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Этот канал для тех, кто изучает или просто любит английский.
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Story 18 Jan, 11:04
The Model Millionaire by Oscar Wilde

The Model Millionaire (1887) is the story about what happens to a poor man who gives his last coin to a beggar-in-disguise who is actually a rich baron. First published in The World newspaper in June, 1887.

Read 16 minutes
Story 11 Jan, 19:35
Зигмунд Фрейд, Иммануил Кант, Фридрих Ницше - какие эмоции вызывают у вас эти имена?

Все эти Великие личности представляют Немецкую философию, именно ту философию, которая заставляет человека переосмыслить свою жизнь и по-иному взглянуть на мир.

Подпишись на @deutschephilosophiee и погрузись во вселенную высказываний гениальных философов и писателей. С первых же строк они изменят призму твоего мышления.
Story 11 Jan, 14:24
​​Snowflakes. Louisa Campbell

It was Christmas the first time they made love; he said it felt like coming home. He bought her a silver bracelet with a chunky heart charm.
    He moved in to her house. She was good for him; they noticed the new positivity at work. He was good for her; she started writing again. That Christmas, he bought her a little silver typewriter charm.

    The next was a white Christmas. The snowflakes arrived like the cavalry in their trillions ('each one is different, you know'); blessing, caressing their street so that, instead of the patchwork tarmac road and narrow rickety block pavements, there was a soft, still river of glitter. No one could get their cars out. Oh the velvety peace! Silence, like that Christmas carol. Shoulders relaxed, everyone beamed at each other, drank the soft air into their lungs and just breathed. The roads belonged to the people again ('you can walk in the middle of the A21!'). He couldn't drive to work. Without a word, they both ran, slippily into the middle of the street in their black wellies, flump-scrunch, flump-scrunch and then they span, with their arms outstretched, him in his navy wool work coat, her in her emerald green duffel. Then she said, 'this is as free as flying...' and he understood. That Christmas, he gave her two silver filigree snowflake charms ('for that day').

    The next Christmas it didn't snow. He'd been promoted and he bought her house from the landlord for them. That year she had a perfect little silver house charm.
    The year after, he gave her driving lessons and a racing car charm ('because it's time you learnt').
    The following year, it must have snowed first, but she only remembered the ice; snow compacted, beaten down to glass. The pavements were suffocated by it; no-cigar scratch cards and empty fag packets encapsulated like long-dead creatures in amber. The people complained the council had not gritted the pavements ('and the council tax is extortionate'). She had to try and steady herself with bits of wall, railings, mittens sodden, fingers ice-bitten. She could no longer trust her legs, her feet sliding away from beneath her; trying not to look a fool and wondering, did she feel this much fear every time she fell as a child? That Christmas he'd been promoted again. He bought her a little silver pound sign ('sterling silver sterling: see? I can play with words, too!').

    They argued over a dog. She wanted paws in the house, eager eyes, something to cuddle. He saw picking up poo and having to drag out to the park in the cold. He was resolute. That Christmas, she had a silver dachshund charm ('and that's the only bloody dog you're getting').
    The following year she had a little silver high-heeled shoe. She didn't wear high-heeled shoes. She assumed his secretary had been sent out to shop for it. That was the last charm.
    The solicitor said she could not have the car, but she could have the house, the typewriter and the dog. The heart was mangled anyway, she no longer wanted that. All she really wanted was the snowflakes.
Story 10 Jan, 14:55
The Patient Cat
by Laura E. Richards

The Patient Cat was published in Ms. Richards' collection of morality tales and poems, The Pig Brother and Other Fables and Stories (1881). Is it always wise to wait? Timing is everything in this feline morality tale.

The Patient Cat -wHEN the spotted cat first found the nest, there was
nothing in it, for it was only just finished. So she said, “I will wait!” for she was a patient cat, and the summer was before her. She waited a week, and then she climbed up again to the top of the tree, and peeped into the nest. There lay two lovely blue eggs, smooth and shining.

The spotted cat said, “Eggs may be good, but young birds are better. I will wait.” So she waited; and while she was waiting, she caught mice and rats, and washed herself and slept, and did all that a spotted cat should do to pass the time away.

When another week had passed, she climbed the tree again and peeped into the[58] nest. This time there were five eggs. But the spotted cat said again, “Eggs may be good, but young birds are better. I will wait a little longer!”

So she waited a little longer and then went up again to look. Ah! there were five tiny birds, with big eyes and long necks, and yellow beaks wide open. Then the spotted cat sat down on the branch, and licked her nose and purred, for she was very happy. “It is worth while to be patient!” she said.

But when she looked again at the young birds, to see which one she should take first, she saw that they were very thin,—oh, very, very thin they were! The spotted cat had never seen anything so thin in her life.

“Now,” she said to herself, “if I were to wait only a few days longer, they would grow fat. Thin birds may be good, but fat birds are much better. I will wait!”

So she waited; and she watched the father-bird bringing worms all day long to the nest, and said, “Aha! they must be fattening fast! they will soon be as fat as I wish them to be. Aha! what a good thing it is to be patient.”

At last, one day she thought, “Surely, now they must be fat enough! I will not wait another day. Aha! how good they will be!”

So she climbed up the tree, licking her chops all the way and thinking of the fat young birds. And when she reached the top and looked into the nest, it was empty!!

Then the spotted cat sat down on the branch and spoke thus, “Well, of all the horrid, mean, ungrateful creatures I ever saw, those birds are the horridest, and the meanest, and the most ungrateful! Mi-a-u-ow!!!!”
Story 5 Jan, 11:00
Друзья, слышали про метод изучения английского по мемасам? Автор описывает его так:

Суть проста, читаешь мемы в оригинале и угараешь над ними, если не уловил суть, то читаешь перевод и словарный запас будет пополняться без каких-либо усилий. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Проверьте новый метод в действии —
Story 29 Dec, 17:59
Keeping Christmas by Henry van Dyke

Henry van Dyke was a member of the clergy, this story reads like a sermon for good reason. Its full title is A Short Christmas Sermon: Keeping Christmas. Van Dyke also composed lyrics to the popular hymn, "The Hymn of Joy" sung to Beethoven's Symphony No. 9, "Ode to Joy."

ROMANS, xiv, 6: He that regardeth the day, regardeth it unto the Lord.

It is a good thing to observe Christmas day. The mere marking of times and seasons, when men agree to stop work and make merry together, is a wise and wholesome custom. It helps one to feel the supremacy of the common life over the individual life. It reminds a man to set his own little watch, now and then, by the great clock of humanity which runs on sun time.

But there is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas.

Are you willing to forget what you have done for other people, and to remember what other people have done for you; to ignore what the world owes you, and to think what you owe the world; to put your rights in the background, and your duties in the middle distance, and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the foreground; to see that your fellow-men are just as real as you are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for joy; to own that probably the only good reason for your existence is not what you are going to get out of life, but what you are going to give to life; to close your book of complaints against the management of the universe, and look around you for a place where you can sow a few seeds of happiness--are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing to stoop down and consider the needs and the desires of little children; to remember the weakness and loneliness of people who are growing old; to stop asking how much your friends love you, and ask yourself whether you love them enough; to bear in mind the things that other people have to bear on their hearts; to try to understand what those who live in the same house with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you; to trim your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke, and to carry it in front so that your shadow will fall behind you; to make a grave for your ugly thoughts, and a garden for your kindly feelings, with the gate open--are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing to believe that love is the strongest thing in the world--stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death--and that the blessed life which began in Bethlehem nineteen hundred years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal Love? Then you can keep Christmas.

And if you keep it for a day, why not always?

But you can never keep it alone.
Story 28 Dec, 18:00
У этой книги есть чему поучиться. Потому что в ней интервью с людьми, которым есть что сказать. Не какие-нибудь дутые персоны, а действительно цвет нашей культуры!

Приобрести книгу:
Story 28 Dec, 17:14
Lines on Ale by Edgar Allan Poe

Poe may have written this poem at Washington Tavern in Lowell, Massachusetts in 1848 to pay his drinking tab. The original copy hung on the wall of the tavern until about 1920. What a shame, the tavern's been replaced by a Dunkin' Donuts.

Filled with mingled cream and amber,
I will drain that glass again.
Such hilarious visions clamber
Through the chamber of my brain.
Quaintest thoughts, queerest fancies
Come to life and fade away.
What care I how time advances;
I am drinking ale today.
Story 27 Dec, 17:58
The Little Thief in the Pantry

A Little Thief in the Pantry is in the collection A Christmas Hamper: A Volume of Pictures and Stories for Little Folks, published in 1889 by T. Nelson and Sons by various unattributed authors. It's a lesson about perspective, and a little girl's compassion for a mouse who learns the difference between stealing and giving. Most importantly, obey your mother!
"MOTHER dear,” said a little mouse one day, “I think the people in our house must be very kind; don’t you? They leave such nice things for us in the larder.”

There was a twinkle in the mother’s eye as she replied,—

“Well, my child, no doubt they are very well in their way, but I don’t think they are quite as fond of us as you seem to think. Now remember, Greywhiskers, I have absolutely forbidden you to put your nose above the ground unless I am with you, for kind as the people are, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if they tried to catch you.”

Greywhiskers twitched his tail with scorn; he was quite sure he knew how to take care of himself, and he didn’t mean to trot meekly after his mother’s tail all his life. So as soon as she had curled herself up for an afternoon nap he stole away, and scampered across the pantry shelves.

Ah! here was something particularly good to-day. A large iced cake stood far back upon the shelf, and Greywhiskers licked his lips as he sniffed it. Across the top of the cake there were words written in pink sugar; but as Greywhiskers could not read, he did not know that he was nibbling at little Miss Ethel’s birthday cake. But he did feel a little guilty when he heard his mother calling. Off he ran, and was back in the nest again by the time his mother had finished rubbing her eyes after her nap.

She took Greywhiskers up to the pantry then, and when she saw the hole in the cake she seemed a little annoyed.

“Some mouse has evidently been here before us,” she said, but of course she never guessed that it was her own little son.

The next day the naughty little mouse again popped up to the pantry when his mother was asleep; but at first he could find nothing at all to eat, though there was a most delicious smell of toasted cheese.

Presently he found a dear little wooden house, and there hung the cheese, just inside it.

In ran Greywhiskers, but, oh! “click” went the little wooden house, and mousie was caught fast in a trap.

When the morning came, the cook, who had set the trap, lifted it from the shelf, and then called a pretty little girl to come and see the thief who had eaten her cake.

“What are you going to do with him?” asked Ethel.
“Why, drown him, my dear, to be sure.”
The tears came into the little girl’s pretty blue eyes.
“You didn’t know it was stealing, did you, mousie dear?” she said.
“No,” squeaked Greywhiskers sadly; “indeed I didn’t.”

Cook’s back was turned for a moment, and in that moment tender-hearted little Ethel lifted the lid of the trap, and out popped mousie.

Oh! how quickly he ran home to his mother, and how she comforted and petted him until he began to forget his fright; and then she made him promise never to disobey her again, and you may be sure he never did.
Story 26 Dec, 18:00
Друзья, совсем скоро наступит новый год, рекомендуем начать его с новой цели. Для чего вы учите английский язык? Хотите учиться/работать за границей или получить повышение на работе? В таком случае, советуем вам в новом году поставить себе цель сдать языковой экзамен IELTS, который откроет перед вами множество дверей.

Осуществить такую амбициозную цель вам поможет онлайн-репетитор @ielts_tutorial. Автор канала разберет с вами советы от разработчиков экзамена, научит эффективным техникам речи, расскажет как написать эссе на 9.0 и поможет разобраться в структуре теста. 

Не откладывайте подготовку, подписывайтесь на
Story 26 Dec, 12:31
Christmas at Fezziwig's Warehouse
by Charles Dickens

Mr. Fezziwig is a character in Dickens' A Christmas Carol, in which he and his wife convert their place of business to a raucous Christmas Eve ball! For young children's benefit, a charming vignette (or rather, pirouette?).

"Yo Ho! my boys," said Fezziwig. "No more work to-night! Christmas Eve, Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up!" cried old Fezziwig with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say Jack Robinson. . . ."

"Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high desk with wonderful agility. "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Cheer-up, Ebenezer!"

Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life forevermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ballroom as you would desire to see on a winter's night.

In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to the lofty desk and made an orchestra of it and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Misses Fezziwig, beaming and lovable. In came the six followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the business. In came the housemaid with her cousin the baker. In came the cook with her brother's particular friend the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his master, trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping, old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them.

When this result was brought about the fiddler struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too, with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pairs of partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who would dance and had no notion of walking.

But if they had been thrice as many--oh, four times as many--old Fezziwig would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that's not high praise, tell me higher and I'll use it. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the dance like moons. You couldn't have predicted at any given time what would become of them next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance, advance and retire; both hands to your partner, bow and courtesy, corkscrew, thread the needle, and back again to your place; Fezziwig "cut"--cut so deftly that he appeared to wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again with a stagger.

When the clock struck eleven the domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the door, and shaking hands with every person individually, as he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas!
Story 25 Dec, 17:01
A Letter from Santa Claus
by Mark Twain

Mark Twain wrote this letter to his 3 year old daughter from Santa Claus in 1875. You could say he was over the moon for her.
Palace of Saint Nicholas in the Moon Christmas Morning

My Dear Susy Clemens,

I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me . . . . I can read your and your baby sister's jagged and fantastic marks without any trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters--I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself--and kissed both of you, too . . . . But . . . there were . . . one or two small orders which I could not fill because we ran out of stock . . . .

There was a word or two in your mama's letter which . . . I took to be "a trunk full of doll's clothes." Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o'clock this morning to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to the door. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak-- otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse's bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle through it you must speak in the tube and say, "Welcome, Santa Claus!" Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you what color you want the trunk to be . . . and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you want the trunk to contain. Then when I say "Good-by and a merry Christmas to my little Susy Clemens," you must say "Good-by, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much." Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the hall--if it is a trunk you want--because I couldn't get such a thing as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know . . . .If I should leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I haven't time to do such things. George must not use a broom, but a rag--else he will die someday . . . . If my boot should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and someone points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus's boot made on the marble, what will you say, little sweetheart?
Story 23 Dec, 16:20
❗️Важное сообщение❗️

Подписчикам нашего канала открыли доступ в закрытое сообщество, где учат Английский по тестам.

Место, куда не попасть без личного приглашения!

Подпишись, и ты убедишься, что английский может быть очень ПРИЯТНЫМ и ПОЛЕЗНЫМ!

Переходи 👉
Story 23 Dec, 16:20
The Elves and The Shoemaker by The Brothers Grimm

The Brothers Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm, were German academics, philologists, cultural researchers, lexicographers and authors who together collected and published folklore during the 19th century. They were among the first and best-known collectors of folk tales, and popularized traditional oral tale types such as "Cinderella", "The Frog Prince", "The Goose-Girl", "Hansel and Gretel", "Rapunzel", "Rumpelstiltskin", "Sleeping Beauty", and "Snow White". Their classic collection Children's and Household Tales, was published in two volumes, in 1812 and in 1815.

Read 10 minutes
Story 21 Dec, 15:53
​​Look at these peculiar wristwatches!

Магазин уже почти десятилетие собирает по всему миру коллекцию необычных дизайнерских часов, призванных удивлять и подчеркивать индивидуальность своего владельца. Порадуйте себя чем-то по-настоящему уникальным или подарите новый опыт своим близким - ведь скоро Новый год, время интересных и запоминающихся подарков 😉

Посмотреть на часы можно здесь:

Приобщиться к миру дизайнерских часов:
Story 21 Dec, 11:27
The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen

Hans Christian Andersen (2 April 1805 – 4 August 1875) was a Danish author. Although a prolific writer of plays, travelogues, novels, and poems, Andersen is best remembered for his fairy tales. Andersen's popularity is not limited to children: his stories express themes that transcend age and nationality.

Andersen's fairy tales, of which no fewer than 3381 works have been translated into more than 125 languages, have become culturally embedded in the West's collective consciousness, readily accessible to children, but presenting lessons of virtue and resilience in the face of adversity for mature readers as well.

Read 9 minutes
Story 18 Dec, 10:00
Мир не стоит на месте. Каждый день технический прогресс делает нашу жизнь лучше. Беспилотные автомобили, искусственный интеллект, нейронные сети и многое другое.

Канал @daily_breaking собирает наиболее интересные и важные новости из мира технологий ежедневно.

Подписывайетесь на
Story 18 Dec, 09:45
Berenice by Edgar Allan Poe

Read 25 minutes
Story 17 Dec, 22:32
The Man In The Moon by L. Frank Baum

Lyman Frank Baum (May 15, 1856 – May 6, 1919) was an American author chiefly famous for his children's books, particularly The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and its sequels. He wrote a total of 14 novels in the Oz series, plus 41 other novels, 83 short stories, over 200 poems, and at least 42 scripts. He made numerous attempts to bring his works to the stage and the nascent medium of film; the 1939 adaptation of the first Oz book would become a landmark of 20th-century cinema. His works anticipated such century-later commonplaces as television, augmented reality, laptop computers (The Master Key), wireless telephones (Tik-Tok of Oz), women in high-risk and action-heavy occupations (Mary Louise in the Country), police corruption and false evidence (Phoebe Daring), and the ubiquity of advertising on clothing (Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work).

Read 15 minutes
Story 13 Dec, 11:42
​​Мечтаете научиться рисовать? Или уже рисуете, но понимаете, что совершенству нет предела? Тогда этот канал вам понравится 👇🏻

@hudozhnik_online - это бесплатные уроки по акварели, скетчингу, рисунку, пастели и масляной живописи, а еще - полезные советы начинающим художникам, обзоры полезных книг, великие картины и вдохновляющие цитаты 🎨