Found 5,120 results for "Man in literature"
by Alexandre Dumas
SINCE Aramis's singular transformation into a confessor of the order, Baisemeaux was no longer the same man.
by Agatha Christie
Everybody has been at me, right and left, to write this story from the great (represented by Lord Nasby) to the small (r...
by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
The suburb of Saffron Park lay on the sunset side of London, as red and ragged as a cloud of sunset.
by H. G. Wells
THE stranger came early in February, one wintry day, through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the ...
by Graham Greene
'THAT nigger going down the street,'said Dr Hasselbacher standing in the Wonder Bar, 'he reminds me of you, Mr Wormold.'
by Ernest Hemingway
Érase un viejo que solia ir de pesca solo en su bote en el Gulf Stream, y desde hace ya ochenta y cuatro dias no pescaba...
by Thomas Paine
AMONG the incivilities by which nations or individuals provoke and irritate each other, Mr. Burke's pamphlet on the Fren...
by Agatha Christie
IT was Miss Lemon, Poirot's efficient secretary, who took the telephone call.
by James Joyce, James Joyce
Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was comi...
by Primo Levi
I WAS captured by the Fascist Militia on 13 December 1943.
by Franz Kafka
As Karl Rossmann, a poor boy of sixteen who had been packed off to America by his parents because a servant girl had sed...
by Solomon Northup
Having been born a freeman, and for more than thirty years enjoyed the blessings of liberty in a free State-and having a...
by H. G. Wells
on February the 1st, 1887, the Lady Vain was lost by collision with a derelict when about the latitude 1° S. and longitu...
by Wilkie Collins, William Collins
THIS is the story of what a Woman's patience can denture, and what a Man's resolution can achieve.
by Eleanor Hodgman Porter, Porter
Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hurriedly this June morning.
by Joseph Conrad
The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and was at rest.
by D. H. Lawrence
Ursula and Gudrun Brangwen sat one morning in the window-bay of their father's house in Beldover, working and talking.
by Herman Melville
AT sunrise on a first of April,* there appeared, suddenly as Manco Capac at the lake Titicaca,* a man in creamcolours, a...