"Everything burns" – 323 rezultate
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SMStephenie Meyer
Stephenie Meyer\'s life changed dramatically on June 2, 2003. The stay-at-home mother of three young sons woke up from a dream featuring seemingly real characters that she could not get out of her head. \"Though I had a million things to do, I stayed in bed, thinking about the dream. Unwillingly, I eventually got up and did the immediate necessities, and then put everything that I possibly could on the back burner and sat down at the computer to write—something I hadn\'t done in so long that I wondered why I was bothering.\" Meyer invented the plot during the day through swim lessons and potty training, and wrote it out late at night when the house was quiet. Three months later she finished her first novel, Twilight. With encouragement from her older sister (the only other person who knew she had written a book), Meyer submitted her manuscript to various literary agencies. Twilight was picked out of a slush pile at Writer\'s House and eventually made its way to the publishing...
12 poezii, 0 proze
PMpostu marin
EVERYTHING IS POSTMARINISM! n. 15.09.1978 m. 15.09.2028 (?) www.postumarin.uv.ro
34 poezii, 0 proze
RDRadu Dumitrescu
Everything I think is golden - crystal, fucking beautiful shit, man. I am so fucking pure.
8 poezii, 0 proze
Eternity
"An expert is one who knows more and more about less and less until he knows absolutely everything about nothing"
2 poezii, 0 proze
RRadu
There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. Albert Einstein (1879-1955)
6 poezii, 0 proze
Gulambe Testa
facultatea de relatii inter-rasiale de la Capetown. liceul de arte din Capetown publicat volumul "Albastru si Negru", titlul original "fading everything to Black and Blue" - Capetown 1998
2 poezii, 0 proze
JKJohn Keats
John Keats was born on 31 October 1795 (probably), first child of Thomas Keats and Frances Jennings Keats, who had apparently eloped1. Everything was pretty ordinary for all concerned for a while--the Keatses had three more sons (George and Thomas, plus Edward who died as a baby) and one daughter, Frances, by 1803. That was also the year when John went away to school at Enfield. In 1804, John\'s father was killed in a fall from a horse. Just over two months later, for mysterious reasons, Frances remarried, to a London bank clerk named William Rawlings. Frances quickly decided she\'d made some sort of terrible error and left, taking nothing with her since the laws of the time decreed that all her property and even her children belonged to her husband. Frances\' mother, Alice, swept in and took custody of the children, but she could do nothing about the Swan and Hoop, which Rawlings sold immediately before disappearing. It was around this time that John became prone to fistfights, which...
32 poezii, 0 proze
Sylvia Plath
Born to middle class parents in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts, Sylvia Plath published her first poem when she was eight. Sensitive, intelligent, compelled toward perfection in everything she attempted, she was, on the surface, a model daughter, popular in school, earning straight A\'s, winning the best prizes. By the time she entered Smith College on a scholarship in 1950 she already had an impressive list of publications, and while at Smith she wrote over four hundred poems. Sylvia\'s surface perfection was however underlain by grave personal discontinuities, some of which doubtless had their origin in the death of her father (he was a college professor and an expert on bees) when she was eight. During the summer following her junior year at Smith, having returned from a stay in New York City where she had been a student ``guest editor\'\' at Mademoiselle Magazine, Sylvia nearly succeeded in killing herself by swallowing sleeping pills. She later described this experience in an...
0 poezii, 0 proze
Radu Contes
The beginning of my childhood was profoundly marked by one of my grandfather’s passions – literature. For him reading, living, the writings of so many did not seem to be enough, so he began writing his own stories that still echo in my memory and in my heart. I remember that one day I went to him and asked “What are you writing about?”. Looking at me for only a second and returning his eyes at the ink stained notebook he answered: “My life”. Regretful, I confess that that was the last dialogue we had. After that I began reading, reading everything he was writing. Two years after his death, I had met someone who changed everything. I stopped reading and began writing myself. It was such a new feeling. It seemed to be never ending. It still feels. Since the first time, you may think I am exaggerating, but it really was the first time I saw her when I felt this sudden urge of writing. Words like “Thank you” seem meaningless compared to the things that you have done for me.
2 poezii, 0 proze
ADAdam Duritz
[[eng]] Adam Duritz is an innovative lyricist and piano player who brings the same soul to his friends and lifestyle as he does to the beautiful lyrics and music that he performs. Duritz joined and performed in the Bay area band "The Himalayans" until 1991 at which time he left to form Counting Crows. Before he left, however, material was recorded which eventually lead to the release of the 2002 album "She likes the Weather". The album has a track called "round here" which was eventually re-recorded on the Counting Crows album "August and Everything After". During this period in his life he was also involved in the San Francisco based band 'Sordid Humour'. After the Himalayans lost Duritz and the Counting Crows were formed, Duritz's new band gained a huge following and the release of their acclaimed 1993 album was a huge success. The band toured extensively before heading into the studio again for the 1996 album "recovering the satelites". The album was a worthy follow up and it...
5 poezii, 0 proze
My Everything
de Tia
You are my heart, You are my soul, You are my life This you should know. You are my love, My deepest desire, When I think of you My heart burns like fire. I love you deeply, I hope this you know,...
story....
de Florea Ana-Maria
Grey! That was the colour that described everything around him:nature,atmosphere,colours....everything... One glance around him and he felt as if the colour entered his soul,never to leave it! He got...
Eternity
de Remus Cretan
Eternity is you and me when scraping up into the skies, Eternity is what I see when looking deep into your eyes. Eternity is everything when our souls are intermingled, Eternity\'s a unique thing...
Uitarea
de Dafina David
Everythings but i’d stay blind till the sin the self till the burn; everythings- sorii-s de catifea mâinile de uitare; plopii sunt uscați ca deșertul, răni înghițite de piele. Focul stă să pută rău:...
From Mathnawi
de Jelaluddin Rumi
— Oh Beloved, take me. Liberate my soul. Fill me with your love and release me from the two worlds. If I set my heart on anything but you let fire burn me from inside. Oh Beloved, take away what I...
Death of a ladies man
de Leonard Cohen
Ah the man she wanted all her life was hanging by a thread \"I never even knew how much I wanted you,\" she said. His muscles they were numbered and his style was obsolete. \"O baby, I have come too...
To Himself
de Giacomo Leopardi
Now will you rest forever, My tired heart. Dead is the last deception, That I thought eternal. Dead. Well I feel In us the sweet illusions, Nothing but ash, desire burned out. Rest forever. You have...
The Wood-Pile
de Robert Frost
Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day I paused and said, \'I will turn back from here. No, I will go on farther- and we shall see\'. The hard snow held me, save where now and then One foot...
Puține are Iarba de făcut
de Emily Dickinson
Puține are Iarba de făcut - O Sferă Verde să-măplinească În care Fluturii să-și scoată Și Albinele să le hrănească - Să învie Taine cîntătoare Să cheme Adierile aproape Să țină Razele în poală Să...
Haiku și tanka
de Marian Nicolae TOMI
* ceaiul dă în foc - the tea is boiling - cu ochii pierduți pe câmp the eyes lost on the field închizând geamul closing the window * privind un lemn uscat – looking at a dry log - înflorind fără...