Скачивание или чтение книги с сайта. Mreadz. MREADZ.COM

The Gardener

She dwelt on the hillside by the edge of a maize-field, near the spring that flows in laughing rills through the solemn shadows of ancient trees. The women came there to fill their jars, and travellers would sit there to rest and talk. She worked and dreamed daily to the tune of the bubbling stream. One evening the stranger came down from the cloud-hidden peak; his locks were tangled like drowsy snakes. We asked in wonder, "Who are you?" He answered not but sat by the garrulous stream and silently gazed at the hut where she dwelt. Our hearts quaked in fear and we came back home when it was night. Next morning when the women came to fetch water at the spring by the deodar trees, they found the doors open in her hut, but her voice was gone and where was her smiling face? The empty jar lay on the floor and her lamp had burnt itself out in the corner. No one knew where she had fled to before it was morning—and the stranger had gone.

The Home and the World

Rabindranath Tagore

THIS was the time when Sandip Babu with his followers came to our neighbourhood to preach Swadeshi. There is to be a big meeting in our temple pavilion. We women are sitting there, on one side, behind a screen. Triumphant shouts of Bande Mataramcome nearer: and to them I am thrilling through and through. Suddenly a stream of barefooted youths in turbans, clad in ascetic ochre, rushes into the quadrangle, like a silt-reddened freshet into a dry river-bed at the first burst of the rains. The whole place is filled with an immense crowd, through which Sandip Babu is borne, seated in a big chair hoisted on the shoulders of ten or twelve of the youths. Bande Mataram! Bande Mataram! Bande Mataram! It seems as though the skies would be rent and scattered into a thousand fragments. I had seen Sandip Babu's photograph before. There was something in his features which I did not quite like. Not that he was bad-looking—far from it: he had a splendidly handsome face. Yet, I know not why,…

The Hungry Stones and Other Stories

Rabindranath Tagore

My kinsman and myself were returning to Calcutta from our Puja trip when we met the man in a train. From his dress and bearing we took him at first for an up-country Mahomedan, but we were puzzled as we heard him talk. He discoursed upon all subjects so confidently that you might think the Disposer of All Things consulted him at all times in all that He did. Hitherto we had been perfectly happy, as we did not know that secret and unheard-of forces were at work, that the Russians had advanced close to us, that the English had deep and secret policies, that confusion among the native chiefs had come to a head. But our newly-acquired friend said with a sly smile: "There happen more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are reported in your newspapers." As we had never stirred out of our homes before, the demeanour of the man struck us dumb with wonder. Be the topic ever so trivial, he would quote science, ......

Bill W. A Strange Salvation: A Biographical Novel Based on Key Moments in the Life of Bill Wilson, the Alcoholics Anonymous Founder, and a Probing of His Mysterious 11-year Depression

Paul Hourihan

After Bill Wilson's supreme achievement in founding Alcoholics Anonymous, why would he have suffered a serious depression that lasted more than a decade? This book attempts to throw light on the question, one that has never been answered and rarely asked. In doing so, it involves the reader in many other themes of vital relevance to everyone–not to those in recovery alone. This in-depth psychological study of the AA founder is generally based on the facts of Wilson's life, but not restricted to the literal truth: the prerogative of the novel. Some biographical events in Wilson's history have been passed over in favor of an intensive, original recreation of its key moments, from childhood to early middle age, when the power of the depression was first felt. As a work of the imagination as this chiefly is, it is able to probe more deeply into the hidden life of its subject than non-fiction. Also addressed is why Bill W. was prevented from going "beyond sobriety" and into deeper spiritual waters. According to the author, Bill W.'s depression may have been his salvation, and saved him from a worse fate. "Bill W., A Strange Salvation" will introduce new readers to Bill Wilson–"the greatest social architect" in Aldous Huxley's words of his century–and one of the seminal voices of our age. It also provides a fresh look for those already familiar with his story.

The Post Office

Rabindranath Tagore

[Madhav's House] Madhav. What a state I am in! Before he came, nothing mattered; I felt so free. But now that he has come, goodness knows from where, my heart is filled with his dear self, and my home will be no home to me when he leaves. Doctor, do you think he— Physician. If there's life in his fate, then he will live long. But what the medical scriptures say, it seems— Madhav. Great heavens, what? Physician. The scriptures have it: "Bile or palsey, cold or gout spring all alike." Madhav. Oh, get along, don't fling your scriptures at me; you only make me more anxious; tell me what I can do. Physician [Taking snuff] The patient needs the most scrupulous care. Madhav. That's true; but tell me how. Physician. I have already mentioned, on no account must he be let out of doors. Madhav Poor child, it is very hard to keep him indoors all day long.

The King of the Dark Chamber

Rabindranath Tagore

Sings. We are all Kings in the kingdom of our King. Were it not so, how could we hope in our heart to meet him! We do what we like, yet we do what he likes; We are not bound with the chain of fear at the feet of a slave-owning King. Were it not so, how could we hope in our heart to meet him! Our King honours each one of us, thus honours his own very self. No littleness can keep us shut up in its walls of untruth for aye. Were it not so, how could we have hope in our heart to meet him! We struggle and dig our own path, thus reach his path at the end. We can never get lost in the abyss of dark night. Were it not so, how could we hope in our heart to meet him! Song. My beloved is ever in my heart That is why I see him everywhere, He is in the pupils of my eyes That is why I see him everywhere. I went far away to hear his own words,.....

Winter Evening Tales

Amelia Edith Huddleston

A narrow street with dreadful "wynds" and "vennels" running back from it was the High street of Glasgow at the time my story opens. And yet, though dirty, noisy and overcrowded with sin and suffering, a flavor of old time royalty and romance lingered amid its vulgar surroundings; and midway of its squalid length a quaint brown frontage kept behind it noble halls of learning, and pleasant old courts full of the "air of still delightful studies." From this building came out two young men in academic costume. One of them set his face dourly against the clammy fog and drizzling rain, breathing it boldly, as if it was the balmiest oxygen; the other, shuddering, drew his scarlet toga around him and said, mournfully, "Ech, Davie, the High street is an ill furlong on the de'il's road! I never tread it, but I think o' the weary, weary miles atween it and Eden." "There is no road without its bad league, Willie, and the High street has its compensations;....

Thought-Forms

Annie Besant

As knowledge increases, the attitude of science towards the things of the invisible world is undergoing considerable modification. Its attention is no longer directed solely to the earth with all its variety of objects, or to the physical worlds around it; but it finds itself compelled to glance further afield, and to construct hypotheses as to the nature of the matter and force which lie in the regions beyond the ken of its instruments. Ether is now comfortably settled in the scientific kingdom, becoming almost more than a hypothesis. Mesmerism, under its new name of hypnotism, is no longer an outcast. Contents: 1. THE DIFFICULTY OF REPRESENTATION 2. THE TWO EFFECTS OF THOUGHT HOW THE VIBRATION ACTS THE FORM AND ITS EFFECT 3. THE MEANING OF THE COLOURS 4. THREE CLASSES OF THOUGHT-FORMS ILLUSTRATIVE THOUGHT-FORMS VARIOUS EMOTIONS FORMS SEEN IN THOSE MEDITATING 5. HELPFUL THOUGHTS 6. FORMS BUILT BY MUSIC

The Young Musician or, Fighting His Way

Alger Horatio Jr.

"As for the boy," said Squire Pope, with his usual autocratic air, "I shall place him in the poorhouse." "But, Benjamin," said gentle Mrs. Pope, who had a kindly and sympathetic heart, "isn't that a little hard?" "Hard, Almira?" said the squire, arching his eyebrows. "I fail to comprehend your meaning." "You know Philip has been tenderly reared, and has always had a comfortable home—" "He will have a comfortable home now, Mrs. Pope. Probably you are not aware that it cost the town two thousand dollars last year to maintain the almshouse. I can show you the item in the town report." "I don't doubt it at all, husband," said Mrs. Pope gently. "Of course you know all about it, being a public man." Squire Pope smiled complacently. It pleased him to be spoken of as a public man. "Ahem! Well, yes, I believe I have no inconsiderable influence in town affairs," he responded. "I am on the board of selectmen, and am chairman of the overseers of the poor, …

The Witch and Other Stories

Anton Chekhov

IN the village of Reybuzh, just facing the church, stands a two-storeyed house with a stone foundation and an iron roof. In the lower storey the owner himself, Filip Ivanov Kashin, nicknamed Dyudya, lives with his family, and on the upper floor, where it is apt to be very hot in summer and very cold in winter, they put up government officials, merchants, or landowners, who chance to be travelling that way. Dyudya rents some bits of land, keeps a tavern on the highroad, does a trade in tar, honey, cattle, and jackdaws, and has already something like eight thousand roubles put by in the bank in the town. His elder son, Fyodor, is head engineer in the factory, and, as the peasants say of him, he has risen so high in the world that he is quite out of reach now. Fyodor's wife, Sofya, a plain, ailing woman, lives at home at her father-in-law's. She is for ever crying, and every Sunday she goes over to the hospital for medicine. Dyudya's second son, the hunchback Alyoshka, is living at …

MREADZ.COM - много разных книг на любой вкус