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The Other Woman - story
Sherwood Anderson
“I am in love with my wife,” he said–a superfluous remark, as I had not questioned his attachment to the woman he had married. We walked for ten minutes and then he said it again….
The Fisherman and His Soul - story
Oscar Wilde
Every evening the young Fisherman went out upon the sea, and threw his nets into the water. When the wind blew from the land he caught nothing, or but little at best, for it…
Romance with a Double Bass - story
Anton Chekhov
The musician Bowzinsky was walking from town to the country house of Prince Bibulov, where an evening of music and dance was to “take place,” as they say, for an engagement party. On his back…
An Anarchist - story
Joseph Conrad
That year I spent the best two months of the dry season on one of the estates – in fact, on the principal cattle estate of a famous meat-extract manufacturing company. B.O.S bos. You have seen the three magic letters…
Haircut - story
Ring Lardner
I got another barber that comes over from Carterville and helps me out Saturdays, but the rest of the time I can get along all right alone. You can see for yourself that this ain’t…
A Novel in Nine Letters - story
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
I (From Pyotr Ivanitch To Ivan Petrovitch) Dear Sir and Most Precious Friend, Ivan Petrovitch, For the last two days I have been, I may say, in pursuit of you, my friend, having to talk…
The Cold - story
Ryūnosuke Akutagawa
One morning, after a fall of snow. Yasukichi sat on a chair in the physics teachers’ lounge, watching the flames in the heating stove. The flames licked up yellow one moment, then fell to sooty…
Odour of Chrysanthemums - story
D.H. Lawrence
I The small locomotive engine, Number 4, came clanking, stumbling down from Selston—with seven full waggons. It appeared round the corner with loud threats of speed, but the colt that it startled from among…
The Emperor Franz Joseph’s Portrait - story
Jaroslav Hašek
In Mladá Boleslav there lived a stationer called Petiška. He was a man who respected the law and had lived, for longer than anyone could remember, across the road from the barracks. On the Emperor’s…
The Purloined Letter - story
Edgar Allan Poe
Nil sapientiae odiosius acumine nimio. Seneca. At Paris, just after dark one gusty evening in the autumn of 18–, I was enjoying the twofold luxury of meditation and a meerschaum, in company with…
