“In all ranks of life the human heart yearns
for the beautiful; and the beautiful things
that God makes are his gift to all alike.”
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by Harriet Beecher Stowe
(June 14, 1811 - July 1, 1896)
WE'RE TALKIN' BOOKS, ILLUSTRATIONS AND ART!
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Real Gabinete Português de Leitura
(Royal Portuguese Reading Room)
- Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
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The interior of Real Gabinete Português is four stories tall,
capped with a stained-glass cupola and illuminated
by an elaborate chandelier. Created in 1837 by
the Portuguese, the reading room contains
over 350,000 volumes, many of them from
the 17th and 18th centuries.
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"It is a willow when summer is over,
a willow by the river
from which no leaf has fallen nor
bitten by the sun
turned orange or crimson.
The leaves cling and grow paler,
swing and grow paler
over the swirling waters of the river
as if loth to let go,
they are so cool, so drunk with
the swirl of the wind and of the river —
oblivious to winter,
the last to let go and fall
into the water and on the ground."
by William Carlos Williams,
“Willow Poem”
Stories are the wildest things of all,
the monster rumbled.
Stories chase and bite and hunt.
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This is an extraordinarily moving novel
about coming to terms with loss.
The monster showed up just after midnight.
As they do. But it isn’t the monster Conor’s
been expecting. He’s been expecting the one
from his nightmare, the nightmare he’s had
nearly every night since his mother started
her treatments, the one with the darkness
and the wind and the screaming. . . .
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This monster, though, is something different.
Something ancient, something wild.
And it wants the most dangerous
thing of all from Conor.
It wants the truth.
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Patrick Ness spins a tale from the final story
idea of Siobhan Dowd, whose premature death
from cancer prevented her from writing it herself.
Darkly mischievous and painfully funny,
A Monster Calls is an extraordinarily moving novel
about coming to terms with loss from
two of our finest writers for young adults.
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Read the first chapter of
A Monster Calls over at Guardian Books.
I met a Man as I went walking:
We got talking,
Man and I.
"Where are you going to, Man?" I said
(I said to the Man as he went by).
"Down to the village, to get some bread.
Will you come with me?" "No, not I."
I met a horse as I went walking;
We got talking,
Horse and I.
"Where are you going to, Horse, today?"
(I said to the Horse as he went by).
"Down to the village to get some hay.
Will you come with me?" "No, not I."
I met a Woman as I went walking;
We got talking,
Woman and I.
"Where are you going to, Woman, so early?"
(I said to the Woman as she went by).
"Down to the village to get some barley.
Will you come with me?" "No, not I."
I met some Rabbits as I went walking;
We got talking,
Rabbits and I.
"Where are you going in your brown fur coats?"
(I said to the Rabbits as they went by).
"Down to the village to get some oats.
Will you come with us?" "No, not I."
I met a Puppy as I went walking;
We got talking,
Puppy and I.
"Where are you going this nice fine day?"
(I said to the Puppy as he went by).
"Up to the hills to roll and play."
"I'll come with you, Puppy," said I.
Poem by A.A. Milne
Photo taken by me,
our little pup, 8days old
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The garden to Gipsy House was a maze.
At its entrance was placed a slate paving
stone which read:
"...Watch with glittering eyes the whole world
around you because the greatest secrets are
always hidden in the most unlikely places.
Those who don't believe in magic will never find it".
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Snow White and Rose Red by Chris Beatrice
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One evening, as they were thus sitting comfortably
together, someone knocked at the door as if he
wished to be let in. The mother said: ’Quick, Rose-red,
open the door, it must be a traveller who is seeking shelter.
’ Rose-red went and pushed back the bolt, thinking
that it was a poor man, but it was not; it was a
bear that stretched his broad, black head within the door.
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“I will give you what you want.”
I could not find my voice, only a husk of one;
it could barely pass through the fire in my throat.
I clung more tightly to his hands, and held his eyes;
I saw the first touch of icy anger struggle with his patience.
“I will leave you. I won’t trouble you any longer with my love.
But I want to give you something first.
With my love.”
“What?” he asked indifferently.
“Freedom. From me, from this house, from her wood.
I will hold you fast until you stand free of us all.
And then I will leave you.”
I took photo’s of the birth.
Chica began at 21.45h
and now it’s 4AM…
and I am still awake and watching
over Chica and her little ones!
Till now..
She gave birth to 6 puppy’s in total,
5 sweet little girls and one handsome boy ;o)
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and there is her little feet ;o)
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Do you see her cute little tail?
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Welcome little ones!
CLICK HERE FOR MORE PHOTO'S!
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“You have overheard scraps of talk
that filled you with amazement.
You have gone to bed at night bewildered
by the complexity of your feelings.
In one day thousands of ideas have coursed
through your brains; thousands of emotions
have met, collided and disappeared
in astonishing disorder.”
Virginia Woolf
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“O Tiger-Lily!” said Alice, addressing herself to one
that was waving gracefully about in the wind,
“I wish you could talk!”
“We can talk,” said the Tiger-lily,
“When there’s anybody worth talking to.”
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Alice Through the Looking Glass-
by Lewis Carroll
Art unknown to me
UPDATE:
The artist is Emily Winfield Martin
With thanks to Stefa.
The Muppets in Classic Fairytales
Steal from the rich and give to the fuzzy!
Illustrator David Petersen has turned out some
superb Muppet renditions of three classic fairytales:
Snow White, Robbin Hood and King Arthur.
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For more of Petersen’s excellent work,
including his award winning comic series
Mouse Guard, see davidpetersen.net.
Tam Lin by Pamela Dean (1991)
LINK
I forbid ye maidens all
that wear gold in your hair
to travel to Carterhaugh
for young Tam Lin is there
Tam Lin is the hero of a legendary ballad
originating from the Scottish Borders.
The story revolves around the rescue of Tam Lin
by his true love from the Queen of the Fairies.
While this ballad is specific to Scotland,
the motif of capturing a person by holding him
through all forms of transformation is found
throughout Europe in folktales.
I cannot sleep; my mind's too full of him.
What right has he to haunt me, since I vowed
that I would no more think of him aloud,
but store him safe away inside my dim
attic of thoughts? And if I sleep, I dream
of walking with him through a dappled wood;
then, waking, shadows of his visage cloud
my sight. The morning's nascent sunbeams brim
with hazy phantoms from the night before
that sharpen in the glare of afternoon;
when evening glooms, I once again make grim
resolve that I will think of him no more;
at night I lie here staring at the moon.
I cannot sleep. My mind's too full of him.
Art by Albert Edelfelt
Sonnet: First published in Lucidity
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I see you have got this on the brain.
Well, I will let you into the secret.
My right eye laughs when I look at my three sons,
and see how strong and handsome you all are,
and the other eye weeps because I fear that after
I die you will not be able to keep the empire together,
and to protect it from its enemies.
But if you can bring me water from the spring of the
Fairy of the Dawn, to bathe my eyes,
then they will laugh for evermore; for I shall know that
my sons are brave enough to overcome any foe.
The Fairy of the Dawn