Found 526 results for "Brook, Donald."
by Nathaniel Hawthorne
A THRONG of bearded men, in sad-colored garments and gray, steeple-crowned hats intermixed with women, some wearing hood...
by Bram Stoker
3 May. Bistritz. - Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at...
by Joseph Conrad
The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and was at rest.
by Lucy Maud Montgomery
MRS. RACHEL LYNDE lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladie...
by W. E. B. Du Bois
En este libro subyacen muchas cuestiones que, estudiadas con paciencia, pueden mostrar el extraño significado de ser neg...
by William Shakespeare
1.1 King Lear, intending to divide his power and kingdom among his three daughters, demands public professions of their ...
by Geoffrey Chaucer, John E. Cunningham
Whan that April with his showres soote
by Euripides
For Greeks of the fifth century BCE there is very little biographical information that can be relied upon.
by William Shakespeare
THIS play, indisputably one of the earliest complete productions of Shakespeare's mind, was first printed in the folio o...
by Clement Clarke Moore
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
by Honoré de Balzac
Madame Vauquer, formerly Mademoiselle de Confians, is now an old woman.
by William Shakespeare
[Enter two Sentinels first, Francisco, who paces up and down at his post; then Bernardo, who approaches him.]
by William Shakespeare
Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.
by William Shakespeare
1. When reading verse, note the appropriate phrasing and intonation.
by William Shakespeare
Antonio. In sooth I know not why I am so sad.
by Stephen King
The terror, which would not end for another twenty-eight years-if it ever did end-began, so far as I know or can tell, w...
by Stephen King
Hapscomb's Texaco sat on Number 93 just north of Arnette, a pissant four-street burg about 110 miles from Houston.
by Henry Fielding
AN author ought to consider himself, not as a gentleman who gives a private or eleemosynary treat, but rather as one who...