Book By William Shakespeare Novels & Stories

The library’s floor is polished, and it has a granite fireplace and a comfortable, well-worn sitting arrangement. I heave a sigh, relieved that Ms. Lennie isn’t around to reprimand me. I’ve always loved reading and collecting romance books at home, so seeing these shelves just makes my heart soar. I start my journey inside, searching for cookbooks. Instead, I stumble upon a book placed in a glass cage in the middle of the classics section. I lean forward, touching the glass as I try to read the title. It’s Macbeth and Hamlet by William Shakespeare. The air instantly abandons my lungs when I catch sight of the leather-bound cover. It’s very old but still stunning.

The books were mostly collections of poetry, with a powerful presence of works by William Shakespeare. “The Tempest,” she murmured, excitement evident in her voice. It brought back memories of her school days when she had wanted to borrow the book from the library, only to find it unavailable. She had never bought it herself, worrying about the burden of moving with too many belongings during her frequent relocations. Her fingers hovered over the spines of the books, dabbing them but refraining from pulling any off the shelf. “Let it go, Chom,” Ladapha sighed to herself, attempting to shake off her longing. She turned to leave but startled with a soft gasp, “Oh!”

"Are you sure these Author's biography is on the syllabus?" "Read or fail?" I purse my lips with a dismissing sigh. "It’s a hugely readable book, since B**e is happy to speculate – drawing on what evidence is available – as to many of the great mysteries of Shakespeare’s life and work, such as the identity of the ‘Mr W. H.’ to whom the 1609 printing of the Sonnets was dedicated. It has been called ‘the best modern book on Shakespeare’ (by RSC founder Sir Peter Hall) and is essential reading for anyone interested in the Bard. Also well worth the read is B**e’s biography of the Bard."

" Oh! Romeo, Romeo, thou rejected part of me Here I kneeleth beside thee Thy bleeding piece of earth How I wish I could curseth thy death And bring back thy precious soul Thy blood that feedeth the thirsty soil Can't we travel past this time And go back to the day we met To plan our escape to the ends of the world For the elements of life have conspired against our word How did life taketh so long to bring us together? We would have had a lot of memories to gather".

“These are…these are expensive, Fiona. These are books from the locked shelves behind Jack’s register, aren’t they?” He gently thumbed through the first book, peered at the copyright and glanced at the others surrounding him. “Holy shit!” he chuckled. “I mean, these are The Works of William Shakespeare, from fucking 1880—all ten volumes. Are you kidding me?” When he looked up at her, his eyes were a shimmering dazzle of blue. Fiona laughed at his excitement, happy to watch his giddy, almost childlike

I ask. "Which book do you want?" She asks. "Any tragedy play?" I say as I don't remember any other tragedy plays other than Romeo and Juliet. "I'm not great at literature. If you tell the book name, I will search and see whether it's here," she says. "Ahh..okay. Even me too," I nod and take my phone out of my pocket, going to g****e, typing Shakespeare's tragedy plays. "Please check if there's Macbeth or Hamlet," someone suddenly says from behind me and Miss Bennet frowns. I quickly recognize the voice as Asher Carter's. But the voice sounded hoarse.

Would there be a tomorrow for them? Julius decides to spend the night there, and the next morning, tries to contact Shane. He couldn't risk returning to campus or home. When Romeo wakes up, he is in his room, in his father's palace. He gets up with difficulty and staggers to the door, but it is closed. No one could break down the door made and blessed with royal blood. He crawled to the balcony, but it was impossible to get out that way. It was in these moments that human legends, if true, would be so useful. If he could turn into a bat, he would run away from there.

Once a certain book was picked out, it was to be taken off the list and if you were the last one to pick you would end up with whatever was left in the bowl. Of course, I had my favorites and I was praying quite hard so as not to end up with something that was difficult to read or understand. Thankfully, I got Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and was pretty excited to start working on the report. Les, on the other hand, ended up with The Tempest by William Shakespeare and was silently cursing under her breath. I had no qualms with Shakespeare but Les, in sharp contrast, looked like she was about to collapse on the floor. I guess, like most people, she was intimidated by Shakespeare's po

With her, I could almost pretend I was home, surrounded by people who cared for me. “Ida, dear, what would you say if I read us something not from this country today? There’s a very well-liked writer named Shakespeare in one of the neighbouring countries. What do you say?” She looked at me quizzically. “Here’s one of his works I know you will like: A Lover’s Complaint.”

There were books in French, German, Greek, Arabic, and even some incredibly old ones dating back to the 14th century. Faith enjoyed the muffled stillness in the library, away from her pestering sister who was going crazy begging for answers, only sometimes joined by Katherine or William. When William joined her, they sat for hours in silence or discussing the books they were reading. They were both great fans of Shakespeare's Hamlet, discussing their thoughts together. Twice now, Faith had fallen asleep as she lost herself in a book, only to wake up and be in her bed, the only possible culprit William, and a marker on her page. She never confronted William about it, but it made her heart soa