The aging captain, gray at the temples now, had steered the great ship Glory for many years, and was ready to retire.
It is, Roy thinks, perfect. Kismet, serendipity, destiny, happenstance; call it what you will.
Primitive technology is the practice of making tools, structures, textiles, and clothing using only natural materials found in the wild.
In June 1885, three Frenchmen arrived in London. One was a Prince, one was a Count, and the third was a commoner with an Italian surname.
There’s a story from World War I, perhaps apocryphal, but possibly true, that sums up Australia’s love of gambling.
You Verres will plead that your statues and pictures have adorned the city and the forum of the people of Rome …
Through his periscope, Kapitän Hans Schultz watched the chaos aboard the schooner Carroll A. Deering and smiled.
Amma is walking along the promenade of the waterway that bisects her city, a few early morning barges cruise slowly by to her left is the nautical-themed footbridge with its deck-like walkway and sailing mast pylons
In the early afternoon on a Saturday in June, Jack Kennison put on his sunglasses, got into his sports car with the top down, strapped the seatbelt over his shoulder and across his large stomach, and drove to Portland.
Nan Appleby, waiting for the kettle to boil in the kitchen of her fifth-floor flat, observed the signs of weather.
It was a miserable mid-march afternoon, chill and sleeting, as John Sampson and I ran to the main gate of the Greensville Correctional Center, a hexagon-shaped high-security prison in the rural, southern part of the Commonwealth of Virginia.
“Voila!” Charlie spun the chair around and smiled into the mirror as she stood behind Meg.
Back in his den with the cocoa he settles into the beanbag chair bequeathed to him by a departing student the year before.
Here are some things I know about weight. A pound of feathers weighs as much as a pound of bricks, but a pound of bricks is easier to carry.
Well, here it is: the newest, bang-up-to-date edition of Up the Duff.
Long ago, when I was a junior high school student in America, I remember being taught by a biology teacher that all the chemicals that make up a human body could be bought in a hardware store for $5 or something like that.
Dear Girls, You are prohibited from reading this book until you are twenty-one years old.
That morning, Jim Sams, clever but by no means profound, woke from uneasy dreams to find himself transformed into a gigantic creature.
It was four nights before Christmas Eve, and the city of San Francisco had decked the halls, houses, and grand public edifices in a sparkling, merry Christmas display.
Even now I still dream about Brodie’s Watch, and the nightmare is always the same.
Our meeting was not contrived. Not by me, not by Ed, not by any of the hidden hands supposedly pulling at his strings.