Böcker utgivna av Borgo Press

In this epic fantasy, Ralph of Upmeads embarks on a perilous quest to find the legendary Well at the World's End, a mystical source of eternal life and wisdom. Set in a richly detailed medieval world, Ralph faces numerous challenges and encounters magical creatures, treacherous villains, and powerful allies along the way. William Morris blends romance, adventure, and myth in this timeless tale of personal growth and the pursuit of a distant, unattainable goal.

One of the peculiarities of Bulwer was his passion for occult studies. They had a charm for him early in life, and he pursued them with the earnestness which characterized his pursuit of other studies. He became absorbed in wizard lore; he equipped himself with magical implements, -- with rods for transmitting influence, and crystal balls in which to discern coming scenes and persons; and communed with spiritualists and mediums. The fruit of these mystic studies is seen in _Zanoni_ and "A strange Story," romances which were a labor of love to the author, and into which he threw all the power he possessed, -- power re-enforced by multifarious reading and an instinctive appreciation of Oriental thought.A story of love and occult aspiration.

Wal is a dreamer: he imagines escaping from his parents by building a raft. His friend Billy is more practical. Together, they construct a makeshift craft, and sail it along the local sea coast. But Wal still dreams of adventure, and one dark night he sails into the teeth of a growing storm. In the wild hours that follow, he must find the strength to persevere--and survive! A great tale of storm and sea!

The Lodger was the basis for Alfred Hitchcock's first thriller, and a remarkable film it is. But the story Hitchcock tells -- of young love and mistaken identity (and is that a mistake, or malicious accusation by a rival. . . ?) -- is very different from Lowndes's tale.

The Great War is over, and jobs are scarce. Tommy Beresford and Prudence "Tuppence" Cowley meet and agree to start their own business as The Young Adventurers. They are hired for a job that leads them both to many dangerous situations, meeting allies as well, including an American millionaire in search of his cousin. It started with the sinking of the Lusitania. . . . An American, carrying secret papers, placed them in the care of a young American woman. She was to carry them to England, and advertise for the American: if he did not answer her ad, she should assume he was lost, and place the papers in the hands of the American Ambassador. The American survived, thank God. But the girl whom he entrusted disappeared before she could advertise for him. The papers she carried are lost -- and even now, five years later, the fate of England's postwar recovery depends upon them. . . .

The problem was traitors in high places: traitors secretly opposing his methods and playing the spy for the enemy. All depended on secrecy and unity of action. And then a young British officer made a moronic blunder, and gave the plotters their chance to upset the delicate balance. Their influence caused the Portuguese Council of Regency to demand that the culprit be made a scapegoat. He was at large -- and the man responsible for his capture and execution was his own brother-in-law, Sir Terrence Amoy. Amoy, British adjutant-general at Lisbon.

Captain Arthur Hastings, Poirot's cohort, is recovering from a war injury at the upper-class household known as Styles Court. When the mistress of the manor, Emily Inglethorpe, is murdered. The family members occupying the house all become suspects -- including her newlywed young husband. Hercule Poirot faces a Sherlock Holmes-style mystery -- complete with numerous suspects, a sheaf of seemingly misleading clues, and lots of intrigue. Poirot's keen logic and impressive sleuthing skills display themselves well, here; it's little wonder that he came to dominate Agatha Christie's career.Hercule Poirot's first adventure!

"As far as the chief business of his life--his writing--was concerned, Paul Oleron treated the world a good deal better than he was treated by it; but he seldom took the trouble to strike a balance, or to compute how far, at forty-four years of age, he was behind his points on the handicap. To have done so wouldn't have altered matters, and it might have depressed Oleron. He had chosen his path, and was committed to it beyond possibility of withdrawal. Perhaps he had chosen it in the days when he had been easily swayed by some thing a little disinterested, a little generous, a little noble and had he ever thought of questioning himself he would still have held to it that a life without nobility and generosity and disinterestedness was no life for him. Only quite recently and rarely, had he even vaguely suspected that there was more in it than this; but it was no good anticipating the day when, he supposed, he would reach that maximum point of his powers beyond which he must inevitably decline, and be left face to face with the question whether it would not have profited him better to have ruled his life by less exigent ideals."

It was an unlikely romance -- it started as a challenge from one of her scorned suitors: she was a woman, said the scorned one, who not even Bardelys the Magnificent could woo. Bardelys (called Magnificent for the fine quality of his hospoitality) tried to demur. It was madness, plain and simple. But them the rustic Gascon pointed out that it had become a matter of honor, and then there was no hope for it. All bad enoough -- and then the French Revolution intervened! O tempore! O more!

The year is 2137. Two hundred years ago -- in our time, more or less -- Eurasia fought a war to end all wars, a war that meant, for all intents and purposes, the end of the Old World. The Americas managed to retain their civilization -- but only by engaging by the most extreme form or isolationism imaginable for two centuries, now, no American has ventured east of the thirtieth parallel. "East for the East . . ." the slogan went, "The West for the West!" Until a terrible storm at sea forced American lieutenant Jefferson Turck to disobey the law, seeking safe harbor in England -- where he found that two centuries of isolation have desolated the land. The damaged ship found a Europe that is no longer an enemy -- a ruined land that is utterly unable to be an enemy -- or a friend.Burroughs imagines a future two centuries onward in which the western hemisphere severed contact with the rest of the world.

"They first became properly visible, these huge figures, just within the tops of the bushes -- immense, bronze-colored, moving, and wholly independent of the swaying of the branches. I saw them plainly and noted, now I came to examine them more calmly, that they were very much larger than human, and indeed that something in their appearance proclaimed them to be not human at all. Certainly they were not merely the moving tracery of the branches against the moonlight. They shifted independently. They rose upwards in a continuous stream from earth to sky, vanishing utterly as soon as they reached the dark of the sky. They were interlaced one with another, making a great column, and I saw their limbs and huge bodies melting in and out of each other, forming this serpentine line that bent and swayed and twisted spirally with the contortions of the wind-tossed trees. They were nude, fluid shapes, passing up the bushes, within the leaves almost - rising up in a living column into the heavens. Their faces I never could see. Unceasingly they poured upwards, swaying in great bending curves, with a hue of dull bronze upon their skins. . . . For the longer I looked the more certain I became that these figures were real and living, though perhaps not according to the standards that the camera and the biologist would insist upon.""The Willows" is an example of early modern horror and is connected within the literary tradition of weird fiction.

Lucian Taylor is damned - either through contact with an erotically pagan faerie world or through something degenerate in his own nature. He thinks of the damning thing inside him as a faun. He becomes a writer, and when he moves to London he becomes trapped by the increasing reality of the dark imaginings of this creature within him, which become increasingly real. The portrait of a doomed artist - a man not unlike Machen himself.

Morley was born in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania. His father, Frank Morley, was a mathematics professor at Haverford College; his mother, Lilian Janet Bird, was a violinist who provided Christopher with much of his later love for literature and poetry."I warn you," said the funny-looking little man with the red beard, "I?m here to sell this caravan of culture, and by the bones of Swinburne I think your brother's the man to buy it."

Weird Tales has always been the most popular and sought-after of all pulp magazines. Its mix of exotic fantasy, horror, science fiction, suspense, and the just plain indescribable has enthralled generations of readers throughout the world. Collected here are 13 of the best short stories published in Weird Tales' first year of publication, 1923 -- classics by many who would later play an integral part in the Unique Magazine, such as H.P. Lovecraft, Frank Owen, and Farnsworth Wright.

LeBlanc's creation, gentleman thief Arsene Lupin, is everything you would expect from a French aristocrat -- witty, charming, brilliant, sly . . . and possibly the greatest thief in the world.In this classic tale, Lupin comes up against the only man who may be able to stop him . . . no less than the great British gentleman-detective Herlock Sholmes! Who will emerge triumphant?This edition features a new introduction by literary critic and scholar Darrell Schweitzer.

I have no sort of objection now to telling the whole story. The subscribers, of course, have a right to know what became of their money. The astronomers may as well know all about it, before they announce any more asteroids with an enormous movement in declination. And experimenters on the longitude may as well know, so that they may act advisedly in attempting another brick moon or in refusing to do so. . . .