Author: Ann Eriksson
Publisher: D & M Publishers
ISBN: 1771620242
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 264
Book Description
High Clear Bell of Morning is the gripping tale of a father’s love and the extent to which he will go to protect his daughter. Ruby’s life begins to unravel when she hears voices coming from her closet. It isn’t long before they are with her all the time. Diagnosed with schizophrenia, her treatment goes awry when she meets a drug dealer, Kenny, in group therapy. He introduces her to cocaine, and then heroin, and within a short space of time she is ready to do almost anything for a drug that makes her feel alive. Unwilling to let her go, her father, Glen, follows Ruby through the streets, catching glimpses of the horror-filled world in which his daughter now resides. Desperate to comprehend her illness, he finds parallels between Ruby and his job as a marine biologist, particularly in the mysterious death of a young whale, found with a body full of chemicals. In a struggle to get his daughter back, Glen commits an unthinkable act that could cause him to lose everything else that has ever mattered to him. Elegantly told and affecting, High Clear Bell of Morning illustrates the strain on families facing mental illnesses, and draws attention to the inadequate system that is meant to help. At the same time, it celebrates the natural world and sends a cautionary warning of what we all have to lose. High Clear Bell of Morning lives up to the high praise Ann Eriksson’s writing has received from Robert Kroetsch, Nino Ricci and many others.
High Clear Bell of Morning
Author: Ann Eriksson
Publisher: D & M Publishers
ISBN: 1771620242
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 264
Book Description
High Clear Bell of Morning is the gripping tale of a father’s love and the extent to which he will go to protect his daughter. Ruby’s life begins to unravel when she hears voices coming from her closet. It isn’t long before they are with her all the time. Diagnosed with schizophrenia, her treatment goes awry when she meets a drug dealer, Kenny, in group therapy. He introduces her to cocaine, and then heroin, and within a short space of time she is ready to do almost anything for a drug that makes her feel alive. Unwilling to let her go, her father, Glen, follows Ruby through the streets, catching glimpses of the horror-filled world in which his daughter now resides. Desperate to comprehend her illness, he finds parallels between Ruby and his job as a marine biologist, particularly in the mysterious death of a young whale, found with a body full of chemicals. In a struggle to get his daughter back, Glen commits an unthinkable act that could cause him to lose everything else that has ever mattered to him. Elegantly told and affecting, High Clear Bell of Morning illustrates the strain on families facing mental illnesses, and draws attention to the inadequate system that is meant to help. At the same time, it celebrates the natural world and sends a cautionary warning of what we all have to lose. High Clear Bell of Morning lives up to the high praise Ann Eriksson’s writing has received from Robert Kroetsch, Nino Ricci and many others.
Publisher: D & M Publishers
ISBN: 1771620242
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 264
Book Description
High Clear Bell of Morning is the gripping tale of a father’s love and the extent to which he will go to protect his daughter. Ruby’s life begins to unravel when she hears voices coming from her closet. It isn’t long before they are with her all the time. Diagnosed with schizophrenia, her treatment goes awry when she meets a drug dealer, Kenny, in group therapy. He introduces her to cocaine, and then heroin, and within a short space of time she is ready to do almost anything for a drug that makes her feel alive. Unwilling to let her go, her father, Glen, follows Ruby through the streets, catching glimpses of the horror-filled world in which his daughter now resides. Desperate to comprehend her illness, he finds parallels between Ruby and his job as a marine biologist, particularly in the mysterious death of a young whale, found with a body full of chemicals. In a struggle to get his daughter back, Glen commits an unthinkable act that could cause him to lose everything else that has ever mattered to him. Elegantly told and affecting, High Clear Bell of Morning illustrates the strain on families facing mental illnesses, and draws attention to the inadequate system that is meant to help. At the same time, it celebrates the natural world and sends a cautionary warning of what we all have to lose. High Clear Bell of Morning lives up to the high praise Ann Eriksson’s writing has received from Robert Kroetsch, Nino Ricci and many others.
First to Fall
Author: Wayne G. Sayles
Publisher: Wayne Sayles
ISBN: 1879080060
Category : A-20 (Bomber)
Languages : en
Pages : 239
Book Description
Publisher: Wayne Sayles
ISBN: 1879080060
Category : A-20 (Bomber)
Languages : en
Pages : 239
Book Description
Stories for the young
Author: Hans Christian Andersen
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category : Children's stories, Danish
Languages : en
Pages : 488
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category : Children's stories, Danish
Languages : en
Pages : 488
Book Description
The Castle of Twilight
Author: Margaret Horton Potter
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
ISBN: 146557381X
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 340
Book Description
It was mid-April: a sunny afternoon. A flood of golden light, borne on gusts of sweet, chilly air, poured through the open windows of the Castle into a high-vaulted, massively furnished bedroom, hung with tapestries, and strewn with dry rushes. A heavy silence that was less a thing of the moment than a part of the general atmosphere hovered about the room; and it was not lessened by the unceasing murmur of ocean waves breaking upon the face of the cliff on which the Castle stood. This sound held in it a note of unutterable melancholy. Indeed, despite the sunlight, the sparkle of the waves, and the fragrance of the fresh spring air, this whole building, the culminating point of a long slope of landscape, seemed wrapped in an atmosphere of loneliness, of sadness, of lifelessness, that found full expression in the attitude of the black-robed woman who knelt alone in the high-vaulted bedroom. Eleanore was kneeling at her priedieu. Madame Eleanore knelt at her priedieu, and did not pray. Nay, the great grief, the unvoiced bitterness in her heart, killed prayer. For, henceforth, there was one near and unbearably dear to her who must be praying for evermore. And it was this thought and the vista of her future lonely years that denied her, even as she knelt, the consolation of religion. To the still solitude of her bedchamber, and always to the foot of her crucifix, the chatelaine of Le Crépusculewas accustomed to bring her griefs; and there had been many griefs and some very bitter ones in the thirty-four years that she had reigned as mistress over the Castle. But this last was one that, trained though she was in the ways of sorrow, defied all comfort, denied the right of consolation, and forbade even the relief of an appeal to the All-merciful. Laure, her daughter, the star of her solitude, the youth and the joy of her life, the object of all the blind devotion of which her mother-soul was capable, had this morning entered upon her novitiate at the convent of the Virgins of the Magdalen. Although Madame Eleanore’s family was celebrated for its piety, though many a generation of Lavals and Crépuscules had rendered a daughter to the eternal worship of God, there were still no records left in either family of a great mother-grief when the daughter left her home. But madame, Laval as she was, Crépuscule as she had learned to be, could not find it in her heart to praise God for the loss of her child. Once again, after many years, years that she could look back upon now as filled with broad content, she was alone. Not since, many, many years ago, she had come to the Castle as a girl-bride, wife of a military lord, had such utter desolation held her in its bonds,—such desolation as, after the coming of her two children, she had thought never to feel again. In the days after the Seigneur’s first early departure for Rennes, without her, she had felt as now. It came back very vividly to her memory, how he had ridden away for the capital, the city of war, of arms, of glittering shield and piercing lance, of tourney and laughter and song; how she had longed in silence to ride thither at his side; how she had wept when he was really gone; how she had watched bitterly, day after day, for his return up the steep road that came out of the forest on the edge of the sand-downs below. Clearly indeed did her youth return to Eleanore as she knelt here, in the barred sunlight, alone with her unheeding crucifix. And intertwined with this memory was the new sense of blinding sorrow, the loss of Laure.
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
ISBN: 146557381X
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 340
Book Description
It was mid-April: a sunny afternoon. A flood of golden light, borne on gusts of sweet, chilly air, poured through the open windows of the Castle into a high-vaulted, massively furnished bedroom, hung with tapestries, and strewn with dry rushes. A heavy silence that was less a thing of the moment than a part of the general atmosphere hovered about the room; and it was not lessened by the unceasing murmur of ocean waves breaking upon the face of the cliff on which the Castle stood. This sound held in it a note of unutterable melancholy. Indeed, despite the sunlight, the sparkle of the waves, and the fragrance of the fresh spring air, this whole building, the culminating point of a long slope of landscape, seemed wrapped in an atmosphere of loneliness, of sadness, of lifelessness, that found full expression in the attitude of the black-robed woman who knelt alone in the high-vaulted bedroom. Eleanore was kneeling at her priedieu. Madame Eleanore knelt at her priedieu, and did not pray. Nay, the great grief, the unvoiced bitterness in her heart, killed prayer. For, henceforth, there was one near and unbearably dear to her who must be praying for evermore. And it was this thought and the vista of her future lonely years that denied her, even as she knelt, the consolation of religion. To the still solitude of her bedchamber, and always to the foot of her crucifix, the chatelaine of Le Crépusculewas accustomed to bring her griefs; and there had been many griefs and some very bitter ones in the thirty-four years that she had reigned as mistress over the Castle. But this last was one that, trained though she was in the ways of sorrow, defied all comfort, denied the right of consolation, and forbade even the relief of an appeal to the All-merciful. Laure, her daughter, the star of her solitude, the youth and the joy of her life, the object of all the blind devotion of which her mother-soul was capable, had this morning entered upon her novitiate at the convent of the Virgins of the Magdalen. Although Madame Eleanore’s family was celebrated for its piety, though many a generation of Lavals and Crépuscules had rendered a daughter to the eternal worship of God, there were still no records left in either family of a great mother-grief when the daughter left her home. But madame, Laval as she was, Crépuscule as she had learned to be, could not find it in her heart to praise God for the loss of her child. Once again, after many years, years that she could look back upon now as filled with broad content, she was alone. Not since, many, many years ago, she had come to the Castle as a girl-bride, wife of a military lord, had such utter desolation held her in its bonds,—such desolation as, after the coming of her two children, she had thought never to feel again. In the days after the Seigneur’s first early departure for Rennes, without her, she had felt as now. It came back very vividly to her memory, how he had ridden away for the capital, the city of war, of arms, of glittering shield and piercing lance, of tourney and laughter and song; how she had longed in silence to ride thither at his side; how she had wept when he was really gone; how she had watched bitterly, day after day, for his return up the steep road that came out of the forest on the edge of the sand-downs below. Clearly indeed did her youth return to Eleanore as she knelt here, in the barred sunlight, alone with her unheeding crucifix. And intertwined with this memory was the new sense of blinding sorrow, the loss of Laure.
Luke Delmege
Author: Patrick Augustine Sheehan
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 596
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 596
Book Description
Legend of the Realm
Author: Alexandra Ott
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
ISBN: 1534438629
Category : Juvenile Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 320
Book Description
Bryn, Ari, and their dragon Lilja discover a sick baby gyrpuff and join the rest of the Seekers in trying to determine if a dreadful plague has returned--and if human forces brought it back.
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
ISBN: 1534438629
Category : Juvenile Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 320
Book Description
Bryn, Ari, and their dragon Lilja discover a sick baby gyrpuff and join the rest of the Seekers in trying to determine if a dreadful plague has returned--and if human forces brought it back.
Praying Clear Through
Author: Will J. Harney
Publisher: Whitaker House
ISBN: 1641233338
Category : Religion
Languages : en
Pages : 185
Book Description
“God needs giants today, and we receive giant strength by waiting on Him.” —Will J. Harney Most believers do not rise to their full privilege in prayer. Successful prayer cannot be rushed. If we want to hear from heaven, we must allow time for God’s voice to fully break through the din of life. When we have a tremendous amount of work to be done for the day, we dare not leave out prayer. As Martin Luther observed, “I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer.” The real danger in not taking sufficient time to commune with God and implore Him for our requests is the slow erosion of the Spirit’s voice, when life’s static distracts a believer from what is truly important and necessary for a successful life. In this classic work on effective prayer, Will J. Harney reminds us that there are vast rewards in store for those who make prayer a priority. Prayer does not need to be a chore for the growing Christian, for it is one of the highest privileges accorded us. But to receive our divine answer, we must “pray clear through”— that is, pray continually and with urgency until, at last, we hear from heaven. "And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us: and if we know that he hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him." (1 John 5:14–15)
Publisher: Whitaker House
ISBN: 1641233338
Category : Religion
Languages : en
Pages : 185
Book Description
“God needs giants today, and we receive giant strength by waiting on Him.” —Will J. Harney Most believers do not rise to their full privilege in prayer. Successful prayer cannot be rushed. If we want to hear from heaven, we must allow time for God’s voice to fully break through the din of life. When we have a tremendous amount of work to be done for the day, we dare not leave out prayer. As Martin Luther observed, “I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer.” The real danger in not taking sufficient time to commune with God and implore Him for our requests is the slow erosion of the Spirit’s voice, when life’s static distracts a believer from what is truly important and necessary for a successful life. In this classic work on effective prayer, Will J. Harney reminds us that there are vast rewards in store for those who make prayer a priority. Prayer does not need to be a chore for the growing Christian, for it is one of the highest privileges accorded us. But to receive our divine answer, we must “pray clear through”— that is, pray continually and with urgency until, at last, we hear from heaven. "And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us: and if we know that he hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him." (1 John 5:14–15)
The Pink House
Author: David Dinklage
Publisher: iUniverse
ISBN: 0595443141
Category : Biography & Autobiography
Languages : en
Pages : 266
Book Description
REDFISH."Ina still and shallow surf he fishes sandbar white and shell pink redfish in much the same manner he would fish bonefish in other waters." STRIPED BASS."he is telling about the rumor of a spotter plane out of the Chesapeake reporting a thirty-seven mile long school of large striped bass coming down along the coast of Virginia." BLUEFISH."the boys are running along a summer afternoon's surf chasing flighty schools of small blues scattering bait beneath the terns." BONEFISH."they mount the edge of the sill in cautious sallies, keeping their shadows close beneath them; briefly on, quickly off." POMPANO."there were shoals of pompano turning in the evening surf like polychromatic discs returning the last violet rays of the sinking sun." TUNA."and he told of his years with the charter boat fleet hunting the giant tuna, the giant tuna that were no more." GROUPER."they fished tarred hand lines without leaders and sunk with sash weights the hooks baited with orange chunks of conch."
Publisher: iUniverse
ISBN: 0595443141
Category : Biography & Autobiography
Languages : en
Pages : 266
Book Description
REDFISH."Ina still and shallow surf he fishes sandbar white and shell pink redfish in much the same manner he would fish bonefish in other waters." STRIPED BASS."he is telling about the rumor of a spotter plane out of the Chesapeake reporting a thirty-seven mile long school of large striped bass coming down along the coast of Virginia." BLUEFISH."the boys are running along a summer afternoon's surf chasing flighty schools of small blues scattering bait beneath the terns." BONEFISH."they mount the edge of the sill in cautious sallies, keeping their shadows close beneath them; briefly on, quickly off." POMPANO."there were shoals of pompano turning in the evening surf like polychromatic discs returning the last violet rays of the sinking sun." TUNA."and he told of his years with the charter boat fleet hunting the giant tuna, the giant tuna that were no more." GROUPER."they fished tarred hand lines without leaders and sunk with sash weights the hooks baited with orange chunks of conch."
The Forest Farm
Author: Peter Rosegger
Publisher: WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD. PRINTERS
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 106
Book Description
Example in this ebook Rosegger: An Appreciation The unmistakable trend of our time is the civilisation—which, in its modern form, is largely urbanisation—of the whole habitable globe. From its centres outwards it is thrusting itself upon places, men, processes—ultimate sanctuaries, never before reached by alien trespassing. Most men are looking on at its destruction of the old order with shrugging acceptance of the inevitable, or hailing the chaotic stuff of the new in its making with so far unjustified joy. With a wit worn somewhat threadbare with use they invariably counsel the few eccentrics who deny its inevitability and question its beneficence to quit the hopes and mops of Mrs. Partington for the discreet submission of the wiser Canute. Then they grow properly grave, and declare that this modern civilisation, for all its shortcomings, has been well described as a banquet, the like of which, for those below as for those above the salt, has never been spread before. However that may be, there is no question that here and there a guest is sometimes moved to look round on the company and scan its several types with a sudden sense of their significance. Some of these, good and bad, are common to all late civilisations, he perceives, others as hatefully peculiar to our own as certain diseases. Where, in God's name, were there ever till now men like these, who bend a complaisant spectacled gaze on a world going under, content if they may but first secure their museum sample (including one carefully chosen, perfectly embalmed, stuffed and catalogued peasant) of every species? Or their younger kindred—men whose intellect obeys no inspiration save curiosity nor law save its own limit, whose inventions, therefore, cannot foster good and beauty but only spoil these in Nature and men's souls? As for that splendid group beyond, one may question if Athens, Rome, or Byzantium, whose sumptuous culture of brain and body achieved an almost criminal comeliness by Christian standards, ever equalled them: question, too, whether their selfish perfection or the travesty of it in this mob of women dull with luxury, of men brutalised by the scramble of getting it for them—be less desirable for the race! Thankfully his eye passes from them to those who turn such a cold shoulder upon their vulgarity: a little company, fine-edged, polished and flexible with perpetual fence of wit and word, hardly peculiar to our day perhaps, but rather such as might have played their irresponsible game on the eve of any red revolution. Now and again they lend an amused ear to various gassy gospels over the way, where, as he perceives, he is once more among the children of this latter day alone: notably certain insignificances who, because they have raised their self-indulgence to the dignity of a problem play, are solemnly mistaking themselves (as actors and audience too) for pioneers of social progress; and some earnest women who have slammed the front door on their nearest and dearest stay-at-home duties and privileges, to go questing after problematical rights. It looks, too, as if the same types, modified for worse and better by class conditions, were repeated below the salt; but there the multitude is so great that the individuals are soon lost in a far-off colourless mass—sometimes a menacing mass—by no means so content with stale bread as the others with caviare. To be continue in this ebook
Publisher: WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD. PRINTERS
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 106
Book Description
Example in this ebook Rosegger: An Appreciation The unmistakable trend of our time is the civilisation—which, in its modern form, is largely urbanisation—of the whole habitable globe. From its centres outwards it is thrusting itself upon places, men, processes—ultimate sanctuaries, never before reached by alien trespassing. Most men are looking on at its destruction of the old order with shrugging acceptance of the inevitable, or hailing the chaotic stuff of the new in its making with so far unjustified joy. With a wit worn somewhat threadbare with use they invariably counsel the few eccentrics who deny its inevitability and question its beneficence to quit the hopes and mops of Mrs. Partington for the discreet submission of the wiser Canute. Then they grow properly grave, and declare that this modern civilisation, for all its shortcomings, has been well described as a banquet, the like of which, for those below as for those above the salt, has never been spread before. However that may be, there is no question that here and there a guest is sometimes moved to look round on the company and scan its several types with a sudden sense of their significance. Some of these, good and bad, are common to all late civilisations, he perceives, others as hatefully peculiar to our own as certain diseases. Where, in God's name, were there ever till now men like these, who bend a complaisant spectacled gaze on a world going under, content if they may but first secure their museum sample (including one carefully chosen, perfectly embalmed, stuffed and catalogued peasant) of every species? Or their younger kindred—men whose intellect obeys no inspiration save curiosity nor law save its own limit, whose inventions, therefore, cannot foster good and beauty but only spoil these in Nature and men's souls? As for that splendid group beyond, one may question if Athens, Rome, or Byzantium, whose sumptuous culture of brain and body achieved an almost criminal comeliness by Christian standards, ever equalled them: question, too, whether their selfish perfection or the travesty of it in this mob of women dull with luxury, of men brutalised by the scramble of getting it for them—be less desirable for the race! Thankfully his eye passes from them to those who turn such a cold shoulder upon their vulgarity: a little company, fine-edged, polished and flexible with perpetual fence of wit and word, hardly peculiar to our day perhaps, but rather such as might have played their irresponsible game on the eve of any red revolution. Now and again they lend an amused ear to various gassy gospels over the way, where, as he perceives, he is once more among the children of this latter day alone: notably certain insignificances who, because they have raised their self-indulgence to the dignity of a problem play, are solemnly mistaking themselves (as actors and audience too) for pioneers of social progress; and some earnest women who have slammed the front door on their nearest and dearest stay-at-home duties and privileges, to go questing after problematical rights. It looks, too, as if the same types, modified for worse and better by class conditions, were repeated below the salt; but there the multitude is so great that the individuals are soon lost in a far-off colourless mass—sometimes a menacing mass—by no means so content with stale bread as the others with caviare. To be continue in this ebook
The Ladies' Home Journal
Author:
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category : Women's periodicals
Languages : en
Pages : 1032
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category : Women's periodicals
Languages : en
Pages : 1032
Book Description