Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: October 25, 2025
I took home from a bookshop one day not long ago, after reading an article about it by Professor James Harvey Robinson in the Atlantic, Mr. Alexander's quite extraordinary book, which after starting off with an introduction by Professor John Dewey, of Columbia, leads one into a new world, to the edge, almost the precipitous edge of a new world.
As they neared the bookshop, Aubrey's heart gave a jerk of apprehension. The blinds in the front windows had been drawn down. A dull shining came through them, showing that the lights were turned on inside. But why should the shades be lowered with closing time three hours away? They reached the front door, and Aubrey was about to seize the handle when Roger halted him. "Wait a moment," he said.
Baruch was two days on his journey back to town, and as he came nearer home, he recovered himself a little. Suddenly he remembered the bookshop and the book for which he had to call, and that he had intended to ask Marshall something about the bookseller's new assistant. Madge was a puzzle to Mrs Caffyn. Mrs Caffyn loved her, and when she was ill had behaved like a mother to her.
He kept a bookshop and had a heap of book-learning. I remember him myself, though I was a youngster. He was a wonderful, astonishing sort of chap, though as ugly as the devil; had a great gift of narration, never told the truth in his life, I guess, but that only made him all the more entertaining. And he had a temper phew! Redhot! He'd fly out and storm and strike in all directions.
"Yes, sir," replied the bookseller, smiling with evident pride; "Mr. Gladstone just bought it; I haven't a book for sale Mr. Gladstone just bought them ALL!" The bookseller then proceeded to tell me that whenever Gladstone entered a bookshop he made a practice of buying everything in sight.
He was a very, very old man, feeble and bent, with little that looked alive about him but his light, alert eyes. Everybody knew him he was one of the institutions of Barford as well known as the Town Hall or the Parish Church. For fifty years he had kept a second-hand bookshop in Quagg Alley, the narrow passage-way which connected Market Street with Beck Street.
John liked the sound of Belfast on a Saturday night, the pleased sound of released people intent on enjoyment and with the knowledge that on the morrow there would still be freedom from labour, and as he stood in front of the bookshop, half intent on the books in the window and half intent on the crowd that moved about him, the gloom which had seized hold of him in Smithfield began to relax its grip: and when two girls, jostled against him by the disordered movement of the crowd on the pavement, smiled at him in apology, he smiled back at them.
It is a significant fact that in the lives of men of genius the reading of two or three books has often provoked an immediate and striking expansion of thought and power. Samuel Johnson, a clumsy boy in his father's bookshop, searching for apples, came upon Petrarch, and was destined henceforth to be a man of letters.
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties! Our race of existence is run." I found those words in the Poems bound in tartan which Basil had bought for me in a fascinating bookshop at Ayr and I read them in the room where the poet died. Afterward I was glad to see in St. Michael's churchyard a great many of the "loves and friendships" resting near him in his long sleep.
Franz, Bilibin's man, was dragging a portmanteau with some difficulty out of the front door. Before returning to Bilibin's Prince Andrew had gone to a bookshop to provide himself with some books for the campaign, and had spent some time in the shop. "What is it?" he asked.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking