These are a few books I've found important especially "The IMPORTANCE OF LIVING” by LIN U TANG a ZEN book this is an important read have patience with your self open it up anywhere it will grab your intellect the rewards are immense
Silent Spring...Carol Carson
Brave New World.....A Huxley
Island.......A. Huxley
Stranger in a Strange Land.....Ayn Rand
The IMPORTANCE OF LIVING "by LIN U TANG
The Tribe That Lost Is Head.....
Earth a FRENCH NOVEL 19TH CENTURY LAND AND GREED .... Emile Zola
Coming up for air..............George Orwell
1984...........George Orwell
Animal Farm...........George Orwell
Down And Out In London And Paris.........George Orwell
The Whole Earth Cataloge
The Ragged Trousered Philanthopists...Robert Tressell
The Hidden Persuaders....VancePackard
The Waste Makers.......VancePackard
The Isecure Offenders...T,R.Fyvel
Mien Kampf.....A Hitler
The Scourge Of The Swastika... B Russel
The Hobbit...J.R.R.Tolkien
The Human Zoo...Desmond Morris
The Naked Ape......Desmond Morris
Brighton Rock ...Graham Greene
Our Man In Havana....Graham Greene
Hard Rain Falling....Don Crpenter
Business In The Rain Forests ...C B Mackerrpn
Primitive Government ..Lucy Mair
The Scientific Analysis Of Personality.. R B Cattell
World Health... F Brockington
Archbold: Criminal Pleading, Evidence and Practice
COMING UP FOR AIR ...G .Orwell
The idea really came to me the day I got my new false teeth.
I remember the morning well. At about a quarter to eight I’d nipped out of bed and got into the bathroom just in time to shut the kids out. It was a beastly January morning, with a dirty yellowish-grey sky. Down below, out of the little square of bathroom window, I could see
the ten yards by five of grass, with a privet hedge round it
and a bare patch in the middle, that we call the back garden. There’s the same back garden, same privets and same grass, behind every house in Ellesmere Road. Only difference—where there are no kids there’s no bare patch in the middle.
I was trying to shave with a bluntish razor-blade while the water ran
into the bath. My face looked back at me out of the mirror, and underneath, in a tumbler of water on the little shelf over the washbasin, the teeth that belonged in the face. It was the temporary set that Warner, my dentist, had given me to wear while the new ones were being made. I haven’t such a bad face, really. It’s one of those bricky-red faces that go with butter-coloured hair and pale-blue eyes. I’ve never gone grey or bald, thank God, and when I’ve got my teeth in I probably don’t look my age, which is forty-five.
Making a mental’note to buy razor-blades, I got into the bath and started soaping. I soaped my arms (I’ve got those kind of pudgy arms that are freckled,up to the elbow) and then took the back-bmsh and soaped my shoulder-blades, which in the ordinary way I can’t reach. It’s a nuisance, but
nice little read a good intro to Mr. Blair
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