Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of
the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies read more

Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of
the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded
yellow sun.

We are talking now of summer evenings in Knoxville, Tennessee in
the time that I lived there so successfully read more

We are talking now of summer evenings in Knoxville, Tennessee in
the time that I lived there so successfully disguised to myself
as a child.

One night, at the latter end of April 1665, the family of a
citizen of London carrying on an read more

One night, at the latter end of April 1665, the family of a
citizen of London carrying on an extensive business as a grocer
in Wood Street, Cheapside, were assembled, according to custom,
at prayer.

In 1846 the prairie town of Oak River existed only in a settler's
dream.

In 1846 the prairie town of Oak River existed only in a settler's
dream.

It was a cold winter Sunday afternoon.

It was a cold winter Sunday afternoon.

At about six in the morning of July 3, 1860, while I was watering
my petunias, and thinking of read more

At about six in the morning of July 3, 1860, while I was watering
my petunias, and thinking of nothing in particular, I perceived
coming towards me, a tall, beardless, fair-haired young fellow,
wearing a German cap and gold-rimmed spectacles.

The morning was as dark and cold as city snow could make it--a
dingy whirl at the window; a read more

The morning was as dark and cold as city snow could make it--a
dingy whirl at the window; a smoky gust through the fire-place; a
shadow black as a bear's cave under the table. Nothing in all
the cavernous room, loomed really warm or familiar except a glass
of stale water, and a vapid, half-eaten grape-fruit.

In the twentieth year of the reign of the right high and puissant
King Henry the Eighth, namely, in read more

In the twentieth year of the reign of the right high and puissant
King Henry the Eighth, namely, in 1529, on the twenty-first of
April, and on one of the loveliest evenings that ever fell on the
loveliest district in England, a fair youth, having somewhat the
appearance of a page, was leaning over the terrace-wall on the
north side of Windsor Castle, and gazing at the magnificent scene
before him.

The primroses were over.

The primroses were over.