Classics Books

THE NEW HOME "Is that the house!" Milly Ridge exclaimed disapprovingly. Her father, a little man, with one knee bent against the unyielding, newly varnished front door, glanced up apprehensively at the figures painted on the glass transom above. In that block of little houses, all exactly alike, he might easily have made a mistake. Reassured he murmured over his... more...

We had the driver let us off in the central district and took a copter-taxi back to Homefield. There's no disgrace about it, of course; we just didn't feel like having all the neighbors see the big skycar with Lydna Project painted on its side, and then having them drop in casually to express what they would call interest and we would know to be curiosity. There are people who boast that... more...

is sleep-drugged mind was slow to respond. He was lying face down, he knew that. And he ought to get up. If he didn't get up he would drown. Something hot and heavy, like a huge hand, was pressing him deeper into the brackish mire. He pondered. Perhaps it were better to drown. For a moment he allowed himself the luxury of the thought, then decided against it. Plenty of time later for drowning.... more...

A WORD OF APOLOGY FOR MY TITLE. Before I begin my story, let me crave my reader's indulgence for a brief word of explanation, for which I know no better form than a parable. There is an Eastern tale—I forget exactly where or by whom told—of a certain poor man, who, being in extreme distress, and sorely puzzled as to how to eke out a livelihood, bethought him to give out that he was a great... more...

THE CHILD, AND WHAT SHE LED ME INTO   was walking at a rapid pace up the avenue one raw, fall evening, when somewhere near the corner of Fifty——Street I was brought to a sudden stand-still by the sound of a child's voice accosting me from the stoop of one of the handsome houses I was then passing. "O sir!" it cried, "please come in. Please come to grandpa. He's sick and... more...

CHAPTER I NEGLECTED RESPONSIBILITIES "Like a prince in his cradle," you say, "with invisible fairies and the innocent peace of childhood over him!" What fairy stood by the cradle of Barbara's Nikolai it would be difficult to say. Out at the tinsmith's, in the little house with the cracked and broken window-panes in the outskirts of the town, there was often a run of visitors,... more...

ellman plucked the last radish out of the can with a pair of dividers. He held it up for Casker to admire, then laid it carefully on the workbench beside the razor. "Hell of a meal for two grown men," Casker said, flopping down in one of the ship's padded crash chairs. "If you'd like to give up your share—" Hellman started to suggest. Casker shook his head quickly. Hellman... more...

PREFACE This selection of "One hundred best books" is made after a different method and with a different purpose from the selections already in existence. Those apparently are designed to stuff the minds of young persons with an accumulation of "standard learning" calculated to alarm and discourage the boldest. The following list is frankly subjective in its choice; being indeed the... more...

PART I LATE SPRINGThe mottled moth at eventideBeats glimmering wings against the pane;The slow, sweet lily opens wide,White in the dusk like some dim stain;The garden dreams on every sideAnd breathes faint scents of rain.Among the flowering stocks they stand:A crimson rose is in his hand. 1 Outside her garden. He waits musing.Herein the dearness of her is;The thirty perfect days of JuneMade one, in... more...

Once upon a planet there was a mighty warlord. The warlord's name was Miotis. Some might think it an odd name, but then it is entirely probable that the people of this planet would think the name of Smith or Jenkovitz odd. Be that as it may, however, the important thing is that Miotis was the name of this warlord, whatever one may feel about his name. Now, Miotis was not just a mighty warrior, he... more...