Classic Books To Read In Autumn 소설 & 이야기

I wandered aimlessly to the library, hoping I could get hold of something nice to pass the time. Autumn had arrived and the nights were drawing in quicker. The library was deserted as every omega servant would be pressed into service tonight. In keeping with the seasons, the lights were low and dim, replicating the candles of the past and my shadows cast everywhere as I searched the deep mahogany shelves for something to divert my attention.

Wow. I was drooling. It wasn't just a room with books. It was a sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with hardcovers, a rolling ladder, a massive fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. The scent of old paper and leather hit me, comforting and familiar. I ran my finger along the spines. ‘The Art of War’, ‘Sun Tzu’. ‘Histories of the Roman Empire’. Biographies of kings and conquerors. Heavy stuff. Interspersed with them were fiction classics. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Dumas.

Alana let go of our hands, darting toward the children’s section at the end of the hall. Suddenly, it was just the two of us. Standing side by side in the narrow aisle of classic literature. Gareth tucked his hands into his pockets, scanning the spines of the books with a quiet, respectful interest. "What do you usually go for, Claire?" he asked softly. His voice seemed to blend into the hum of the air conditioning. I ran my fingers along the worn spines of the hardcovers. "The classics. Jane Austen, the Brontës... anything with beautiful prose and a happy ending. I suppose I like the escape."

She might as well start with those. She grabbed a cloth and carefully wiped each book clean before placing them into a cardboard box. As she carried the box downstairs, she happened to run into Julian, who had just rushed back. He glanced at her and asked casually, “Where are you taking those books?” Autumn looked down at the books in her arms and replied offhandedly, “I was cleaning the room and saw these lying around gathering dust. Figured they’re useless now, so I’m tossing them.” Julian’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Autumn Emily's POV Aran's full council of eight Alphas arrived in the autumn when the hills were going gold and the packhouse had the specific quality it had in autumn — the warmth of a community that had spent a summer running at full pace and was settling into the more interior rhythms of the season without losing any of the quality that the summer's work had produced.

There is so much the woman doesn't understand, so he says, "Why don't you go and get ready Jace. We'll meet back up in a bit for that tour. This is a big estate, there's a lot of ground to cover - plenty of time you fill you in on city's most legendary couple." Alexander takes his time driving into his home city. Time isn't something he has much of back in the city. So, a leisurely drive through the scenic back roads of Alabama feels...indulgent. With the radio silent, the only sounds are the hum of the engine and the fresh October air swirling around him from the open windows. Autumn has always been his favorite time of year. It's the season of cozy sweaters, bonfires and pumpkin spice. The

She could give a seafood gumbo her full attention and forget that she spent most nights alone. Reading was Alexa’s other passion. She was a sucker for the classics. There were a handful of stories she read again and again. She’d been devouring the Bronte sisters and Austen since she was eleven. It was the one hobby she and her mother shared. Instead of children’s bedtime stories, her mother read her The Little House on the Prairie books, then Nancy Drew mysteries. Soon after, they had read Little Women and Emma. Once she’d finished her meal, she still had some time to waste before her yoga class and decided to walk. The sun wouldn’t set until after her class began, and she could message Jame

I said with a grin. We couldn’t talk much after that because the teacher started class. We were continuing to read The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. It’s a depressing book about a colonial woman who has a child out of wedlock, and is shunned. I don’t know why English teachers insist on having students read such depressing literature. Still, I heard one of the other classes was doing The Crucible by Arthur Miller. Somehow, Scarlet Letter seems less depressing than a bunch of girls faking possession. Maybe.

He started to help her unpack her books, glancing at the spines as they started to shelve them in a tiny bookshelf that wouldn’t hold even half of her collection. Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Elizabeth Gaskell, John Keats, Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Charles Dickens—so many books, most of which had clearly been read over and over again. Some were falling apart, barely glued together. When he took out a copy of Frankenstein, the cover fell off entirely. “Oh, poor guy. This one has been through a lot.” Rose took the book from him, smiling. That smile burst something inside him. Something hot, something dangerous. Something that felt exactly like longing. He caught his breath and forced hims

"That sentence. That's the whole book in one sentence." "Then write it," he said. "Saturday," she said. He held her close in the afternoon library and outside the September city was beginning to turn — the first edges of autumn appearing, the light going golden and long, the year moving toward its close. Friday. The review. Saturday. The ending. Everything after, beginning.