Crónica de una muerte anunciada

by Gabriel García Márquez, Francis Salvery

ON THE DAY THEY WERE GOING TO KILL him, Santiago Nasar got up at five-thirty in the morning to wait for the boat the bis...

George's Marvelous Medicine

by Roald Dahl

'I'm going shopping in the village,' George's mother said to George on Saturday morning.

The House at Pooh Corner

by A. A. Milne

DIE QUODAM, CUM Urso Puo nihil aliud agendum esset, decrevit aliquid agere, Porcelli domum igitur abiit, quid ageret Por...

Milton's Poems

by John Milton

Paradise Lost. The Verse of "Paradise Lost." "The measure is English Heroic Verse without Rime," as that of Homer in Gre...

The Illustrated Man

by Ray Bradbury

"GEORGE, I wish you'd look at the nursery."

The Amber Spyglass

by Philip Pullman

In a valley shaded with rhododendrons, close to the snow line, where a stream milky with meltwater splashed and where do...

Brideshead Revisited

by Evelyn Waugh

When I reached 'C' Company lines, which were at the top of the hill, I paused and looked back at the camp, just coming i...

Cato

by Joseph Addison, Christine Dunn Henderson

THE dawn is over-caft, the morning low'rs,

The Kreutzer sonata and other stories

by Лев Толстой

Travellers left and entered our car at every stopping of the train.

The complete poetical works

by Robert Burns

MY loved, my honoured, much respected friend!

El filibusterismo

by José Rizal

One December morning the steamship TABO was arduously sailing upstream through the winding course of the Pasig, carrying...

The Labours of Hercules

by Agatha Christie

"ANYTHING of interest this morning, Miss Lemon?"

Skeleton crew

by Stephen King

This is what happened.

Make Way for Ducklings

by Robert McCloskey, David Crommett

El señor Pato y su señora buscaban un lugar para vivir.

The French Lieutenant's Woman

by John Fowles

AN easterly is the most disagreeable wind in Lyme Bay- Lyme Bay being that largest bite from the underside of England's ...

Eldest

by Christopher Paolini

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

by Robert M. Pirsig

I can see by my watch, without taking my hand from the left grip of the cycle, that it is eight-thirty in the morning.

Один день Ивана Денисовича

by Александр Исаевич Солженицын

At five o'clock that morning reveille was sounded, as usual, by the blows of a hammer on a length of rail hanging up nea...

Secrets of the Morning

by V.C. Andrews

We filed out of the plane slowly.

Passing

by Nella Larsen, Matthew Hodgson

It was the last letter in Irene Redfield's little pile of morning mail.