Khoa Học Vui - Thế Giới Thực Vật EPub tải xuống miễn phí

Jon Loer jloer4b52 — ** spoiler alert ** I enjoyed Lord Henry's quips about life more than I liked the story itself. The book didn't really start until chapter eight. Eighty percent of the book is Lord Henry's philosophies and witty commentary. Any moment of suspense I had faded away after a few pages. I don't believe this is one of Oscar Wilde's best, but I still enjoyed reading it. If you are looking for the story, it can be explained in two run-on sentences. Dorian Gray was a vain young man who inadvertently wished himself into being youthful, and his picture into baring the burden of his age and sin. After years of what was obviously procrastination, he finally destroyed the picture he'd hidden from the world for fifteen to twenty years which broke the "curse" (for lack of better word) and killed him. The book is a good read but not a good story.

Steven Coeckelberghs _teven_oeckelberghs — It's hard to find a good book on prayer these days. Jeremiah wrote a gem, and this causes you to dig deep into and examine how your own prayer life is doing. It did that for me. It's a moving book that is not filled with mechanical how-to's, but gave me a vision for prayer and how I can take it to the next level. Jeremiah goes into detail, line by line, about the Lord's prayer. Powerful. Then he examines Jesus' prayer in John 17 and opens that up. In the end, he explains how we can start a journal that gives us a history of God at work in our lives. It's a book on prayer, but so much deeper. I started it over the day I finished it. There is so much I need to absorb and apply to my life.

Andres Sanchez cansanmuf107 — The novel opens with "The past is never dead. It's not even past," words from Faulkner's Sound and the Fury (please correct this if I got the wrong book), and to an extent the novel is about the relationship between a mother living in rural Ireland and her cosmopolitan semi-famous novelist daughter who doesn't seem to have the time to visit. Beyond the geographical divide, O'Brien's novel is an exploration of the presentness of memory, it's ability to keep one rooted in the past while slipping through present moments without experiencing them, the danger of never breaking the pattern of repetition, the fear that one's memory is a lie. The novel is also an experiment in language as O'Brien takes cues from Faulkner, Flaubert, Joyce and others while shattering and maybe extending characteristics that have become archetypes of modernism. The work is lacunal, as it opens spaces of possible narrative, possible detail, yet never quite fills them and that seems to be her project. How can one write a novel of emptiness, about people who cannot speak to each other about the things they must resolve before death? O'Brien does this through blending epistolary prose with town gossip, deeply biting personal revelations, and anisthetic-induced dreamscapes, and by limiting the voices of external characters or filtering them through the two protagonists. The relationship between the mother and daughter is lived through the material gifts they send back and forth to each other, painstaking handiwork from the mother is exchanged for boutique bought ill-fitting articles of clothing from the daughter. Cloth is a trope for its connection to women's labor and its ability to veil bodies and truths. As a reader, one feels veiled like falling asleep during a movie and missing really crucial sections of the narrative. This feeling is persistant; just as the narrative flow picks up, one is flung into a new voice, in a new time period. It's difficulty is worthwhile for the gorgeous descriptions of the rural country and for the emotional impact the silences press into the reader. O'Brien creates a wonderful clash between folklore and modernity, pastoral and urban life, and past and present.