Joca

Divno...

"Toliko je prijatna stvar ziveti bez razuma da se ljudi vise mole za oslobodjenje od svega drugog samo ne od Ludosti." (nr) Erazmo Roterdamski, Pohvala ludosti ..konza

Ej, ajde javi valja li cemu? An Elegy On the Death of A Mad Dog Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there lived a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes And in that town a dog was found: As many dogs there be-- Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree. This dog and man at first were friends; But, when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends, Went mad, and bit the man. Around from all the neighbouring streets The wondering neighbours ran; And swore the dog had lost his wits, To bite so good a man. The wound it seem'd both sore and sad To every christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die But soon a wonder came to light, That show'd the rogues they lied-- The man recover'd of the bite; The dog it was that died.

evo ovde imas prvih pet knjiga Alvina Mejkera: http://www.greylib.align.ru/libfan.htm a ako nadjem pricu koja je, u stvari, pravi pocetak serijala, javljam

Ima jos 'nekoliko' nastavaka (jos 3 zvanicna, plus price, plus ender's shadow.. ) Inace, nastavci su, naravno, sve losiji i losiji.. Probaj Alvin Maker od OSC-a, mozda bi ti se svidelo prvih par knjiga iz serijala link: http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/c/orson-...card/index.html

Den Simons - Ilion

:respekt: baš sam računao koliko bi mi trebalo da iščitam kompletnu Kingovu bibliografiju.. verovatno oko 4-5 meseci kontinualnog rada sr Pomračenje, Dž. Banvil

Bogami - ovo ce da potraje.. nr Pomračenje, Džon Banvil

Ja to sve odstampao, pa sad lepo "na tenane" (sto rekose u jednom fanzinu) proucavam.. a jel se nekom svidja ovo mozda: http://www.robertmccammon.com/fiction/eat-me.html

"Reading Barry Yourgrau is addictive, like putting peanuts in your nose and they turn into spaceships or something." širimo sektu evo još jedne: http://alas.matf.bg.ac.yu/~af02107/ht.rtf

Barry Yourgrau - A Man Jumps Out of An Airplane (ssc) i Wearing Dad's Head (ssc) download: http://alas.matf.bg.ac.yu/~af02107/amjooaa.rar http://alas.matf.bg.ac.yu/~af02107/wdh.rtf

za FanteTa i za Barkera )

vrh! btw - dobro su zamislili ovaj sajt Sajma knjiga, ali im realizacija zamisljenog bas ne ide izgleda

Proradio sajt sajma @veronika - nr Sevkusic, Principi efikasne komunikacije u nastavi

eh, imam tri zbirke takvih nenormalnih prica od istog lika, al problem je sto o5 moras da blejis u monitor.. a stampac ne upraznjavas? bdk.. Picnic I drive with my parents for a picnic. We stop by a cliff. My father tells me to bring out the picnic basket. The wind lifts the lapel of his jacket. He looks at my mother wildly. He gives a hoarse, trembling moan. He clutches fumbling at her hand. My mother cries out and gapes at him as if stricken. Hand in hand the two of them clamber hurriedly out of the car and lumber towards the cliff and, screaming and shrieking, jump off. There is the brief, diminishing sound of their screams; then abruptly, nothing. I stand by the car, staring at the edge of the cliff. The wind flutters in my ears. After a while, I fearfully approach the cliff edge, and crouching timidly on my knees, I peer over it. My parents lie near each other on the rocks, like rag doll replicas of themselves. Their clasp has come undone. The waves splash over their shoes, up over their legs and hips. I crawl backwards several feet, and then rise. Back at the car there is a note pinned to the picnic basket. I look at it, but it means nothing to me, as I'm not old enough to read cursive script. I poke somberly through the contents of the picnic basket, most of which is beyond my taste. I open a bottle of pickled onions and sniff it with displeasure and put it aside. I find three slices of cake. I eat one and part of a second, and half of a pear, which I chew sitting in the open back seat of the car. Then for a while I just sit without moving, with the car blanket over my knees as I gaze at the cliff, listening to the sound of the waves coming in and the rustle of the wind. At length, slowly, the light begins to fade around me. I climb down stiffly out of the car. I stand beside it. After a long pause of hesitation, I turn, and start off back down the dirt road by which we'd come -- slowly at first, then with gradually rising haste, until my tottering steps are scrambling along through the evening's gathering shadows.

Ma, pedagogija.. z-lo.. A nesto ovako mozda: Childhood Memory My father comes into my room. "Look," he says. He carefully opens his hands; a luminous, gold-colored butterfly sits in the bowl of his palms, like a light he has carried into the dark room. I prop myself up on a hand in the pillows, gazing in awe. The butterfly remains still for a while; then it twitches its wings. We watch it flutter in a curving, luminescent course to the window, and then under the sash and out into the night. We go downstairs and noiselessly out the back door onto the dark lawn. My father points up at a tree: a halo flickers around its crown. In its topmost leaves a golden colony hovers. "They'll be there all night," says my father, his voice a whisper. I stand beside him in my pajamas, spellbound and feeling a strange, tranquil enchantment, as if the night had turned into my bedroom. "Where do they come from?" I ask my father. "From the moon," he says softly. We look at the moon. "At least," he says, "that's what I've always been told." Snow I go to the train station to meet my girlfriend. I am wearing all kinds of scarves against the weather. It is snowing. The train comes in but my girlfriend isn't on it. A conductor covered with snowballs informs me that my girlfriend has had plastic surgery without telling me, and the operation got fouled up, and now she's too ashamed ever to see me again. I go home, a multitude of ambivalences battling within me. I keep peering about for anyone swathed in bandages, in case she might have come out here secretly on the bus. At home, I remember the telephone in the freezer. I take it out. The surface of the receiver is brown and wilted, like old lettuce. But the inside will probably still be good. "She can use this to graft with," I think. I turn on the tap in the sink and begin carefully scraping off the outside of the receiver. The phone rings in my hands. I don't answer it, I want to surprise her. The ringing goes on a long time before stopping. I start to feel guilty. What if she really needed me? I lose heart with the surprise and finally wreck the good stuff by accidentally tearing off a piece. I go into the bathroom and begin tying knots in the scarves, out of despair. There is a knock at the front door. The train conductor comes in, dripping, and says, "Didn't you recognize me?"

..a kakve knjige/price volis? nr Zindovic-Vukadinovic, Vaspitni uticaj medija

od 4. do 8. razreda procitao oba dela nekih 5-6 puta.. biblija

u novinama pise da im je zvanicni sajt www.beogradskisajamknjiga.com ... al nesto ne radi.. enivejz, od utorka do ponedeljka..

Ja najverovatnije necu kupovati ni jedno ni drugo izdanje: ebook -> stampac -> piraterija rulz cuo sam da se mnogi zale na kraj celog serijala, ali otompotom(totom...)

Aha, ok, verovatno je taj IV deo knjiga za Sajam, samo malo poranila Ja sam stao na cetvrtom delu, i jos uvek ne mogu da se nateram da nastavim sa citanjem.. posle odlicne The Waste Lands, Wizard and Glass bas gushi.. nr - Vilijam Fokner, Buka i bes

BTW - Koliko je delova izašlo do sada kod nas? Jel najavljuju nove nastavke za Sajam?

Isusov zločin, Li Strobel

Ej, ajde pričajte još o ovome.. Ili dajte neku bibliografiju za dalje proučavanje

Zahvaljujem nr: Barry Yourgrau - Wearing Dad's Head (ssc)