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The importance of being earnest: a trivial comedy for serious people By Oscar Wilde

2009-12-06T16:10:00.003+07:00

The play is a satire on 19th century Mayfair society and as the title suggests the play is about the importance of being called Ernest. The play centres around the exploits of Algernon Moncrieff and John Worthing and their prospective fiancés Gwendolen Fairfax and Cecily Cardew. Throw in a governess (Miss Prism), an aunt (Lady Bracknel), butler, manservant and a reverend and you have the recipe for one of the funniest plays ever.

John and Algernon have both told their fiancés they are called Ernest, and this is almost a condition of marriage. The girls discover that Algernon and John are not called Ernest. Algernon asks the reverend to christen him Ernest so that Cecily will agree to marry him. John however discovers that he is Algernons brother and is already called Ernest. The plot is very convoluted and features a handbag quite heavily! This story is very witty and short. It is an interesting comedy that looks at the absurdity of society at the time.

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Treasure Island By Robert Louis Stevenson

2009-12-06T16:01:00.003+07:00

In this retelling of Stevenson's classic story, each spread is structured as a chapter and provides a short story arc within the larger tale. The elements of suspense or triumph that close each chapter compel readers to turn the page for the next piece of the story. However, the graphic storytelling leaves much to be desired, especially in the essential layout and presentation. The pages ... More are comprised of a series of mostly wordless panels, depicting tight close-ups of the characters as their situations are described in captions paraphrasing Stevenson's prose with none of its luster.

When dialogue does appear, it is placed artificially at the top of each panel despite the fact that it is almost universally meant to follow the caption it precedes, creating a dissonant reading experience. Vocabulary is defined in footnotes, and a handful of concluding pages provide some context for Stevenson's life and background on the novel. The volume may well provide young readers with a desired dose of pirates, but this attempt has not bent the format to fit the vintage tale. Try the version adapted and illustrated by Tim Hamilton, instead (Puffin, 2005).—Benjamin Russell, Belmont High School, NH

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Faust: a Tragedy, Part 1 by By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Bayard Taylor

2009-12-05T06:55:00.005+07:00

In Faust, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe builds a dramatic poem around the strengths and weaknesses of a man who under a personalized definition of a hero fails miserably. A hero is someone that humanity models themselves and their actions after, someone who can be revered by the masses as an individual of great morality and strength, a man or woman that never sacrifices his beliefs under adversity. Therefore, through his immoral actions and his unwillingness to respect others rights and privileges, Faust is determined to be a man of un heroic proportions.

It is seen early in the poem, that Faust has very strong beliefs and a tight moral code that is deeply rooted in his quest for knowledge. Sitting in his den, Faust describes his areas of instruction, "I have, alas, studied philosophy, jurisprudence and medicine, too, and, worst of all, theology with keen endeavor, through and through..." It is obvious that through his studies he has valued deep and critical thinking, however with the help of Mephisto, he would disregard his values and pursue the pleasures of the flesh.

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Free: The Call of the Wild By Jack London

2009-12-05T04:45:00.003+07:00

Editorial Review - Cahners Business Information (c) 2002 Gr 7 Up-This Jack London classic is expertly read by Michael Kramer. His firm, yet gentle voice is a perfect choice for the adventurous biographical story of Buck, a very capable dog working the Alaskan wilderness with his many owners. Reading at a fairly quick pace, Kramer keeps listeners from bogging down in the sad or violent sections.

The novel is primarily one of narration, but Kramer alters his voice for the different accents in the men's speech, especially for the French-Canadian; he changes only slightly for the one woman. London's words alone provide the excitement and suspense because Kramer is able to remain dispassionate and uninvolved. There is emotion there, but it is kept under control. Since the track numbers are provided on the CDs for the beginning of each chapter, teachers have the choice of using only portions of the audiobook in the classroom.-Claudia Moore, W.T. Woodson High School, Fairfax, VA

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The Encyclopedia of Free Online Advertising

2008-06-05T11:08:00.000+07:00

Description of "The Encyclopedia of Free Online Advertising":
This valuable, 72-Page eBook is an in-depth review and rating of ALL of the free forms of Online Advertising... All new for 2007, there are many new methods of Traffic Generation that you may not have even heard of yet. Best of all, they are all free!

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Successful Product Sourcing: How to find REAL Wholesale Products YOU can sell online

2008-06-05T10:57:00.000+07:00

Description of "Successful Product Sourcing: How to find REAL Wholesale Products YOU can sell online":
Many people starting an internet business run into issues they do not understand then give up because they do not have the information they need to run an internet business competitively. If you dream of owning a successful online business, you CAN do it. There are a few things you really need to understand, though, and Product sourcing is one of them. This free eBook breaks down all the all the levels of product sourcing and how different methods impact your online business.

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Work from Home: A Complete Guide to Developing a Successful Internet Business from Home

2008-06-05T09:56:00.001+07:00

Description of "Work from Home: A Complete Guide to Developing a Successful Internet Business from Home":
Sign up for the newsletter and get this (and other helpful stuff) for free. This ebook takes you step by step through the process of developing your own Internet business -- from getting your office set up to deciding on what products you should sell, to marketing and promoting -- you will learn it all.

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Guide to Cashing In on Ebay

2008-06-03T09:54:00.000+07:00

Description of "Guide to Cashing In on Ebay":
Tons Of Income Opportunities. What You Need To Know. 5 Easy Steps to Posting Your First Auction. Ebay Sellers Checklist. 10 Steps to Successful Selling on Ebay. How to Think Like an Ebay PowerSeller. Choosing the Right Product. 10 Tips for increasing Your Ebay Response. Tips on Writing your Title. Ebay Description Writing Tips.

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Profit Funnel Wealth

2008-06-03T09:52:00.000+07:00

Description of "Profit Funnel Wealth.":
Ideas For Your Pathway To Building A Buying Customer. The Profit Funnel Plan. Low Ticket Product Ideas. Mid Ticket Product Ideas. High Ticket Product Ideas. Ideal Profit Strategy.

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30 Tips to Maximum Sales Conversions

2008-06-03T06:38:00.002+07:00

Description of "30 Tips to Maximum Sales Conversions":
Making Minimum Chages to Your Sales Page that Delivery Maximum Impact. Copywriting Today. Headline and Sub-Headline. Opening of Your Sales Copy. The Middle Section of Your Sales Copy. Endorsements and Testimonials. Call To Action.

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Internet Entrepreneurial Success

2008-06-03T06:36:00.000+07:00

Description of "Internet Entrepreneurial Success":
Learn The Keys To Internet Success. Why So Many Internet Startups Fail. The Cornerstones of Successful Internet Entrepreneurship. The Key to Continuous Growth and Expansion. The Razor Edge Difference Between Work and Deals.

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Building Influence with Free Membership Sites"

2008-06-03T06:34:00.000+07:00

Description of "Building Influence with Free Membership Sites":
Quickly and Easily Build Your Online Influence with Membership Sites Step by Step. Why Build Free Membership Sites? What You Need Before You Start. Building a Free Membership Site Step by Step. Benefiting and Profiting From Your Free Membership Site.

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Cashing In with Private Label Rights

2008-06-03T06:31:00.000+07:00

Description of "Cashing In with Private Label Rights":
Your Path To PLR Rights. Introduction to PLR. How to Make Money with Private Label Rights. The Pros and Cons. Cashing In with PLR Articles. Private Label Rights Software. Maximum Profits from Private Label Rights.

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Great Expectations - Charles Dickens

2008-06-01T06:17:00.000+07:00

My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.

I give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the authority of his tombstone and my sister - Mrs. Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were like, were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The shape of the letters on my father's, gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair. From the character and turn of the inscription, 'Also Georgiana Wife of the Above,' I drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To five little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine - who gave up trying to get a living, exceedingly early in that universal struggle - I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained that they had all been born on their backs with their hands in their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state of existence.

Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within, as the river wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things, seems to me to have been gained on a memorable raw afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain, that this bleak place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dykes and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond, was the river; and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing, was the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip.

'Hold your noise!' cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from among the graves at the side of the church porch. 'Keep still, you little devil, or I'll cut your throat!'

A fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his leg. A man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A man who had been soaked in water, and smothered in mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, and torn by briars; who limped, and shivered, and glared and growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me by the chin.

'O! Don't cut my throat, sir,' I pleaded in terror. 'Pray don't do it, sir.'

'Tell us your name!' said the man. 'Quick!'

'Pip, sir.'

'Once more,' said the man, staring at me. 'Give it mouth!'

'Pip. Pip, sir.'

'Show us where you live,' said the man. 'Pint out the place!'

I pointed to where our village lay, on the flat in-shore among the alder-trees and pollards, a mile or more from the church.

The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside down, and emptied my pockets. There was nothing in them but a piece of bread. When the church came to itself - for he was so sudden and strong that he made it go head over heels before me, and I saw the steeple under my feet - when the church came to itself, I say, I was seated on a high tombstone, trembling, while he ate the bread ravenously.

'You young dog,' said the man, licking his lips, 'what fat cheeks you ha' got.'

I believe they were fat, though I was at that time undersized for my years, and not strong.

'Darn me if I couldn't eat em,' said the man, with a threatening shake of his head, 'and if I han't half a mind to't!'

I earnestly expressed my hope that he wouldn't, and held tighter to the tombstone on which he had put me; partly, to keep myself upon it; partly, to keep myself from crying.

'Now lookee here!' said the man. 'Where's your mother?'

'There, sir!' said I.

He started, made a short run, and stopped and looked over his shoulder.

Great Expectations

Women in Love

2008-06-01T06:15:00.000+07:00

Ursula and Gudrun Brangwen sat one morning in the window-bay of their father's house in Beldover, working and talking. Ursula was stitching a piece of brightly-coloured embroidery, and Gudrun was drawing upon a board which she held on her knee. They were mostly silent, talking as their thoughts strayed through their minds.

'Ursula,' said Gudrun, 'don't you REALLY WANT to get married?' Ursula laid her embroidery in her lap and looked up. Her face was calm and considerate.

'I don't know,' she replied. 'It depends how you mean.'

Women in Love

Jane Eyre

2008-06-01T06:13:00.000+07:00

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question.

I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.

Jane Eyre

The Lost World

2008-05-30T06:11:00.000+07:00

Mr. Hungerton, her father, really was the most tactless person upon earth, -- a fluffy, feathery, untidy cockatoo of a man, perfectly good-natured, but absolutely centered upon his own silly self. If anything could have driven me from Gladys, it would have been the thought of such a father-in-law. I am convinced that he really believed in his heart that I came round to the Chestnuts three days a week for the pleasure of his company, and very especially to hear his views upon bimetallism, a subject upon which he was by way of being an authority.

The Lost World

Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson

2008-05-30T06:10:00.000+07:00

SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17 and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

Treasure Island

Ulysses - James Joyce

2008-05-30T06:08:00.000+07:00

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:

--Introibo ad altare Dei.

Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:

--Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!

Ulysses

Frankenstein

2008-05-30T06:07:00.000+07:00

You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings. I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assure my dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success of my undertaking.

Frankenstein

A Christmas Carol - By Charles Dickens, 1843

2008-05-30T05:44:00.000+07:00

Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to.

Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don’t know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain. The mention of Marley’s funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet’s Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot — say Saint Paul’s Churchyard for instance — literally to astonish his son’s weak mind.

Scrooge never painted out Old Marley’s name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him.

Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dogdays; and didn’t thaw it one degree at Christmas.

External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn’t know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often ‘came down’ handsomely, and Scrooge never did.

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1984 - By George Orwell, 1949

2008-05-30T05:12:00.000+07:00

The thing that he was about to do was to open a diary. This was not illegal (nothing was illegal, since there were no longer any laws), but if detected it was reasonably certain that it would be punished by death, or at least by twenty-five years in a forced-labour camp. Winston fitted a nib into the penholder and sucked it to get the grease off. The pen was an archaic instrument, seldom used even for signatures, and he had procured one, furtively and with some difficulty, simply because of a feeling that the beautiful creamy paper deserved to be written on with a real nib instead of being scratched with an ink-pencil. Actually he was not used to writing by hand. Apart from very short notes, it was usual to dictate everything into the speak-write which was of course impossible for his present purpose. He dipped the pen into the ink and then faltered for just a second. A tremor had gone through his bowels. To mark the paper was the decisive act. In small clumsy letters he wrote:

April 4th, 1984.

He sat back. A sense of complete helplessness had descended upon him. To begin with, he did not know with any certainty that this was 1984. It must be round about that date, since he was fairly sure that his age was thirty-nine, and he believed that he had been born in 1944 or 1945; but it was never possible nowadays to pin down any date within a year or two.

For whom, it suddenly occurred to him to wonder, was he writing this diary? For the future, for the unborn. His mind hovered for a moment round the doubtful date on the page, and then fetched up with a bump against the Newspeak word DOUBLETHINK. For the first time the magnitude of what he had undertaken came home to him. How could you communicate with the future? It was of its nature impossible. Either the future would resemble the present, in which case it would not listen to him: or it would be different from it, and his predicament would be meaningless.

For some time he sat gazing stupidly at the paper. The telescreen had changed over to strident military music. It was curious that he seemed not merely to have lost the power of expressing himself, but even to have forgotten what it was that he had originally intended to say. For weeks past he had been making ready for this moment, and it had never crossed his mind that anything would be needed except courage. The actual writing would be easy. All he had to do was to transfer to paper the interminable restless monologue that had been running inside his head, literally for years. At this moment, however, even the monologue had dried up. Moreover his varicose ulcer had begun itching unbearably. He dared not scratch it, because if he did so it always became inflamed. The seconds were ticking by. He was conscious of nothing except the blankness of the page in front of him, the itching of the skin above his ankle, the blaring of the music, and a slight booziness caused by the gin.

Suddenly he began writing in sheer panic, only imperfectly aware of what he was setting down. His small but childish handwriting straggled up and down the page, shedding first its capital letters and finally even its full stops:

April 4th, 1984. Last night to the flicks. All war films. One very good one of a ship full of refugees being bombed somewhere in the Mediterranean. Audience much amused by shots of a great huge fat man trying to swim away with a helicopter after him, first you saw him wallowing along in the water like a porpoise, then you saw him through the helicopters gunsights, then he was full of holes and the sea round him turned pink and he sank as suddenly as though the holes had let in the water, audience shouting with laughter when he sank. then you saw a lifeboat full of children with a helicopter hovering over it. there was a middle-aged woman might have been a jewess sitting up in the bow with a little boy about three years old in her arms. little boy screaming with fright and hiding his head between her breasts as if he was trying to burrow right into her and the woman putting her arms round him and comforting him although she was blue with fright herself, all the time covering him up as much as possible as if she thought her arms could keep the bullets off him. then the helicopter planted a 20 kilo bomb in among them terrific flash and the boat went all to matchwood. then there was a wonderful shot of a child’s arm going up up up right up into the air a helicopter with a camera in its nose must have followed it up and there was a lot of applause from the party seats but a woman down in the prole part of the house suddenly started kicking up a fuss and shouting they didnt oughter of showed it not in front of kids they didnt it aint right not in front of kids it aint until the police turned her turned her out i dont suppose anything happened to her nobody cares what the proles say typical prole reaction they never——

Winston stopped writing, partly because he was suffering from cramp. He did not know what had made him pour out this stream of rubbish. But the curious thing was that while he was doing so a totally different memory had clarified itself in his mind, to the point where he almost felt equal to writing it down. It was, he now realized, because of this other incident that he had suddenly decided to come home and begin the diary today.

It had happened that morning at the Ministry, if anything so nebulous could be said to happen.

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The Outline of Science, Vol. 1 (of 4) by J. Arthur Thomson

2008-05-30T04:36:00.000+07:00

Creator : Thomson, J. Arthur
Title: The Outline of Science, Vol. 1 (of 4). A Plain Story Simply Told
Language: English
EText-No.: 20417
Release Date: 2007-01-22
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook.

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7 Steps to Starting a Successful Cleaning Business

2008-05-29T06:29:00.002+07:00

Description of "7 Steps to Starting a Successful Cleaning Business":
Topics covered: Should I do it on my own or should I buy into a franchise? What steps to take, Finding new accounts, How to bid a new account and how much to charge, What to do when a customer complains and Should I hire employees?

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Why & How to Incorporate Your Small Business

2008-05-29T06:26:00.001+07:00

Description of "Why & How to Incorporate Your Small Business":
Whether you sell handmade items at flea markets, or sell Gift Baskets on the Internet, you need to shield yourself against liability and protect your assets. You can do this by Incorporating your business!

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