#Literature & #Fiction: Delusion in Death by J.D. Robb. It was just another after-work happy-hour bar downtown, where business professionals unwound with a few drinks . . .until something went terribly wrong. And after twelve minutes of chaos and violence, eighty people lay dead. Lieutenant Eve Dallas is trying to sort out the inexplicable events. Surviving witnesses talk about seeing things—monsters and swarms of bees. Click The Pic!
"One Hundred Years of Solitude" was "the first novel in which Latin Americans recognized themselves, that defined them, celebrated their passion, their intensity, their spirituality and superstition, their grand propensity for failure," biographer Gerald Martin told The Associated Press.
Edgar Allan Poe Tried & Failed to Crack the Mysterious Murder Case of Mary Rogers - Working in the spring of 1842, Edgar Allan Poe transported Mary’s tale to Paris &, in “The Mystery of Marie Rogêt,” gave her a more Francophone name (& a job in a perfume shop), but the details otherwise match exactly. The opening of Poe’s story makes his intent clear.
Even though the Bible is one of the most widely read books in history, most readers of religious literature have no knowledge of the Septuagint—the Bible that was used almost universally by early Christians—or of how it differs from the Bible used as the basis for most modern translations.
Samuel Peyps: "Up; and put on my coloured silk suit very fine, and my new periwigg, bought a good while since, but durst not wear, because the plague was in Westminster when I bought it; and it is a wonder what will be the fashion after the plague is done, as to periwiggs, for nobody will dare to buy any haire, for fear of the infection, that it had been cut off of the heads of people dead of the plague." Sunday 3 September 1665
Is This The Funniest Joke In The World? (NEW BOOK)
Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He's not breathing and his eyes are glazed, so his friend calls 911. "My friend is dead! What should I do?" The operator replies, "Calm down, sir. I can help. First make sure that he's dead." There's a silence, then a loud bang. Back on the phone, the guy says, "Ok, now what?"
R.I.P J. D SALINGER “I hope to hell that when I do die somebody has the sense to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetary. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you’re dead? Nobody.” i bet they buried him. bastards.