This, to use an American term in which discovery, retribution, torture, death, eternity appear in the shape of a singularly repulsive nutshell, was it.
This, and much more, she accepted - for after all living did mean acceptingthe loss of one joy after another, not even joys in her case - merepossibilities of improvement. She thought of the endless w...
There, tam, la-bas, the gaze of men glows with inimitable understanding; there the freaks that are tortured here walk unmolested; there time takes shape according to one’s pleasure, like a figured rug...
There was a sudden sunburst in my head. And then black night. That blackness was sublime. I felt distributed through space and time: One foot upon a mountaintop, one hand 150 Under the pebbles of a p...
There is nothing louder than an American hotel; and, mind you, this was supposed to be a quiet, cozy, old-fashioned, homey place - 'gracious living' and all that stuff.
There is nothing dictators hate so much as that unassailable, eternally elusive, eternally provoking gleam. One of the main reasons why the very gallant Russian poet Gumilev was put to death by Lenin'...
There is also a keen pleasure (and after all, what else should the pursuit of science produce?) in meeting the riddle of the initial blossoming of man's mind by postulating a voluptuous pause in the g...
The spiral is a spiritualized circle. In the spiral form, the circle, uncoiled, has ceased to be vicious; it has been set free.
The lovely thing about humanity is that at times one may be unaware of doing right, but one is always aware of doing wrong.
The contemplation of beauty, whether it be a uniquely tinted sunset, a radiant face, or a work of art, makes us glance back unwittingly at our personal past and juxtapose ourselves and our inner being...
Ta cała psychiatria to nic innego, jak tylko swoisty mikrokosmos komunizmu [...]. Lepiej by zostawili ludziom ich kłopoty osobiste. Nasuwa się bowiem pytanie, czy kłopoty nie są jedyną rzeczą na świec...
Stirless, I stand at the window,and in the black bowl of the sky
Some people - and I am one of them - hate happy ends. We feel cheated. Harm is the norm. Doom should not jam. The avalanche stopping in its tracks a few feet above the cowering village behaves not onl...
She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.
She had spent all her life in feeling miserable; this misery was her native element; its fluctuations, its varying depths, alone save her the impression of moving and living. What bothers me is that a...
Shall we take these candles with us and sit for a while on the piazza, or do you want to go to bed and nurse that tooth?Nurse that tooth.
Resemblances are the shadows of differences. Different people see different similarities and similar differences.
Poor L.We are sorry that you left so soon. We are even sorrier to have inveigled our Esmeralda and mermaid into a naughty prank. That sort of game will never again be played with you, firebird. We apo...
Our life together was alliterative, and when I think of all the little things which will die, now that we cannot share them, I feel as if we were dead too. And perhaps we are. You see, the greater our...
One night between sunset and riverOn the old bridge we stood, you and I.Will you ever forget it, I queried,- That particular swift that went by?And you answered, so earnestly: Never!And what sobs made...