tar
The barges drift
With the turning tide
Red sails
Wide
To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
The barges wash
Drifting logs
Down Greenwich reach
Past the Isle of Dogs.
Weialala leia
Wallala leialala
Elizabeth and Leicester
Beating oars
The stern was formed
A gilded shell
Red and gold
The brisk swell
Rippled both shores
Southwest wind
Carried down stream
The peal of bells
White towers
Weialala leia
Wallala leialala
"Trams and dusty trees.
Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew
Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."
"My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
Under my feet. After the event
He wept. He promised 'a new start'.
I made no comment. What should I resent?"
"On Margate Sands.
I can connect
Nothing with nothing.
The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
My people humble people who expect
Nothing."
la la
To Carthage then I came
Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest
burning
IV. DEATH BY WATER
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
And the profit and loss.
A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.
V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID
After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience
Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water
Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
- But who is that on the other side of you?
What is that sound high in the air
Murmur of maternal lamentation
Who are those hooded hordes swarming
Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
Ringed by the flat horizon only
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
Falling towers
Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
Vienna London
Unreal
A woman drew her long black hair out tight
And fiddled whisper music on those strings
And bats with baby faces in the violet light
Whistled, and beat their wings
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.
In this decayed hole among the mountains
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.
It has no windows, and the door swings,
Dry bones can harm no one.
Only a cock stood on the rooftree
Co co rico co co rico
In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
Bringing rain
Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
Waited for rain, while the black clouds
Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
The jungle crouched, humped in silence.
Then spoke the thunder
DA
Datta: what have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed
Which is not to be found in our obituaries
Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
In our empty rooms
DA
Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
DA
Damyata: The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands
I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?
London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina
Quando fiam ceu chelidon - O swallow swallow
Le Prince d'Aquitaine a la tour abolie
These fragments I have shored against my ruins
Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.
Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
Shantih shantih shantih

There is another sky

Author: Emily Dickinson

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!

Those Winter Sundays

Author: Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early
And put his clothes on in the blueback cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

Thy Days Are Done

Author: Lord Byron

Thy days are done, thy fame begun;
Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son,
The slaughter of his sword!
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored!

Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death!
The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath:
Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!

Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!
Thy fall, the theme of choral song
From virgin voices pour'd!
To weep would do thy glory wrong:
Thou shalt not be deplored.

To A Mouse

Author: Robert Burns

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
What makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell -
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me;
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects dreaer!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

To My Wife - With A Copy Of My Poems

Author: Oscar Wilde

I can write no stately proem
As a prelude to my lay;
From a poet to a poem
I would dare to say.

For if of these fallen petals
One to you seem fair,
Love will waft it till it settles
On your hair.

And when wind and winter harden
All the loveless land,
It will whisper of the garden,
You will understand.

To You

Author: Walt Whitman

LET us twain walk aside from the rest;
Now we are together privately, do you discard ceremony,
Come! vouchsafe to me what has yet been vouchsafed to none—Tell me the whole story,
Tell me what you would not tell your brother, wife, husband, or physician.

Touched by An Angel

Author: Maya Angelou

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

Two In The Campagna

Author: Robert Browning

I.
I wonder do you feel to-day
As I have felt since, hand in hand,
We sat down on the grass, to stray
In spirit better through the land,
This morn of Rome and May?

II.
For me, I touched a thought, I know,
Has tantalized me many times,
(Like turns of thread the spiders throw
Mocking across our path) for rhymes
To catch at and let go.

III.
Help me to hold it! First it left
The yellowing fennel, run to seed
There, branching from the brickwork's cleft,
Some old tomb's ruin: yonder weed
Took up the floating wet,

IV.
Where one small orange cup amassed
Five beetles,--blind and green they grope
Among the honey-meal: and last,
Everywhere on the grassy slope
I traced it.

Walking Around

Author: Pablo Neruda

It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie
houses
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes.

The smell of barbershops makes me break into hoarse
sobs.
The only thing I want is to lie still like stones or wool.
The only thing I want is to see no more stores, no gardens,
no more goods, no spectacles, no elevators.

It so happens that I am sick of my feet and my nails
and my hair and my shadow.
It so happens I am sick of being a man.

Still it would be marvelous
to terrify a law clerk with a cut lily,
or kill a nun with a blow on the ear.
It would be great
to go through the streets with a green knife
letting out yells until I died of the cold.

I don't want to go on being a root in the dark,
insecure, stretched out, shivering with sleep,
going on down, into the moist guts of the earth,
taking in and thinking, eating every day.

I don't want so much misery.
I don't want to go on as a root and a tomb,
alone under the ground, a warehouse with corpses,
half frozen, dying of grief.

That's why Monday, when it sees me coming
with my convict face, blazes up like gasoline,
and it howls on its way like a wounded wheel,
and leaves tracks full of warm blood leading toward the
night.

And it pushes me into certain corners, into some moist
houses,
into hospitals where the bones fly out the window,
into shoeshops that smell like vinegar,
and certain streets hideous as cracks in the skin.

There are sulphur-colored birds, and hideous intestines
hanging over the doors of houses that I hate,
and there are false teeth forgotten in a coffeepot,
there are mirrors
that ought to have wept from shame and terror,
there are umbrellas everywhere, and venoms, and umbilical
cords.

I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes,
my rage, forgetting everything,
I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic
shops,
and courtyards with washing hanging from the line:
underwear, towels and shirts from which slow
dirty tears are falling.

What Do Women Want?

Author: Kim Addonizio

I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap,
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what's underneath. I want to walk down
the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store
with all those keys glittering in the window,
past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old
donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers
slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly,
hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders.
I want to walk like I'm the only
woman on earth and I can have my pick.
I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm
your worst fears about me,
to show you how little I care about you
or anything except what
I want. When I find it, I'll pull that garment
from its hanger like I'm choosing a body
to carry me into this world, through
the birth-cries and the love-cries too,
and I'll wear it like bones, like skin,
it'll be the goddamned
dress they bury me in.

Where the Sidewalk Ends

Author: Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

100 best books of all time part 1 - a review

2014-09-07T12:53:00.001-07:00

This article list and discuss the best 100 books of all time in the world. These books are a must read for any aspiring intellectual or the reading hobbyist out there. I believe that reading at least half of these books in a life time will have great impact on a person's life. These writers have made both the name and fame for years and centuries.

They have been acclaimed and respected as the top writers of all time.

The World Library contributed to this list as planned by 100 writers from different countries, compiled and arranged in 2002 by the Norwegian Book Club. This list endeavors to mirror world literature, with books from all cultures, and time periods.

Each author had to pick out his or her own list of 10 books. The books elect by this method associate degrees listed here aren't graded or categorized in any way; With the exception of Don Quixote that was given the excellence "best piece of writing ever written." the subsequent list organizes the works alphabetically by authors.

Fyodor Dostoevsky is the only author with the foremost books on the list, with four. Shakespeare, Kafka are the authors with 3 books on the list.

Eleven of the books enclosed on the list are written by ladies, 85 written by men and 4 have unknown authors. This breakdown is analogous to different lists, like LE Monde's a hundred Books of the Century, that was voted for by seventeen thousand individuals from the final public and contains twelve books by ladies.

Twenty-six of the 100 balloting writers had English as their tongue,which can be an element within the list having such a lot of books written in English. Again, this development was visible in LE Monde's list, with forty nine French books.

List of the 100 Best Books of All Time

title	author	year
A Doll's House	Henrik Ibsen	1879
A Madman's Diary	Lu Xun	1918
Absalom, Absalom!	William Faulkner	1936
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn	Mark Twain	1884
Aeneid	Virgil	29–19 BCE
Anna Karenina	Leo Tolstoy	1877
Beloved	Toni Morrison	1987
Berlin Alexanderplatz	Alfred Döblin	1929
Blindness	José Saramago	1995
Book of Job	Unknown	6th – 4th century BCE
Bostan	Saadi	1257
Buddenbrooks	Thomas Mann	1901
Children of Gebelawi	Naguib Mahfouz	1959
Confessions of Zeno	Italo Svevo	1923
Crime and Punishment	Fyodor Dostoevsky	1866
Dead Souls	Nikolai Gogol	1842
Don Quixote	Miguel de Cervantes	1605 (part 1), 1615 (part 2)
Epic of Gilgamesh	Unknown	18th – 17th century BCE
Essays	Michel de Montaigne	1595
Fairy tales	Hans Christian Andersen	1835–37
Faust	Johann Wolfgang von Goethe	1832
Ficciones	Jorge Luis Borges	1944–86
Gargantua and Pantagrue l	François Rabelais	1532–34
Great Expectations	Charles Dickens	1861
Gulliver's Travels	Jonathan Swift	1726
Gypsy Ballads	Federico García Lorca	1928
Hamlet	William Shakespeare	1603
History	Elsa Morante	1974
Hunger	Knut Hamsun	1890
Iliad	Homer	760–710 BCE
In Search of Lost Time	Marcel Proust	1913–27
Independent People	Halldór Laxness	1934–35
Invisible Man	Ralph Ellison	1952
Jacques the Fatalist	Denis Diderot	1796
Journey to the End of the Night	Louis-Ferdinand Céline	1932
King Lear	William Shakespeare	1608
Le Père Goriot	Honoré de Balzac	1835
Leaves of Grass	Walt Whitman	1855
Lolita	Vladimir Nabokov	1955
Love in the Time of Cholera	Gabriel García Márquez	1985
Madame Bovary	Gustave Flaubert	1857
Mahabharata	Vyasa	9th century BCE – 5th century BCE
Masnavi	Rumi	1258–73
Medea	Euripides	431 BCE
Memoirs of Hadrian	Marguerite Yourcenar	1951
Metamorphoses	Ovid	1st century CE
Middlemarch	George Eliot	1871
Midnight's Children	Salman Rushdie	1981
Moby-Dick	Herman Melville	1851
Molloy, Malone Dies, The Unnamable, a trilogy	Samuel Beckett	1951–53
Mrs Dalloway	Virginia Woolf	1925
Nineteen Eighty-Four	George Orwell	1949
Njál's Saga	Unknown	13th century
Nostromo	Joseph Conrad	1904
Odyssey	Homer	8th century BCE
Oedipus the King	Sophocles	430 BCE
One Hundred Years of Solitude	Gabriel García Márquez	1967
One Thousand and One Nights	Unknown	700–1500
Othello	William Shakespeare	1609
Pedro Páramo	Juan Rulfo	1955
Pippi Longstocking	Astrid Lindgren	1945
Poems	Paul Celan	1952
Poems	Giacomo Leopardi	1818
Pride and Prejudice	Jane Austen	1813
Ramayana	Valmiki	5th century BCE - 4th century BCE
Season of Migration to the North	Tayeb Salih	1966
Sentimental Education	Gustave Flaubert	1869
Shakuntala	Kālidāsa	1st century BCE – 4th century CE
Sons and Lovers	D. H. Lawrence	1913
Stories	Anton Chekhov	1886
Stories	Franz Kafka	1924
Tales	Edgar Allan Poe	19th century
The Book of Disquiet	Fernando Pessoa	1928
The Brothers Karamazov	Fyodor Dostoevsky	1880
The Canterbury Tales	Geoffrey Chaucer	14th century
The Castle	Franz Kafka	1926
The Death of Ivan Ilyich	Leo Tolstoy	1886
The Decameron	Giovanni Boccaccio	1349–53
The Devil to Pay in the Backlands	João Guimarães Rosa	1956
The Divine Comedy	Dante Alighieri	1308–1321
The Golden Notebook	Doris Lessing	1962
The Idiot	Fyodor Dostoevsky	1869
The Magic Mountain	Thomas Mann	1924
The Man Without Qualities	Robert Musil	1930–32
The Old Man and the Sea	Ernest Hemingway	1952
The Possessed	Fyodor Dostoevsky	1872
The Red and the Black	Stendhal	1830
The Sound and the Fury	William Faulkner	1929
The Sound of the Mountain	Yasunari Kawabata	1954
The Stranger	Albert Camus	1942
The Tale of Genji	Murasaki Shikibu	11th century
The Tin Drum	Günter Grass	1959
The Trial	Franz Kafka	1925
Things Fall Apart	Chinua Achebe	1958
To the Lighthouse	Virginia Woolf	1927
Tristram Shandy	Laurence Sterne	1760
Ulysses	James Joyce	1922
War and Peace	Leo Tolstoy	1865–1869
Wuthering Heights	Emily Brontë	1847
Zorba the Greek	Nikos Kazantzakis	1946

A Doll's House

A Doll's House (Norwegian: Et dukkehjem; additionally translated as A Doll House) originally a three-act play in prose by henrik ibsen. It premiered at the Royal Theatre in Kobenhavn, Denmark, on twenty one Gregorian calendar month 1879, having been printed earlier that month.

The play essential for its critical angle toward nineteenth century wedding norms. It aroused nice conflict at the time, because it concludes with the protagonist, Nora, effort her husband and youngsters as a result of she desires to find herself.

Playwright was impressed by the assumption that "a lady can not be herself in fashionable society," since it's "an completely male society, with laws created by men and with prosecutors and judges UN agency assess female conduct from a masculine posture.

Its ideas also can be seen as having a wider application: archangel Meyer argued that the play's theme isn't women's rights, however rather "the would like of each individual to seek out out the sort of person he or she very is and to try to become that person. during a speech given to the

In 2006, the centennial of Ibsen's death, A Doll's House control the excellence of being the world's most performed play for that year.UNESCO has inscribed Ibsen's signed manuscripts of A Doll's House on the Memory of the globe Register in 2001, in recognition of their historical worth. Checkout price with more reviews

A Madman's Diary

"A Madman's Diary" or diary of a madam was revealed in 1918 by lu Xun, among the best writers in 20th-century Chinese literature. This story is one among the primary and most important trendy works written in vernacular Chinese and would become a cornerstone of the New Culture Movement. it's the primary story in decision to Arms, a set of short stories by lu Xun.

The story was typically cited as "China's 1st trendy short story". This book is chosen mutually of The hundred Best Books of All Time.

The "madman" sees "cannibalism" each in his family and therefore the village around him, and he then finds pattern within the Confucian classics that had long been attributable with a humanistic concern for the mutual obligations of society, and so for the prevalence of Confucian civilization. The story was scan as associate ironic attack on ancient Chinese culture and a necessitate a brand new Culture.

Synopsis

The story presents itself as diary entries (in vernacular Chinese) of a lunatic who, in line with the preface, written in classical Chinese, has currently been cured of his psychosis.

Despite the brother's apparent real concern, the storyteller still regards him as massive a threat as any unknown. By then he's convinced that his late sister had been devoured by his brother, which he himself might have inadvertently tasted her flesh.

The story ends with the illustrious line: "Save the children"

Checkout Price and more reviews

Absalom, Absalom!

Absalom, Absalom! is written as a Southern Gothic novel by the yankee author Faulkner, was initially revealed in 1936. happening before, during, and when the civil war was active, it's a story regarding 3 families of the yankee South, with a spotlight on the lifetime of Thomas Sutpen.

Absalom, Absalom! details the increase and fall of Thomas Sutpen, a Caucasian born into poorness in western Virginia who involves Mississippi with the complementary aims of gaining wealth and turning into a strong family patriarch. The story is told entirely in flashbacks narrated principally by Quentin Compson to his friend at university, Shreve, who often contributes his own suggestions and surmises.

The narration of Rosa Coldfield, and Quentin's father and grandad, are enclosed and re-interpreted by Shreve and Quentin, with the full events of the story evolution in non-chronological order and sometimes with differing details.

The reader additionally later learns of Sutpen's childhood. it's this episode that sets into motion Thomas' arrange to begin a dynasty.

Henry came back to the estate to die. 3 months later, once Rosa returns with medical facilitate for Henry, Clytie mistakes them for enforcement and starts a hearth that consumes the plantation and kills Henry and herself. the sole remaining Sutpen is Jim Bond, Charles Bon's black grandchild, a young man with severe mental handicaps, who remains on Sutpen's Hundred.
Checkout price and read more reviews

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (or, in additional recent editions, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn) may be a novel by writer, initial printed within the uk in Dec 1884 and within the u. s. in Gregorian calendar month 1885.

Normally named among the nice yankee Novels, the work is among the primary in major yankee literature to be written throughout in vernacular English, characterized by native color regionalism. it's told within the person by Huckleberry "Huck" Finn, an addict of Tom Sawyer and verbalizer of 2 alternative pair novels (Tom Sawyer Abroad and Tom Sawyer, Detective). it's a right away sequel to The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

The book is noted for its colourful description of individuals and places on the Mississippi River. Set in a very Southern nonmodern society that had ceased to exist regarding twenty years before the work was printed, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is AN usually scalding caustic remark on entrenched attitudes, significantly racism.

Towelling explains however he's placed below the guardianship of the Widow Stephen Arnold Douglas, who, at the side of her tight sister, Miss Watson, try to civilize him and teach him faith. Finding civilized life confining, his spirits square measure raised somewhat once Tom Sawyer helps him to flee one night past Miss Watson's slave Jim, to satisfy up with Tom's gang of self-proclaimed "robbers."

Even as the gang's activities begin to bore toweling, he's suddenly interrupted by the reappearance of his unambitious father, "Pap", AN abusive alcoholic. Knowing that Pap would solely pay the cash on alcohol, toweling is flourishing in preventing Pap from exploit his fortune; but, Pap gains legal custody of toweling and leaves city with him.
Checkout price and more reviews

Aeneid

The epic poem could be a Latin poem, written by Publius Vergilius Maro between twenty nine and nineteen before Christ, that tells the legendary story of Aeneas, a Trojan United Nations agency cosmopolitan to Italia, wherever he became the ascendent of the Romans.

it's composed of nine,896 lines in metrical foot verse line. the primary six of the poem's twelve books tell the story of Aeneas's wanderings from Troy to Italia, and also the poem's half tells of the Trojans' ultimately victorious war upon the Latins, underneath whose name Aeneas and his Trojan followers square measure destined to be subsumed.

The hero Aeneas was already famous to Hellenic legend and story, having been a personality within the epic poem, composed within the eighth century before Christ.

Publius Vergilius Maro took the disconnected tales of Aeneas's wanderings, his imprecise association with the inspiration of Rome and a personage of no fastened characteristics aside from a scrupulous pietas, and intentional this into a compelling start story or national epic that directly tied Rome to the legends of Troy, explained the Punic wars, canonised ancient Roman virtues and legitimized the Julio-Claudian family line as descendants of the founders, heroes and gods of Rome and Troy.

The epic poem will be divided into 2 halves supported the disparate subject material of Books 1–6 (Aeneas's journey to Lazio in Italy) and Books 7–12 (the war in Latium).

These 2 halves square measure usually thought to be reflective Virgil's ambition to rival Homer by treating each the Odyssey's wandering theme and also the Iliad's warfare themes. This is, however, a rough correspondence, the restrictions of that ought to be borne in mind

Checkout price and more review

I will be updating with reviews of the rest of the other 100 best books of all time. Subscribe to this blog at the right side and will alert you when the other reviews are ready. Thank you for time.