Literary Collections
- American 84
- Ancient, Classical & Medieval 14
- Asian 1
- Australian & Oceanian 1
- Canadian 55
- Continental European 121
- English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh 179
- Essays 161
- General 24
- Letters 46
- Middle Eastern 1
Literary Collections Books
Sort by:
by:
William Beckford
INTRODUCTION William Beckford, born in 1759, the year before the accession of King George the Third, was the son of an Alderman who became twice Lord Mayor of London. His family, originally of Gloucestershire, had thriven by the plantations in Jamaica; and his father, sent to school in England, and forming a school friendship at Westminster with Lord Mansfield, began the world in this country as a...
more...
by:
Gail Hamilton
PART I Once there was a great noise in our house,—a thumping and battering and grating. It was my own self dragging my big trunk down from the garret. I did it myself because I wanted it done. If I had said, "Halicarnassus, will you fetch my trunk down?" he would have asked me what trunk? and what did I want of it? and would not the other one be better? and couldn't I wait till after...
more...
by:
Thomas Carlyle
I. Emerson to Carlyle Boston, Massachusetts, 14 May, 1884 My Dear Sir,—There are some purposes we delay long to execute simply because we have them more at heart than others, and such an one has been for many weeks, I may say months, my design of writing you an epistle. Some chance wind of Fame blew your name to me, perhaps two years ago, as the author of papers which I had already distinguished (as...
more...
SECTION I (Aranyaka Parva) Om! Having bowed down to Narayana, and Nara the foremost of male beings, and the goddess Saraswati also, must the word Jaya be uttered. Janamejaya said, "O thou foremost of regenerate ones, deceitfully defeated at dice by the sons of Dhritarashtra and their counsellors, incensed by those wicked ones that thus brought about a fierce animosity, and addressed in language...
more...
1 Om! Having bowed down unto Narayana, and unto that most exalted of male beings, Nara, and unto the goddess Sarasvati also, must the word Jaya be uttered. Vaishampayana said, "After Drona had been slain, O monarch, the royal warriors (of the Kaurava army) headed by Duryodhana, with hearts filled with great anxiety, all repaired to Drona's son. Lamenting the loss of Drona, and deprived of...
more...
by:
Mark Twain
Observe, I do not mean to suggest that the custom of lying has suffered any decay or interruption—no, for the Lie, as a Virtue, A Principle, is eternal; the Lie, as a recreation, a solace, a refuge in time of need, the fourth Grace, the tenth Muse, man's best and surest friend, is immortal, and cannot perish from the earth while this club remains. My complaint simply concerns the decay of the...
more...
by:
Saki
THE TOYS OF PEACE “Harvey,” said Eleanor Bope, handing her brother a cutting from a London morning paper of the 19th of March, “just read this about children’s toys, please; it exactly carries out some of our ideas about influence and upbringing.” “In the view of the National Peace Council,” ran the extract, “there are grave objections to presenting our boys with regiments of fighting...
more...
by:
John Wilson
MAY-DAY. Art thou beautiful, as of old, O wild, moorland, sylvan, and pastoral Parish! the Paradise in which our spirit dwelt beneath the glorious dawning of life—can it be, beloved world of boyhood, that thou art indeed beautiful as of old? Though round and round thy boundaries in half an hour could fly the flapping dove—though the martens, wheeling to and fro that ivied and wall-flowered ruin of...
more...
by:
Ralph Bergengren
THE PERFECT GENTLEMAN Somewhere in the back of every man's mind there dwells a strange wistful desire to be thought a Perfect Gentleman. And this is much to his credit, for the Perfect Gentleman, as thus wistfully contemplated, is a high ideal of human behavior, although, in the narrower but honest admiration of many, he is also a Perfect Ass. Thus, indeed, he comes down the centuries—a sort of...
more...
by:
Bret Harte
CHAPTER I. Where the San Leandro turnpike stretches its dusty, hot, and interminable length along the valley, at a point where the heat and dust have become intolerable, the monotonous expanse of wild oats on either side illimitable, and the distant horizon apparently remoter than ever, it suddenly slips between a stunted thicket or hedge of "scrub oaks," which until that moment had been...
more...