Risultati letto da "Gary Appleton" in Tutte le categorie

"The Shopman" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. If I were really opulent, I would not go into a shop at all-I would have a private secretary. If I were really determined, Euphemia would do these things. As it is, I find buying things in a shop the most exasperating of all the many trying duties of life.

The Whisperer in Darkness is a 26,000-word novella by American writer H. P. Lovecraft. Written February-September 1930, it was first published in Weird Tales, August 1931. Similar to The Colour Out of Space (1927), it is a blend of horror and science fiction. Although it makes numerous references to the Cthulhu Mythos, the story is not a central part of the mythos, but reflects a shift in Lovecraft's writing at this time towards science fiction. The story also introduces the Mi-go, an extraterrestrial race of fungoid creatures.

"From an Observatory" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. It will be some time yet before the rising of the moon. Looking down from the observatory one can see the pathways across the park dotted out in yellow lamps, each with a fringe of dim green; and further off, hot and bright, is the tracery of the illuminated streets, through which the people go to and fro. Save for an occasional stirring, or a passing voice speaking out of the dimness beneath me, the night is very still.

Here it is; Alexandre Dumas' thrilling final chapter in the D'Artagnan saga. Thirty years after their last adventure, D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers are reunited in a daring plot to replace the King of France with a look-alike, long kept hidden in the Bastille, then suffer the true king's revenge, and meet their ultimate destinies.

"The Book of Curses" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. Professor Gargoyle, you must understand, has travelled to and fro in the earth, culling flowers of speech: a kind of recording angel he is, but without any sentimental tears. To be plain, he studies swearing.

"The Unnamable" is a horror short story by American author H. P. Lovecraft. It was written in September 1923, first published in the July 1925 issue of Weird Tales, and first collected in Beyond the Wall of Sleep. Carter, a weird fiction writer, who is likely the Randolph Carter who features in some of Lovecraft's other tales such as "The Statement of Randolph Carter", meets with his close friend, Joel Manton, in a cemetery near an old, dilapidated house on Meadow Hill in the town of Arkham, Massachusetts.

"The House of Di Sorno: A Manuscript Found in a Box" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. And the box, Euphemia's. Brutally raided it was by an insensate husband, eager for a tie and too unreasonably impatient to wait an hour or so until she could get home and find it for him.

"Of a Book Unwritten" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. Accomplished literature is all very well in its way, no doubt, but much more fascinating to the contemplative man are the books that have not been written. These latter are no trouble to hold; there are no pages to turn over.

"The Poet and the Emporium" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. "I am beginning life," he said, with a sigh. "Great Heavens! I have spent a day-a day!-in a shop. Three bedroom suites and a sideboard are among the unanticipated pledges of our affection. Have you lithia? For a man of twelve limited editions this has been a terrible day.

"Through a Microscope: Some Moral Reflections" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. This dabbler person has recently disposed of his camera and obtained a microscope-a short, complacent-looking implement it is, of brass-and he goes about everywhere now with little glass bottles in his pocket, ready to jump upon any stray polly-woggle he may find, and hale it home and pry into its affairs.

Certain Personal Matters is an 1897 collection of essays selected by H. G. Wells from among the many short essays and ephemeral pieces he had written since 1893. The book consists of thirty-nine pieces ranging from about eight hundred to two thousand words in length. The essays in Certain Personal Matters rely on stock characters that Wells developed in his early days as a writer. This vein was inspired by his reading of When a Man's Single, an 1888 novel by J.M.

"On the Choice of a Wife" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. Wife-choosing is an unending business. This sounds immoral, but what I mean will be clearer in the context. People have lived-innumerable people-exhausted experience, and yet other people keep on coming to hand, none the wiser, none the better.

"Of Conversation: An Apology" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. I must admit that in conversation I am not a brilliant success. Partly, indeed, that may be owing to the assiduity with which my aunt suppressed my early essays in the art: "Children," she said, "should be seen but not heard," and incontinently rapped my knuckles.

"The Coal-Scuttle: A Study in Domestic Aesthetics" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. Euphemia, who loves to have home dainty and delightful, would have no coals if she could dispense with them, much less a coal-scuttle. Indeed, it would seem she would have no fireplace at all, if she had her will.

"The Extinction of Man" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. It is part of the excessive egotism of the human animal that the bare idea of its extinction seems incredible to it. "A world without us!" it says, as a heady young Cephalaspis might have said it in the old Silurian sea.

"The Parkes Museum" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. By way of jest, my morning daily paper constantly includes in its menu of "To-day" the Parkes Museum, Margaret Street, adding, seductively, "free"; and no doubt many a festive Jonas Chuzzlewit has preened himself for a sight-seeing, and all unaware of the multitudes of Margaret Streets-surely only Charlottes of that ilk are more abundant-has started forth, he and his feminine, to find this Parkes Museum.

"In a Literary Household" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. In the literary household of fiction and the drama, things are usually in a distressing enough condition. The husband, as you know, has a hacking cough, and the wife a dying baby, and they write in the intervals of these cares among the litter of the breakfast things.

"Thoughts on Cheapness and My Aunt Charlotte" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. The world mends. In my younger days people believed in mahogany; some of my readers will remember it - a heavy, shining substance, having a singularly close resemblance to raw liver, exceedingly heavy to move, and esteemed on one or other count the noblest of all woods.

"The Veteran Cricketer" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. My old cricketer was seized, he says, some score of years ago now, by sciatica, clutched indeed about the loins thereby, and forcibly withdrawn from the practice of the art; since when a certain predisposition to a corpulent habit has lacked its natural check of exercise, and a broadness almost Dutch has won upon him.

"How I Died" by H. G. Wells is a short essay. H. G. Wells once different, humorous social satire and ironic. It is now ten years ago since I received my death warrant. All these ten years I have been, and I am, and shall be, I hope, for years yet, a Doomed Man. It only occurred to me yesterday that I had been dodging-missing rather than dodging-the common enemy for such a space of time.