Elképeszt? lélektani thriller – a Hátsó ablak találkozása a Holtodiglannal. Rachel ingázó, minden reggel felszáll ugyanarra a vonatra. Tudja, hogy minden alkalommal várakozni szoktak ugyanannál a fénysorompónál, ahonnan egy sor hátsó udvarra nyílik rálátás. Már-már kezdi úgy érezni, hogy ismeri az egyik ház lakóit. Jess és Jason, így nevezi ?ket. A pár élete t?kéletesnek t?nik, és Rachel sóvárogva gondol a boldogságukra. ?s aztán lát valami megd?bbent?t. Csak egyetlen pillanatig, ahogy a vonat tovahalad, de ennyi elég. A pillanat mindent megváltoztat. Rachel immár részese az életüknek, melyet eddig csak messzir?l szemlélt.? Meglátják; sokkal t?bb ?, mint egy lány a vonaton. Paula Hawkins els? thrillere azonnal a bestsellerlisták els? helyezettje lett. Harmincnégy országban megjelent, vitathatatlan, hogy az elmúlt évek legnagyobb sikerk?nyvét tartja kezében az olvasó.

While I was amusing myself by watching the titmice, Harry, who had rambled on a little way, came running back to ask me what the funny thing could be that he had found. It was a mole that had been caught in a trap, and was dangling in the air with a swarm of bees around. I told Harry that the moles are blind, or nearly so, and that they live under the ground, and do great good to the farmers by eating the slugs and other things that destroy the corn; but that they turn up such great mounds of earth when making their tunnels, that the farmers are often glad to get rid of them, and therefore set traps to kill them. In the next field we came to, the young wheat had grown up higher than my knees, and Harry was greatly pleased at running down the furrows and making the blades of corn bend before him. Presently he stopped and peeped through an opening, whence he discovered a whole covey of partridges, the two old birds and seven young ones; they all rose with a whirring noise, and flew into the field we had just left. Soon after the partridges had flown away, Harry was delighted to hear the well-known voice of the cuckoo; it sounded so near us that we both started at the first voice, and we soon found out where the cuckoo was. Like a lazy tyrant, instead of making a house for himself, the cuckoo takes the first little bird's nest he can find, and turns the poor occupant away. When we reached the tree where the cuckoo was, we saw it sitting on a small nest throwing out the eggs of a poor little bird, who was screaming in anger at the intruder...

A magyar turanizmus jellegzetesen magyar és teljességgel elhallgatott eszmeáramlat: akik benne voltak, igyekeztek még a nyomait is eltüntetni. Pedig a magyar k?zvéleményt a 19. század eleje óta izgatta a magyarság keleti eredete és nyugati mintak?vetése k?zti ellentmondás. Vissza kell-e fordulnunk keletre? Létrej?het-e a ?turáni népek” ?sszefogása? Van-e a magyaroknak küldetésük Keleten? Vagy éppen Nyugaton? Száz évvel ezel?tt magyar expedíciók rótták Anatólia, a Balkán és Dél-Oroszország útjait, a magyar kormány hatalmas ?sszegeket áldozott, hogy keleti ?szt?ndíjasokat hozzon Magyarországra, magyar üzletemberek próbáltak piacot találni a K?zel-Keleten, és a turanizmus divatjának k?sz?nhet? az els? külf?ldi magyar intézet megnyitása is. A két világháború k?z?tt az eszmeáramlat számos befolyásos értelmiségit kísértett meg, majd 1945 után elhallgattatták. Ennek ellenére túlélte az államszocializmus éveit, és újra teret nyert a rendszerváltozás után. Ez a k?nyv nemcsak a turanizmus, hanem a Keletr?l való gondolkodás és politikai konzekvenciáinak t?rténete is. Izgalmas, másfél évszázados utazás Tibett?l Argentínáig, Tartutól Isztambulig. Felbukkan benne a turáni egyistenhív? rádióm?szerész, a feministából lett vércsoportkutató f?ldbirtokosleány, a monoklis múzeumalapító, aki egyszerre találta ki a világbékét és a l?vészárokásó gépet, néhány pénzhamisító, illetve a mérn?k, aki megállapította a magyar–maori rokonságot. Turanista emlékek k?z?tt élünk – csak nem tudunk róluk. Ablonczy Balázs (1974) t?rténész, az ELTE BTK oktatója és az MTA BTK T?rténettudományi Intézetének tudományos f?munkatársa. Doktori címét 2004-ben szerezte, tanított és kutatott Londonban, Párizsban, Berlinben és az Egyesült ?llamokbeli Bloomingtonban. 2011 és 2015 k?z?tt a Párizsi Magyar Intézet igazgatója volt. Jelenleg az MTA Lendület-pályázatán támogatott Trianon 100 kutatócsoport vezet?je, Budapesten él.

It was the she-wolf who had first caught the sound of men’s voices and the whining of the sled-dogs; and it was the she-wolf who was first to spring away from the cornered man in his circle of dying flame. The pack had been loath to forego the kill it had hunted down, and it lingered for several minutes, making sure of the sounds, and then it, too, sprang away on the trail made by the she-wolf. Running at the forefront of the pack was a large grey wolf—one of its several leaders. It was he who directed the pack’s course on the heels of the she-wolf. It was he who snarled warningly at the younger members of the pack or slashed at them with his fangs when they ambitiously tried to pass him. And it was he who increased the pace when he sighted the she-wolf, now trotting slowly across the snow. She dropped in alongside by him, as though it were her appointed position, and took the pace of the pack. He did not snarl at her, nor show his teeth, when any leap of hers chanced to put her in advance of him. On the contrary, he seemed kindly disposed toward her—too kindly to suit her, for he was prone to run near to her, and when he ran too near it was she who snarled and showed her teeth. Nor was she above slashing his shoulder sharply on occasion. At such times he betrayed no anger. He merely sprang to the side and ran stiffly ahead for several awkward leaps, in carriage and conduct resembling an abashed country swain. This was his one trouble in the running of the pack; but she had other troubles. On her other side ran a gaunt old wolf, grizzled and marked with the scars of many battles. He ran always on her right side. The fact that he had but one eye, and that the left eye, might account for this. He, also, was addicted to crowding her, to veering toward her till his scarred muzzle touched her body, or shoulder, or neck. As with the running mate on the left, she repelled these attentions with her teeth; but when both bestowed their attentions at the same time she was roughly jostled, being compelled, with quick snaps to either side, to drive both lovers away and at the same time to maintain her forward leap with the pack and see the way of her feet before her. At such times her running mates flashed their teeth and growled threateningly across at each other. They might have fought, but even wooing and its rivalry waited upon the more pressing hunger-need of the pack. After each repulse, when the old wolf sheered abruptly away from the sharp-toothed object of his desire, he shouldered against a young three-year-old that ran on his blind right side. This young wolf had attained his full size; and, considering the weak and famished condition of the pack, he possessed more than the average vigour and spirit. Nevertheless, he ran with his head even with the shoulder of his one-eyed elder. When he ventured to run abreast of the older wolf (which was seldom), a snarl and a snap sent him back even with the shoulder again. Sometimes, however, he dropped cautiously and slowly behind and edged in between the old leader and the she-wolf. This was doubly resented, even triply resented. When she snarled her displeasure, the old leader would whirl on the three-year-old. Sometimes she whirled with him. And sometimes the young leader on the left whirled, too. At such times, confronted by three sets of savage teeth, the young wolf stopped precipitately, throwing himself back on his haunches, with fore-legs stiff, mouth menacing, and mane bristling. This confusion in the front of the moving pack always caused confusion in the rear. The wolves behind collided with the young wolf and expressed their displeasure by administering sharp nips on his hind-legs and flanks. He was laying up trouble for himself, for lack of food and short tempers went together; but with the boundless faith of youth he persisted in repeating the manoeuvre every little while, though it never succeeded in gaining anything for him but discomfiture.

Holmes decodes a warning from Porlock, an informant against arch-criminal Moriarty, for "Douglas" resident five years at "Birlstone". Scotland Yard's MacDonald asks them to investigate a corpse with the same look and circle-in-triangle brand on the forearm as Birlstone owner Douglas. The head was blown off by an American-style sawed-off shotgun. Apparently, an intruder dropped a card with VV341, and left across a shallow moat. Watson observes the bereaved English wife and best male friend in unusually good spirits. When Holmes pretends the moat will be drained, the conspirators retrieve a missing dumb-bell weighting down the visitor's clothes beneath the water. Douglas comes from hiding, to explain he killed the assassin Baldwin in self-defence; the plan was to save him from more attacks by criminal survivors of Vermissa Valley. He hands Dr. Watson the following account. Young McMurdo gains reputation as tough counterfeiter, Freemen Lodge member fleeing murder charges in Chicago. In the Vermissa coal mine area, McGinty rules Scowrers branded by a circle in square, the local Lodge 341 who extort, murder, and exchange vicious deeds with nearby Lodges. Pretty Ettie prefers McMurdo to nasty Baldwin, and wants to flee, but will wait some months. When word comes that Pinkerton sent Edwards, McMurdo gathers ringleaders in one room, and springs his trap on them, surrounded by the law. Although the worst were hanged, after ten years, villains were freed, and chased McMurdo-Edwards-Douglas, despite changes of name, location, and wife. He married Ettie, then she died in California, where he made a fortune. The Valley of Fear, notable for Professor Moriarty's involvement, is set before "The Final Problem", the short story in which Moriarty was introduced. This introduces a logical difficulty, as in "The Final Problem" Dr. Watson has never heard of Moriarty, whereas by the end of The Valley Of Fear he is, or should be, familiar with his name and character. The "Moriarty" element in the story is tied into the fate of the informer in the story. It ties the Molly Maguire background to another event of that period: the murder of James Carey, an informer who was shot on board a ship off the coast of Natal, South Africa in 1883 by Patrick O'Donnell, an Irish republican who had relatives in the Mollies and briefly visited the Pennsylvania coal mining district, supposedly looking for the suspected informer among them.

Valahol ebben a hatalmas, csodálatos szigetvilágban egy kis hajó kereskedik, felh?ket keres, levadássza ?ket, kondenzálja, aztán eladja a vizet. Van egy lány a fedélzeten, akinek szénfekete a haja, gy?ny?r? barna a b?re, és két mély heg fut a szeme alól a szájáig. Az ember azt hinné, a hegt?l kevésbé szép, de nem. S?t még szebbé és titokzatosabbá teszi… Christien világában szinte alig van víz. Nincsenek sem óceánok, sem kontinensek, csak sok ezer leveg?ben lebeg? sziget. Utazni és világot látni csak a legbátrabbak mernek. ?k a felh?vadászok. Alex Shearer Skócia északi részén, Wickben született. Pályáját forgatók?nyvíróként kezdte, majd gyerekk?nyvszerz?ként vált még ismertebbé. Regényeib?l filmek és tévésorozatok készültek. K?nyveit t?bb nyelvre lefordították.

Theodora, a fürge és eleven esz? matróna, bosszúsan tapasztalja, hogy családja elviselhetetlen agyatlanok gyülekezetévé vált. Amikor az ünnepekre végre ?sszetereli az egész civakodó bagázst, sóvárogva gondol gyerekkora szertelen és meghitt karácsonyaira. Mennyire hiányzik az otthon süt?tt-f?z?tt finomságok alatt roskadozó asztal, a pazarlón hóbortos díszítések, a kandalló melletti csodálatos beszélgetések nagyanyja szeretett házvezet?n?jével és bizalmasával, Pearllel. Hova lett mára a szeretet, az ?r?m…és a békesség?De Theodora elhatározza, hogy megismerteti családjával a varázslatos karácsonyt…Mert van valaki, aki ismeri Theodora vágyait, és teli zsebbel, szívében a dél-karolinai partvidék egykori rabszolgáinak varázslatával és annyi józansággal érkezik hozzá, ami elég, hogy a karácsonyt olyan csodává varázsolja, amilyennek lennie kell.Mindek?zben csodálatos recepteket ismerhetünk meg, hiszen a regény a gasztro-irodalom remeke.?Fanyar és tiszteletlen mese…jószív? és nagyon jó kedély?” – Boston Globe

Though flattered by imitators galore Miss Potter's work stands supreme. Her many picture stories should be among the first books owned by children.Cecily Parsley lived in a pen,And brewed good ale for gentlemen; Gentlemen came every day,Till Cecily Parsley ran away.

I hope that some readers may possibly be interested in these little tales of the Napoleonic soldiers to the extent of following them up to the springs from which they flow. The age was rich in military material, some of it the most human and the most picturesque that I have ever read. Setting aside historical works or the biographies of the leaders there is a mass of evidence written by the actual fighting men them-selves, which describes their feelings and their experiences, stated always from the point of view of the particular branch of the service to which they belonged. The Cavalry were particularly happy in their writers of memoirs. Thus De Rocca in his "Memoires sur la guerre des Francais en Espagne" has given the narrative of a Hussar, while De Naylies in his "Memoires sur la guerre d'Espagne" gives the same campaigns from the point of view of the Dragoon. Then we have the "Souvenirs Militaires du Colonel de Gonneville," which treats a series of wars, including that of Spain, as seen from under the steel-brimmed hair-crested helmet of a Cuirassier. Pre-eminent among all these works, and among all military memoirs, are the famous reminiscences of Marbot, which can be obtained in an English form. Marbot was a Chasseur, so again we obtain the Cavalry point of view. Among other books which help one to an understanding of the Napoleonic soldier I would specially recommend "Les Cahiers du Capitaine Coignet," which treat the wars from the point of view of the private of the Guards, and "Les Memoires du Sergeant Bourgoyne," who was a non-commissioned officer in the same corps. The Journal of Sergeant Fricasse and the Recollections of de Fezenac and of de Segur complete the materials from which I have worked in my endeavour to give a true historical and military atmosphere to an imaginary figure. ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE. "I have seen a great many cities, my friends. I would not dare to tell you how many I have entered as a conqueror with eight hundred of my little fighting devils clanking and jingling behind me. The cavalry were in front of the Grande Armee, and the Hussars of Conflans were in front of the cavalry, and I was in front of the Hussars. But of all the cities which we visited Venice is the most ill-built and ridiculous. I can-not imagine how the people who laid it out thought that the cavalry could manoeuvre. It would puzzle Murat or Lassalle to bring a squad-ron into that square of theirs. For this reason we left Kellermann's heavy brigade and also my own Hussars at Padua on the mainland. But Suchet with the infantry held the town, and he had chosen me as his aide-de-camp for that winter, because he was pleased about the affair of the Italian fencing-master at Milan. The fellow was a good swordsman, and it was fortunate for the credit of French arms that it was I who was opposed to him. Besides, he deserved a lesson, for if one does not like a prima donna's singing one can always be silent, but it is intolerable that a public affront should be put upon a pretty woman. So the sympathy was all with me, and after the affair had blown over and the man's widow had been pensioned Suchet chose me as his own galloper, and I followed him to Venice, where I had the strange adventure which I am about to tell you. You have not been to Venice? No, for it is seldom that the French travel. We were great travellers in those days. From Moscow to Cairo we had travelled everywhere, but we went in larger parties than were convenient to those whom we visited, and we carried our passports in our limbers. It will be a bad day for Europe when the French start trav-elling again, for they are slow to leave their homes, but when they have done so no one can say how far they will go if they have a guide like our little man to point out the way. But the great days are gone and the great men are dead, and here am I, the last of them, drinking wine of Suresnes and telling old tales in a cafe.But it is of Venice that I would speak."

Tickets, Please!' was written in the year 1919 by David Herbert Lawrence. This book is one of the most popular novels of David Herbert Lawrence, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.

Володар Пул?тцер?всько? прем??! З дитинства натренований бачити в темряв? тунел?в, Чон До — син начальника табору для сир?т, здатен ? в житт?, що його оточу?, роздивитися б?льше за ?нших. Темрява для нього — це несвобода, це кра?на, де голод ма? смак кв?т?в, де швидка смерть ста? проявом найб?льшо? любов? до р?дних — заради порятунку ?х в?д жаху табор?в, — де держава зам?сть прав для вс?х дару? певн? прив?ле? обраним, називаючи себе найпрогресивн?шою демократ??ю у св?т?. Але й у суц?льному мороц? ? м?сце коханню ? самопожертв?, дружб? ? чест?. Темн?ше за все — перед св?танком... Volodar Pul?tcer?vs'ko? prem??! Z ditinstva natrenovanij bachiti v temrjav? tunel?v, Chon Do — sin nachal'nika taboru dlja sir?t, zdaten ? v zhitt?, shho jogo otochu?, rozdivitisja b?l'she za ?nshih. Temrjava dlja n'ogo — ce nesvoboda, ce kra?na, de golod ma? smak kv?t?v, de shvidka smert' sta? projavom najb?l'sho? ljubov? do r?dnih — zaradi porjatunku ?h v?d zhahu tabor?v, — de derzhava zam?st' prav dlja vs?h daru? pevn? priv?le? obranim, nazivajuchi sebe najprogresivn?shoju demokrat??ju u sv?t?. Ale j u suc?l'nomu moroc? ? m?sce kohannju ? samopozhertv?, druzhb? ? chest?. Temn?she za vse — pered sv?tankom...

Боли в руках, ногах, коленях периодически испытывают многие, а с возрастом болевые ощущения усиливаются. В этой книге представлена подробная информация о заболеваниях, которые становятся причиной неприятных симптомов. Вы вновь ощутите радость от движения без боли! ? Клинические симптомы, диагностика и лечение заболеваний: артрит, остеоартроз, синдром усталых ног, подагра и др. ? Народные методы лечения: настои, отвары, компрессы, ванны ? Лечебная гимнастика, массаж и самомассаж, рефлексо- и парафинотерапия ? Рецепты здорового питания ? Очищение организма и профилактика заболеваний ? ?Скорая помощь? для снятия боли. Boli v rukah, nogah, kolenjah periodicheski ispytyvajut mnogie, a s vozrastom bolevye oshhushhenija usilivajutsja. V jetoj knige predstavlena podrobnaja informacija o zabolevanijah, kotorye stanovjatsja prichinoj neprijatnyh simptomov. Vy vnov' oshhutite radost' ot dvizhenija bez boli! ? Klinicheskie simptomy, diagnostika i lechenie zabolevanij: artrit, osteoartroz, sindrom ustalyh nog, podagra i dr. ? Narodnye metody lechenija: nastoi, otvary, kompressy, vanny ? Lechebnaja gimnastika, massazh i samomassazh, reflekso- i parafinoterapija ? Recepty zdorovogo pitanija ? Ochishhenie organizma i profilaktika zabolevanij ? ?Skoraja pomoshh'? dlja snjatija boli.

Створено спльно з нтернет-ресурсом Мова – ДНК нац За допомогою нфографки показан правила та складн випадки вживання слв в укранськй мов Укранська без суржику, русизмв кальок за допомогою нфографки! Видання з наочними люстрацями та стислими правилами, прикладами вживання корисними статтями. Цю книжку створено з мрю про те, що колись в Укран буде модно знати деклька мов, а говорити укранською. Видання для тих, хто: – сплкуться укранською хоче вдосконалити сво знання; – прагне запобгти помилковому слововживанню; – бажа дзнатися нов фразеологзми й синонми; – намагаться уникнути вживання не властивих укранськй мовнй традиц зворотв висловв. Stvoreno spl'no z nternet-resursom Mova – DNK nac Za dopomogoju nfografki pokazan pravila ta skladn vipadki vzhivannja slv v ukrans'kj mov Ukrans'ka bez surzhiku, rusizmv kal'ok za dopomogoju nfografki! Vidannja z naochnimi ljustracjami ta stislimi pravilami, prikladami vzhivannja korisnimi stattjami. Cju knizhku stvoreno z mrju pro te, shho kolis' v Ukran bude modno znati dekl'ka mov, a govoriti ukrans'koju. Vidannja dlja tih, hto: – splkut'sja ukrans'koju hoche vdoskonaliti svo znannja; – pragne zapobgti pomilkovomu slovovzhivannju; – bazha dznatisja nov frazeologzmi j sinonmi; – namagat'sja uniknuti vzhivannja ne vlastivih ukrans'kj movnj tradic zvorotv vislovv.

Twilight in Italy was written in the year 1916 by David Herbert Lawrence. This book is one of the most popular novels of David Herbert Lawrence, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.

A?Mózes egy, huszonkett???brahám és Izsák ósz?vetségi t?rténetének modern feldolgozása. Az ?brahámok a Horthy-kort, a második világháborút, a Rákosi-érát megélt és megszenvedett ?rettenetes” szül?k, nagyszül?k. Az Izsákok lázadó fiatalok, akik nem kíváncsiak felmen?ik múltjára, akart-akaratlan áldozatvállalásukra, szenvedéseikre, beteljesületlen szerelmeikre-vágyaikra, elrontott életükre. Nem hajlandók áldozatot hozni istenekért-eszmékért, a maguk útját akarják járni. Egy ?szigetre” vágynak, távol a vénekt?l, ahol együtt és maguk lehetnek. Gál Hugi és ?dám, Bartos Márta és Gyuri – a két testvérpár – csontkockán dobják ki, melyik lánynak kell teherbe esnie a ?nemzet mártírjának” fiától, a naivnak és jámbornak t?n? Miklóstól. Mert ? bizonyára kap majd egy lakást az anyjától nászajándékul. A játék azonban komolyra fordul: Hugi beleszeret Miklósba, és elhatározza: új életet kezd vele. Vajon Miklós is így akarja? Mikor újraolvastam a?Mózest, ugyanazt a késztetést éreztem, mint pár éve?Az ajtó?felelevenítésekor. Akkor elzarándokoltam Szabó Magda házához, hogy megbámulhassam azt a bizonyos ajtót, és ácsingózhassak a kerítés el?tt. A?Mózes?megjelenése után fiatalok tucatjai bukkantak fel a szerz?nél, csak hogy néhány szót válthassanak vele. Megrendülten t?prengek rajta, miféle szív és lélek lakozott ebben a t?rékeny testben, micsoda írói tehetség, hogy életb?lcsességét olyan er?vel tudta szavakba ?nteni, amivel embereket repít ki komfortzónájukból ? pusztán, hogy pár pillanatig megmerítkezhessenek valamiben, amir?l maguk sem tudják, mi, de a k?nyv hatására elementáris vágyként jelentkezik bennük. –?Singer Magdolna

William R. Forstchen trilógiájának harmadik k?tete az Egy másodperccel kés?bb és az Egy évvel kés?bb New York Times bestseller regényeinek nyomán, újból az amerikai nemzet élet-halál küzdelmét tárja elénk. Az áramellátó hálózatot megsemmisít? elektromágneses csapás (EMP) óta a túlél?k k?zel teljes s?tétségben, az éhezés és a terror árnyékában próbálják újjáépíteni egykor virágzó országukat. Az ?njel?lt kormányer?k ellenében aratott gy?zelem után John Matherson és k?z?ssége az EMP-támadás k?vetkeztében elveszett technológiák és a k?zrend helyreállításán munkálkodik, a kormány azonban váratlan bejelentést tesz: fontos régiókat enged át véglegesen a kínai és mexikói megszállóknak. Az alkotmány nincs érvényben t?bbé, a hivatásos hadsereg még bevethet? csapatait pedig a megmaradt államokban dúló bels? lázadások leverésére vezénylik. John váratlanul egykori parancsnokával és legk?zelebbi barátjával, Bob Scales tábornokkal találja szemben magát. Vajon Scales tábornok is aggályok nélkül teljesíti a kormány parancsait vagy az újból egyesített amerikai nemzetért vívott küzdelem kulcsfontosságú alakjává válik? Lehetséges, hogy a szabadságjogokat folyamatosan kurtító és saját szuverenitását áruba bocsátó kormány éppen azt kapja majd, amit?l a legjobban retteg: egy valódi forradalmat?A trilógia els? részét az amerikai Kongresszus folyosóin már megjelenése el?tt úgy emlegették, mint az apokaliptikus thrillert, melyet minden amerikainak el kell olvasnia. William R. Forstchen a magyar k?z?nséget is meggy?zte: "Ilyen érzelmi t?ltetet pedig hasonló zsánerirodalmi m?t?l ritkán kapunk, és pont ezért válhat a k?nyv a m?faj egyik kiemelked? darabjává." - K?nyvesblog.hu ajánlója az Egy másodperccel kés?bb cím? k?nyvr?l "Azt gondolom, minél t?bb emberhez kéne, hogy eljusson ez a – számomra zseniális jelz?t megérdeml? – k?nyv, és nem pusztán azért, hogy tisztában legyünk a potenciális veszélyekkel. Azért is, mert olyan témákról és olyan szinten készteti elgondolkozásra az embert, amelyek alapvet?ek, ugyanakkor más k?rülmények k?z?tt nem biztos, hogy eszünkbe jutnának." - tiz kicsi k?nyv blog ajánlója az Egy másodperccel kés?bb cím? k?nyvr?l

The Wintry Peacock was written in the year 1921 by David Herbert Lawrence. This book is one of the most popular novels of David Herbert Lawrence, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.

Monkey Nuts was written in the year 1922 by David Herbert Lawrence. This book is one of the most popular novels of David Herbert Lawrence, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.

Looking back to those days of old, ere the gate shut behind me, I can see now that to children with a proper equipment of parents these things would have worn a different aspect. But to those whose nearest were aunts and uncles, a special attitude of mind may be allowed. They treated us, indeed, with kindness enough as to the needs of the flesh, but after that with indifference (an indifference, as I recognise, the result of a certain stupidity), and therewith the commonplace conviction that your child is merely animal. At a very early age I remember realising in a quite impersonal and kindly way the existence of that stupidity, and its tremendous influence in the world; while there grew up in me, as in the parallel case of Caliban upon Setebos, a vague sense of a ruling power, wilful and freakish, and prone to the practice of vagaries--"just choosing so:" as, for instance, the giving of authority over us to these hopeless and incapable creatures, when it might far more reasonably have been given to ourselves over them. These elders, our betters by a trick of chance, commanded no respect, but only a certain blend of envy--of their good luck--and pity--for their inability to make use of it. Indeed, it was one of the most hopeless features in their character (when we troubled ourselves to waste a thought on them: which wasn't often) that, having absolute licence to indulge in the pleasures of life, they could get no good of it. They might dabble in the pond all day, hunt the chickens, climb trees in the most uncompromising Sunday clothes; they were free to issue forth and buy gunpowder in the full eye of the sun--free to fire cannons and explode mines on the lawn: yet they never did any one of these things. No irresistible Energy haled them to church o' Sundays; yet they went there regularly of their own accord, though they betrayed no greater delight in the experience than ourselves. On the whole, the existence of these Olympians seemed to be entirely void of interests, even as their movements were confined and slow, and their habits stereotyped and senseless. To anything but appearances they were blind. For them the orchard (a place elf-haunted, wonderful!) simply produced so many apples and cherries: or it didn't, when the failures of Nature were not infrequently ascribed to us. They never set foot within fir-wood or hazel-copse, nor dreamt of the marvels hid therein. The mysterious sources--sources as of old Nile--that fed the duck-pond had no magic for them. They were unaware of Indians, nor recked they anything of bisons or of pirates (with pistols!), though the whole place swarmed with such portents. They cared not about exploring for robbers' caves, nor digging for hidden treasure. Perhaps, indeed, it was one of their best qualities that they spent the greater part of their time stuffily indoors. To be sure, there was an exception in the curate, who would receive unblenching the information that the meadow beyond the orchard was a prairie studded with herds of buffalo, which it was our delight, moccasined and tomahawked, to ride down with those whoops that announce the scenting of blood. He neither laughed nor sneered, as the Olympians would have done; but possessed of a serious idiosyncrasy, he would contribute such lots of valuable suggestion as to the pursuit of this particular sort of big game that, as it seemed to us, his mature age and eminent position could scarce have been attained without a practical knowledge of the creature in its native lair. Then, too, he was always ready to constitute himself a hostile army or a band of marauding Indians on the shortest possible notice: in brief, a distinctly able man, with talents, so far as we could judge, immensely above the majority. I trust he is a bishop by this time,--he had all the necessary qualifications, as we knew.These strange folk had visitors sometimes,--stiff and colourless Olympians like themselves, equally without vital interests and intelligent pursuits: emerging out of the clouds, and passing away again to drag on an aimless existence somewhere out of our ken. Then brute force was pitilessly applied. We were captured, washed, and forced into clean collars: silently submitting, as was our wont, with more contempt than anger. Anon, with unctuous hair and faces stiffened in a conventional grin, we sat and listened to the usual platitudes. How could reasonable people spend their precious time so? That was ever our wonder as we bounded forth at last--to the old clay-pit to make pots, or to hunt bears among the hazels. It was incessant matter for amazement how these Olympians would talk over our heads--during meals, for instance--of this or the other social or political inanity, under the delusion that these pale phantasms of reality were among the importances of life. We illuminati, eating silently, our heads full of plans and conspiracies, could have told them what real life was. We had just left it outside

Fanny And Annie was written in the year 1921 by David Herbert Lawrence. This book is one of the most popular novels of David Herbert Lawrence, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.

Жасмин, двадцатичетырехлетняя красавица-американка, приезжает в Англию на Рождество погостить у родственников. Герцог Харли подарил ей жеребца, и она решает прокатится верхом. Но из-за разыгравшейся метели ее едва не сбивает машина, за рулем которой сидел граф Сомертон. Через некоторое время, волею судьбы, Жасмин опять встретится с графом, который приютит ее в своем замке после падения с лошади… Эта встреча навсегда изменит их жизнь и подарит им настоящую любовь… Zhasmin, dvadcatichetyrehletnjaja krasavica-amerikanka, priezzhaet v Angliju na Rozhdestvo pogostit' u rodstvennikov. Gercog Harli podaril ej zherebca, i ona reshaet prokatitsja verhom. No iz-za razygravshejsja meteli ee edva ne sbivaet mashina, za rulem kotoroj sidel graf Somerton. Cherez nekotoroe vremja, voleju sud'by, Zhasmin opjat' vstretitsja s grafom, kotoryj prijutit ee v svoem zamke posle padenija s loshadi… Jeta vstrecha navsegda izmenit ih zhizn' i podarit im nastojashhuju ljubov'…