Books with title Charles Rex

A beautiful new edition of the award-winning biography of world-famous musician Ray Charles. As a young boy he fell in love with music, and as a man, the world fell in love with his music. Ray Charles and his soulful, passionate rhythm and melodies have been embraced around the globe for decades. Now, in this beautiful new edition of the award-winning biography, readers can follow Charles from his boyhood, when he lost his sight completely and learned to read and write music in Braille, until the age of 40, when he had become a world-renowned jazz and blues musician. In a new introduction, the author updates Charles' life to the present day.

The tragedy of Charles I dominates one of the most strange and painful periods in British history as the whole island tore itself apart over a deadly, entangled series of religious and political disputes. In Mark Kishlansky's brilliant account it is never in doubt that Charles created his own catastrophe, but he was nonetheless opposed by men with far fewer scruples and less consistency who for often quite contradictory reasons conspired to destroy him. This is a remarkable portrait of one of the most talented, thoughtful, loyal, moral, artistically alert and yet, somehow, disastrous of all this country's rulers.

The acclaimed Penguin Monarchs series: short, fresh, expert accounts of England's rulers - now in paperbackThe tragedy of Charles I dominates one of the most strange and painful periods in British history as the whole island tore itself apart over a deadly, entangled series of religious and political disputes. In Mark Kishlansky's brilliant account it is never in doubt that Charles created his own catastrophe, but he was nonetheless opposed by men with far fewer scruples and less consistency who for often quite contradictory reasons conspired to destroy him. This is a remarkable portrait of one of the most talented, thoughtful, loyal, moral, artistically alert and yet, somehow, disastrous of all this country's rulers.

When half-gods go, the gods arrive. R. W. Emerson. Not with the clash of trumpets And clangour of gates thrown wide, As when the eager crowds press round To see the half-gods ride; But like a bird at even Silently winging home, A message came from the darkness To say that the gods had come. And the half-gods scoffed in the temple Which custom had bid them hold Sin and Success and Pleasure And the hideous I mage of Gold. Who and what are these strangers? Bid them worship before the shrine Where we, the gods of the new world. Sit oer the cards and wine! So they derided the strangers Those gods whom the old folk call Courage and Honour and Faithfulness And Love which is greater than all. But when the night was over And the new day pierced within, The half-gods were gone from the temple, And the gods had entered in.(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)About the Publisher Forgotten Books is a publisher of historical writings, such as: Philosophy, Classics, Science, Religion, History, Folklore and Mythology.Forgotten Books' Classic Reprint Series utilizes the latest technology to regenerate facsimiles of historically important writings. Careful attention has been made to accurately preserve the original format of each page whilst digitally enhancing the aged text. Read books online for free at

A young girl finds a lost baby crow and brings him home to recover and grow stronger. She names him Charles after the sounds that he makes when they are together. Throughout the beautiful summer days they share breakfasts of cooked cereal or eggs every morning before heading out to see the world outside. And they especially enjoy when it is time to pick the fresh, sweet strawberries from the garden - with a few sweet bites to share before heading home again. And then one day Charles starts to take flight to the tree at the edge of the property. The girl and her family know that it will only be a matter of time before Charles goes back to his true home amongst the trees and birds in the forest. But memories of their summer friendship - and especially of those sweet delicious strawberries - will remain.

I shall go to sea to-morrow, said Saltash, with sudden decision. "I'm tired of this place, Larpent, - fed up on repletion." "Then by all means let us go, my lord!" said Larpent, with the faint glimmer of a smile behind his beard, which was the only expression of humour he ever permitted himself. "Believe you're fed up too," said Saltash, flashing a critical look upon him. Captain Larpent said nothing, deeming speech unnecessary. All time spent ashore was wasted in his opinion. Saltash turned and surveyed the sky-line over the yacht's rail with obvious discontent on his ugly face. His eyes were odd, one black, one grey, giving a curiously unstable appearance to a countenance which otherwise might have claimed to possess some strength. His brows were black and deeply marked. He had a trick of moving them in conjunction with his thoughts so that his face was seldom in absolute repose. It was said that there was a strain of royal blood in Saltash, and in the days before he had succeeded to the title when he had been merely Charles Burchester, he had borne the nickname of "the merry monarch."