Classics Novels To Read Novels & Stories

"Watch some television! Play some video games! Do something fun, but not strenuous." "Umm... I've been wanting to get caught up on my reading," she mused. "Oh, yeah?" I asked, putting everything away. "So, who are your favorite authors?" She shrugged. "William Faulkner, William Shakespeare, Tennessee Williams, John Steinbeck--"

"Exquisite." "Are you sure you don't mean superb?" "Meritorious might work better." "You got that from Stephen King?" "I have no idea where it came from. What do you like to read?" "The classics-fiction, non-fiction, the phonebook." God she was perfect. "You read everything, I take it?" "Just about. There's a thrift store down the street and every now and then I find an oldie but goody for a quarter."

The bell rang. Jane was stuffing A Tale of Two Cities into her backpack when she heard Lucy's voice beside her. "You're reading Dickens?" Jane nodded warily. "Oh, I love Dickens. Have you read David Copperfield? Or Oliver Twist? Olive Twist is my favorite. I've read it twice. I cried both times. I can't believe someone else in our class is reading Dickens." To her dismay, Jane found herself walking down the hall to English with Lucy by her side, still talking, talking, talking.

I loved going up the staircase, so that was where my books were kept. I didn’t expect it to still be there—I was just curious what was—but I was shocked to find it fully stocked. The young adult novels still sat, but the collection had expanded to two shelves. Classics from Charlotte Brontë and Jane Austen, the entire Harry Potter series, and many others lined up together. One in particular caught my eye—La Belle et la Bête by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve. The origin of the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale.

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I reply before our lips touch. The end. Thank you for reading this novel. I hope you liked it. If you enjoyed it, I invite you to check out these other novels here in the app: Married to the Mafia Flowers for Olivia Between the Mobster and the CEO You can find more information about these books on my I* page @ninastoriesgn

The specific and particular history of people who had been present at large events and had not been the people the large events were usually said to be about. She read novels. The novels were harder to characterize. They were not genre novels and not literary novels in the specific and self-conscious way of novels that were aware of being literary. They were simply good novels, or what appeared, from the evidence of the way she held them, the specific and attentive quality of a woman who was genuinely inside a book rather than processing it, to be good novels. She had read one I recognized. She had read several I did not.

I ignored them and walked on by. Turning the corner, I strode to the library’s double doors across from the staircase without running into another soul. I was in desperate need of distraction. Books to the rescue. The library flared to life as I entered. Wall sconces lit, and the hearth awoke. I replaced the books I’d borrowed to their empty spots, then moved to a different section. Scanning the titles, I found and pulled out a couple of classics I’d been meaning to read forever. The first was The Three Musketeers, and the other was Pride and Prejudice. I hoped at least one of them held my attention enough to get lost in.

"Like reading. I already know you're a bookworm, Ruby." Ruby's eyes lit up instantly, her inner literary critic emerging. "Oh, so the billionaire remembers? Please don't tell me your reading list is just boring finance textbooks and business biographies." "Actually," I leaned in a fraction of an inch, a teasing glint in my eyes, "I prefer classic literature. Russian realism, psychological thrillers. Dostoyevsky, Fitzgerald, Hemingway. I like substance."

“I know what you mean. I had one too—it was a family outing for us, going to the library. My mom insisted my brother and I read books if we wanted to play video games. I was that nerdy kid who actually preferred reading to gaming. I guess it carried over into adulthood.” Fiona’s gaze focused on his face, and one side of her mouth smirked. “Nothing wrong with that.” Handing the book back to him, she continued to investigate the books lining the shelves. “Do you have a favorite in here or in one of the boxes?” Chris chuckled. “Well, having a degree in English Literature, you’d think so. But I love so many of them. I’m partial to the classics—Keats and Shelley, Lord Byron, Shakespeare…”