Found 15,248 results for "clock"
David Copperfield
by Charles Dickens
WHETHER I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by any body else, these pag...
Мастер и Маргарита
by Михаил Афанасьевич Булгаков
Once upon an unusually hot hour of sunset in spring, two gentlemen appeared at Patriarch's Ponds in Moscow.
The Big Sleep
by Raymond Chandler
It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the cle...
The Left Hand of Darkness
by Ursula K. Le Guin
I'll make my report as if I told a story, for I was taught as a child on my homeworld that Truth is a matter of the imag...
Nineteen Eighty-Four
by George Orwell
Era un día frío y luminoso de abril y los relojes estaban dando las trece.
The Jungle Book
by Rudyard Kipling
It was seven o'clock on a warm evening in India's Seeonee hills when Father Wolf woke from his day's rest.
The Thirty-Nine Steps
by John Buchan
I RETURNED from the City about three o'clock on that May afternoon pretty well disgusted with life.
The Seven Dials Mystery
by Agatha Christie
That amiable youth, Jimmy Thesiger, came racing down the big staircase at Chimneys two steps at a time.
The Secret of the Old Clock
by Carolyn Keene
Nancy Drew, an attractive girl of eighteen, was driving home along a country road in her new, dark-blue convertible.
A Raisin in the Sun
by Lorraine Hansberry
The YOUNGER living room would be a comfortable and well-ordered room if it were not for a number of indestructible contr...
The House with a Clock in Its Walls
by John Bellairs
Lewis Barnavelt fidgeted and wiped his sweaty palms on the seat of the bus that was roaring toward New Zebedee.
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...
Native Son
by Richard Wright, Richard Wright - undifferentiated
BRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNG! An alarm clock clanged in the dark and silent room.
Nana
by Émile Zola
At nine o'clock in the evening the body of the house at the Theatres des Varietes was still all but empty.
