I really knew nothing about her, blinded as I was by that burning loveliness which replaces everything else and justifies everything
I lied as a nightingale sings, ecstatically, self-obliviously; reveling in the new life-harmony which I was creating.
I do not want, John. You know I do not understand what is advertisement and what is not advertisement.
He must be always on his guard and devote every minute and module of life to the decoding of the undulation of things. The very air he exhales is indexed and filed away. If only the interest he provok...
Forget me now, but remember me afterwards, when the bitter part is forgotten. This
For me a work of fiction exists only insofar as it affords me what I shall bluntly call aesthetic bliss, that is a sense of being somehow, somewhere, connected with other states of being where art (cu...
Direct interference in a person's life does not enter our scope of activity, nor, on the other, tralatitiously speaking, hand, is his destiny a chain of predeterminate links: some future events may be...
Comme un fou se croit Dieu, nous nous croyons mortels.
By God, I could make myself bring her that economically halved grapefruit, that sugarless breakfast.
Before his and Pushkin's advent Russian literature was purblind. What form it perceived was an outline directed by reason: it did not see color for itself but merely used the hackneyed combinations of...
And the rest is rust and stardust.
And I want to rise up, throw my arms open for a vast embrace, address an ample, luminous discourse to the invisible crowds. I would start like this: O rainbow-colored gods. . .
Memory can restore to life everything except smells, although nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it.
Making klv zdB AoyvBno wkh gwzxm dqg kzwAAqvo a gwttp vq wjfhm Ada in natural bower of aspens xliC mujzikml.
و هیچکس واقعا کسی را دوست ندارد.
Existence is a series of footnotes to a vast, obscure, unfinished masterpiece.
Él me destrozó el corazón. Tú destrozaste mi vida.
That is his head, containing a brain of a different brand than that of the synthetic jellies preserved in the skulls around him
Do what only a true artist can do ... pounce upon the forgotten butterfly of revelation
[Il buon lettore] non appartiene a una nazione o a una classe specifica. Non c'è direttore di coscienza o club del libro che possa gestire la sua anima. Il suo modo d'accostarsi a un'opera di narrativ...