Fiction
- Action & Adventure 180
 - Biographical 15
 - Christian 59
 - Classics
 - Coming of Age 5
 - Contemporary Women 3
 - Erotica 8
 - Espionage/Intrigue 12
 - Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology 236
 - Family Life 169
 - Fantasy 117
 - Gay 1
 - General 596
 - Ghost 32
 - Historical 808
 - Horror 43
 - Humorous 159
 - Jewish 25
 - Legal 4
 - Medical 22
 - Mystery & Detective 315
 - Political 49
 - Psychological 41
 - Religious 64
 - Romance 158
 - Sagas 11
 - Science Fiction 730
 - Sea Stories 113
 - Short Stories (single author) 537
 - Sports 10
 - Suspense 1
 - Technological 8
 - Thrillers 2
 - Urban Life 31
 - Visionary & Metaphysical 1
 - War & Military 173
 - Westerns 199
 
Classics Books
    Sort by:
    
                by: 
                                Kenneth Grahame                                
            
        
                                 PROLOGUE: THE OLYMPIANSLOOKING back to those days of old, ere the gate shut to 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...
                                        more...
                                                
        
                                 THE EXODUS In the Calle Las Gabias—one of those by-streets of Lisbon below St.Catherine—there occurred one New Year a little event in theSynagogue there worth a mention in this history of Richard, Lord ofthe Sea. It was Kol Nidrè, eve of the Day of Atonement, and the little Beth- El, sweltering in a dingy air, was transacting the long-drawn liturgy, when, behind the curtain where the women sat, an...
                                        more...
                                                
        
                                 ÉPÎTRE DÉDICATOIRE 17 Août, 1905. MON CHER DUJARDIN, Il se trouve que je suis ÐÑ  Paris en train de corriger mes épreuves au moment où vous donnez les dernières retouches au manuscrit de 'La Source du Fleuve Chrétien,' un beau titre—si beau que je n'ai pu m'empêcher de le 'chipper' pour le livre de Ralph Elles, un personnage de mon roman qui ne parait...
                                        more...
                                                
        
                                 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AN ELEGY High on his Patmos of the Southern SeasOur northern dreamer sleeps,Strange stars above him, and above his graveStrange leaves and wings their tropic splendours wave,While, far beneath, mile after shimmering mile,The great Pacific, with its faery deeps,Smiles all day long its silken secret smile. Son of a race nomadic, finding stillIts home in regions furthest from its...
                                        more...
                                                
        
                by: 
                                Vernon Lee                                
            
        
                                 I. Real and Ideal—these are the handy terms, admiring or disapproving, which criticism claps with random facility on to every imaginable school. This artist or group of artists goes in for the real—the upright, noble, trumpery, filthy real; that other artist or group of artists seeks after the ideal—the ideal which may mean sublimity or platitude. We summon every living artist to state whether he...
                                        more...
                                                
        
                by: 
                                Andre Norton                                
            
        
                                 THE RALESTONES COME HOME "Once upon a time two brave princes and a beautiful princess set out to make their fortunes—" began the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy by the roadster. "Royalty is out of fashion," corrected Ricky Ralestone somewhat indifferently. "Can't you do better than that?" She gave her small, pert hat an exasperated tweak which brought the unoffending...
                                        more...
                                                
        
                by: 
                                Roy Norton                                
            
        
                                 CHAPTER I If Nature is infallible, there should be some philosophic or eugenic professor arise and explain why she made such a grievous error in the personal appearance, vocal qualities, and general gestures of the learned judge, astute politician and hopeful statesman, Hon. J. Woodworth-Granger and Mr. James Gollop, perigrinating drummer for a chocolate house. Either the Honorable Judge should have...
                                        more...
                                                
        
                                 Mrs. Lander went to a hotel in New York where she had been in the habit of staying with her husband, on their way South or North. The clerk knew her, and shook hands with her across the register, and said she could have her old rooms if she wanted them; the bell-boy who took up their hand-baggage recalled himself to her; the elevator-boy welcomed her with a smile of remembrance. Since she was already...
                                        more...
                                                
        
                                 CHAPTER I. THE ARTICLED PUPIL. 'Where is Miss Palliser?' inquired Miss Pew, in that awful voice of hers, at which the class-room trembled, as at unexpected thunder. A murmur ran along the desks, from girl to girl, and then some one, near that end of the long room which was sacred to Miss Pew and her lieutenants, said that Miss Palliser was not in the class-room. 'I think she is taking...
                                        more...
                                                
        
                by: 
                                Robert Hillyer                                
            
        
                                 BOOK I A MISCELLANY I - LA MARE DES FEES The leaves rain down upon the forest pond,An elfin tarn green-shadowed in the fern;Nine yews ensomber the wet bank, beyondThe autumn branches of the beeches burnWith yellow flame and red amid the green,And patches of the darkening sky between. This is an ancient country; in this woodThe Druids raised their sacrificial stones;Here the vast timeless silences still...
                                        more...