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  1. THE BOARD ROOM

    1. Welcome to BGO!

      Find out more about Book Group Online, learn how to use the board and say hello!

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      The place for discussions about BGO and its operation. Suggestions welcome!

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    3. Site News & Support

      This forum is for general announcements and any tips or questions about the site.

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  2. GENERAL FICTION

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      This is the place to discuss general book-related matters.

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    6. Writers' Corner

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  3. FICTION GENRES

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  4. NON-FICTION

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    6. Life, The Universe & Everything

      This forum covers humanity, nature and all forms of science.

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  5. CHILDREN & YOUNG ADULTS

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    2. Read To

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  6. BGO GROUP READS

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      Current talking points, suggestions and votes.

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    6. Crossing to Safety - Wallace Stegner

      The secong group read of 2014

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    7. Book Group Archive

      This is an archive of all the discussions from earlier book group choices.

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  7. ANYTHING BUT BOOKS

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  8. SUBSCRIBERS' AREA

    1. Subscribers' Offers

      Occasionally we are given special offers for promotional purposes. These offers are usually restricted to our Subscribers and posted here, with thanks for their support of the board.

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  • Posts

    •     XXI
      It was no mouse, but lo! a monk, array'd
           In cowl and beads and dusky garb, appear'd,
      Now in the moonlight, and now lapsed in shade,
           With steps that trod as heavy, yet unheard;
      His garments only a slight murmur made;
           He moved as shadowy as the sisters weird,
      But slowly; and as he pass'd Juan by,
      Glanced, without pausing, on him a bright eye.

           XXII
      Juan was petrified; he had heard a hint
           Of such a spirit in these halls of old,
      But thought, like most men, there was nothing in 't
           Beyond the rumour which such spots unfold,
      Coin'd from surviving superstition's mint,
           Which passes ghosts in currency like gold,
      But rarely seen, like gold compared with paper.
      And did he see this? or was it a vapour?   Lord Byron, Don Juan (from canto XVI)
    • Dragon Teeth - Michael Crichton (I cheated)
    •     Let's sit and set things straight now, hip to haunch. Here's spring come, and the nights one makes up bands To roam the town and sing out carnival, And I've been three weeks shut within my mew, A-painting for the great man, saints and saints And saints again. I could not paint all night— Ouf! I leaned out of window for fresh air. There came a hurry of feet and little feet, A sweep of lute strings, laughs, and whifts of song,  -- Flower o' the broom, Take away love, and our earth is a tomb! Flower o' the quince. I let Lisa go, and what good is life since? Flower o' the thyme — and so on. Round they went. Scarce had they turned the corner when a titter Like the skipping of rabbits by moonlight,—three slim shapes, And a face that looked up . . . zooks, sir, flesh and blood, That's all I'm made of! Into shreds it went, Curtain and counterpane and coverlet, All the bed-furniture—a dozen knots, There was a ladder! Down I let myself, Hands and feet, scrambling somehow, and so dropped, And after them. I came up with the fun Hard by Saint Laurence hail fellow, well met,— Flower o' the rose, If i've been merry, what matter who knows? And so as I was stealing back again To get to bed and have a bit of sleep Ere I rise up to-morrow and go work On Jerome knocking at his poor old breast With his great round stone to subdue the flesh, You snap me of the sudden. Ah, I see! Though your eye twinkles still, you shake your head— Mine's shaved—a monk, you say—the sting 's in that! If Master Cosimo announced himself, Mum's the word naturally; but a monk!     From Fra Lippo Lippi by Robert Browning
    • Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under,
      Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss;
      Who, therefore angry, seems to part in sunder,
      Swelling on either side to want his bliss;
      Between whose hills her head entombed is:
      Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies,
      To be admired of lewd unhallow'd eyes.   Without the bed her other fair hand was,
      On the green coverlet; whose perfect white
      Show'd like an April daisy on the grass,
      With pearly sweat, resembling dew of night.
      Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheathed their light,
      And canopied in darkness sweetly lay,
      Till they might open to adorn the day.   From: Shakespeare, The Rape of Lucrece
    • “Summer is coming, summer is coming.   I know it, I know it, I know it. Light again, leaf again, life again, love again.”   Yes, my wild little Poet.   Sing the new year in under the blue.          Last year you sang it as gladly. “New, new, new, new!” Is it then so new   That you should carol so madly?   “Love again, song again, nest again, young again,”   Never a prophet so crazy!        And hardly a daisy as yet, little friend,   See, there is hardly a daisy.   “Here again, here, here, here, happy year!”   Oh, warble unchidden, unbidden! Summer is coming, is coming, my dear,          And all the winters are hidden.   Alfred, Lord Tennyson - 'The Throstle'  
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