Found 884 results for "Voyages and travels in fiction"
by Jonathan Swift
MY FATHER HAD a small estate in Nottinghamshire, 1 was the third of five sons.
by Hugh Lofting
ALL that I have written so far about Doctor Dolittle I heard long after it happened from those who had known him- indeed...
by C. S. Lewis
THERE WAS A BOY CALLED EUSTACE CLARENCE Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.
by Robert Louis Stevenson
I will begin the story of my adventures with a certain morning early in the month of June, the year of grace 1751, when ...
by Virginia Woolf
As the streets that lead from the Strand to the Embankment are very narrow, it is better not to walk down them arm-in-ar...
by C. S. Lewis
IT WAS A DULL AUTUMN DAY AND JILL Pole was crying behind the gym.
by Jules Verne
Looking back to all that has occurred to me since that eventful day, I am scarcely able to believe in the reality of my ...
by H. G. Wells
H. G. Wells was an astonishingly versatile and prolific writer.
by Lewis Carroll
The book in your hands is the most accessible of all literary masterpieces, and one of the strangest.
by Jerome Klapka Jérôme
THERE were four of us - George, and William Samuel Harris, and myself, and Montmorency.
by Kenneth Grahame
The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring cleaning his little home.
by Henry David Thoreau
When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in ...
by Mark Twain
"CAMELOT-CAMELOT," said I to myself.
by Robert Louis Stevenson
SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Doctor Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars ab...
by Daniel Defoe, J. J. Grandville
I was born in the year 1632 in the city of York, of a good family, though not of that country, my father being a foreign...
by Mark Twain
My brother had just been appointed Secretary of Nevada Territory-an office of such majesty that is concentrated in itsel...
by Jules Verne
MR. PHILEAS FOGG LIVED, IN 1872, AT NO. 7, SAVILLE Row, Burlington Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814.
by Joseph Conrad
The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and was at rest.