Résultats lu par "Peter Silverleaf" dans Toutes les catégories

I knew Lord Charles Purefoy in the 1970s, but then so did everyone. I had also known him in the 1960s when we were at school together, and in the same house.

There was a time before the Great War when Petropol was the most fashionable resort in the Crimea. If you arrived by steamer, you would have disembarked onto a stone jetty that extended a long grey arm into the oily smooth waters of the Black Sea.

War and Peace is a literary work mixed with chapters on history and philosophy by the Russian author Leo Tolstoy. It was first published serially, then published in its entirety in 1869. First Epilogue: 1813-20: Seven years had passed. The storm-tossed sea of European history had subsided within its shores and seemed to have become calm. But the mysterious forces that move humanity (mysterious because the laws of their motion are unknown to us) continued to operate.

Three weeks after I had arrived in Nairobi in January 1976 my father wrote to me. I took it to be a sign that he was reconciled to the fact that his only son had decided to join a theatre company in what he called 'the back of beyond'.

War and Peace is a literary work mixed with chapters on history and philosophy by the Russian author Leo Tolstoy. Book 8: 1811-12: After Prince Andrew's engagement to Natásha, Pierre without any apparent cause suddenly felt it impossible to go on living as before. Firmly convinced as he was of the truths revealed to him by his benefactor, and happy as he had been in perfecting his inner man, to which he had devoted himself with such ardor-all the zest of such a life vanished after the engagement of Andrew and Natásha and the death of Joseph Alexéevich.

The Warlord of Mars is a science fantasy novel by American writer Edgar Rice Burroughs, the third of his Barsoom series. Burroughs began writing it in June, 1913, going through five working titles; Yellow Men of Barsoom, The Fighting Prince of Mars, Across Savage Mars, The Prince of Helium, and The War Lord of Mars.

Although not compulsory, it was made clear to me that I was expected to attend the group. I could find no good excuse to avoid going to the first meeting.

Dusk is some way off and I stand at the bar, waiting to be served. I've been here often on my way home from work - It's half-empty on early summer evenings, and the staff are efficient and not averse to passing the time in conversation.

The past doesn't always stay where it should. It is as though somebody, or something, is forever trying to bring it painfully into the present. Flavian Bennett is trying to leave his past behind when he goes to work in his father's bookshop in Paris. But a curious customer, Reginald Hopper, is desperate to resurrect his own murky origins. Hopper believes that a rare and mysterious book, The Dark Return of Time, may be the key to what happened before he arrived in Paris. In this quiet thriller by R.B. Russell, the futures - and pasts - of these two men will soon cross.

'I think we can all agree,' said Professor Drew, 'that the Giacometti Crucifixion is one of the great masterpieces of modern art - did you say something Dr Corcoran?'

The Chessmen of Mars is a science fantasy novel by American writer Edgar Rice Burroughs, the fifth of his Barsoom series. Burroughs began writing it in January, 1921. In this novel Burroughs focuses on a younger member of the family established by John Carter and Dejah Thoris, protagonists of the first three books in the series. The heroine this time is their daughter Tara, princess of Helium, whose hand is sought by the gallant Gahan, Jed (prince) of Gathol. Both Helium and Gathol are prominent Barsoomian city states.

I made quite an exhibition of myself. I'm usually so shy I fade into the background, take my place at the end of the queue, stand in the corner of the room watching what other people do. It's not that I fear the lime-light, but I try to avoid being vulgar or pushy.

Despite the argument they held hands until they reached the cinema, then she felt his fingers slip away. Next to her she saw not Callum but a man taking a photograph of the Art Deco building. Callum was nowhere to be seen.

Against a black backdrop strewn with stars the silver figure in a long, floating dress sang and swirled, the little silk-shod feet mirrored in the polished black floor. Her voice trilled and swooped like an upper-class nightingale, with those odd strangulated vowels so alien to us today.

Clive was right to suspect there would be trouble when he set up his computer consultancy. Just as he began his publicity campaign, the local newspaper ran an article about him.

The settings and characters in Reggie Oliver's fifth collection of 'strange' stories are as varied and unusual as ever, though, as in previous volumes, the theatre forms the milieu of a number of his tales. But the theatres are not just English ones, in the provinces and the West End: one is on the Black Sea; another in post-colonial Kenya. Themes are equally varied, but underlying all is a deep sense of the spiritual under-currents just below the surface of everyday existence, and the precariousness of 'normality'.

I have been looking forward to being here so much and now it hardly seems real. The view from my bedroom window is of fields and sheep and a hill that is almost a mountain. It is very much like the landscape we dreamed of when we first watched the Series, only on TV the fields are framed by the screen. Here they seem to flow on for ever.

Selena lived on the other side of town, several miles away from Karl's house. Karl had not seen her for some days, and, however many times he rang, she was not answering her phone. Since his driving ban came into force he had been unable to take her out into the countryside and to pubs on the trips that had formed much of their romantic life.

Finding a suitable father for your babies is a haphazard business; there are usually several false starts before you fall in love, move in, get married. If you're lucky, children follow swiftly. Then, without warning, you discover that your husband has done something that hurts you to the quick, destroys your spirit, sears your soul.

She assessed the damage. The coffee-stained duvet, charred by cigarette burns, was stuffed in the wardrobe. Ranged around the rubbish bin were several empty beer bottles lying on their sides. Unrinsed mugs and glasses stood everywhere and damp towels had been dumped on the couch.