"I am who and how I am" – 21105 rezultate
0.03 secundeMeilisearchBebeisme-şi-şosete
Bebeismul este definit ca lingușeală și gângureală
de sophie polansky
opinii_articole_interviuri
Opinii, articole ?i interviuri
de Adina Ungur
LNLassi Nummi
Lassi Nummi (born 1928) considers himself a prose-writer who has strayed into poetry. In a career spanning almost half a century and 25 collections of poetry, his preoccupations, and his central metaphors, have remained constant: landscape, trees, bushes, blades of grass. Interview by Tarja Roinila; poems translated by Herbert Lomas and Anselm Hollo 'During my "social period" I was on the board of the Writers' Union, and its chairman from 1969 to 1972; after that I worked for the Uusi Suomi newspaper and for the PEN Club, whose chairman I was from 1983 to 1988. I was a member of the Bible translation committee for the entire period of its existence, 17 years. A completely different choice would have been to become either a Buddhist or a Christian monk, or then to be a really convinced down-and-out- that might have been the most elegant solution. One could have regulated one's liquid intake, but the freedom of movement would have been pleasant. At the moment I am working out how much...
2 poezii, 0 proze
paul rotaru
I am That I am nobody son of nobody he who is and he who is not
4 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
John Keats
John Keats John Keats (October 31, 1795 – February 23, 1821) was one of the principal poets of the English Romantic movement. During his short life, his work received constant critical attacks from the periodicals of the day, though politics, rather than aesthetics, often dictated those opinions. By the mid-nineteenth century, however, audiences began to appreciate more fully the significance of the cultural change his work both presaged and helped to form. Elaborate word choice and sensual imagery characterize Keats' poetry. He often felt himself working in the shadow of past poets, particularly Milton and Spenser, and only towards the end of his life produced his most original and most memorable poems, including a series of odes that remain among the most popular poems in English. Oscar Wilde, the aestheticist non pareil was to later write: "[...] who but the supreme and perfect artist could have got from a mere colour a motive so full of marvel: and now I am half enamoured of the...
0 poezii, 0 proze
Stefan Dragos
2 poezii, 0 proze
haha hoho
2 poezii, 0 proze
Igor Ursenco
CURRICULUM VITAE(Epekeina tes ousias: "beyond the being" Plato)) It's my thirst which concedes that there is water... Irrigated, my soul awakes forth: I'm surviving my nigts,for I taper this body worth... I exceed all my fates.I should figth her wasted battles, anxious to allot penitences of Eva & wagger fleengs of Loth... Who I am? Could she know? Yet I master her thougts - trespassing my bounds - remote... May I be her breath, confined by - rather - things she sais me not..?
2 poezii, 0 proze
CAcodrin antonovici
I am to be and nothing more
11 poezii, 0 proze
Leia Skywalker
I am LadyVader of Borg. You shall be assimilated, Resistance is futile. Poetry is irrelevant. *looks around at the people getting their guns* Ok! Ok! Glumeam!!!
2 poezii, 0 proze
IImmortaal
I am only here because I cannot delete my account. Please, delete my account!!!
4 poezii, 0 proze
Hamlet
de William Shakespeare
HAMLET DRAMATIS PERSONAE (PAGINA 4) ACT II SCENE I A room in POLONIUS\' house. [Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO] LORD POLONIUS Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo. REYNALDO I will, my lord....
Portrait of a Lady
de T.S. Eliot
Thou hast committed— Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead. The Jew of Malta. I AMONG the smoke and fog of a December afternoon You have the scene arrange...
the despisers of the body
de Friedrich Nietzsche
4. The Despisers of the Body TO THE despisers of the body will I speak my word. I wish them neither to learn afresh, nor teach anew, but only to bid farewell to their own bodies,- and thus be dumb....
Gerontion
de T.S. Eliot
Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both. HERE I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain. I was neither at the hot gates Nor...
Dracula
de Bram Stoker
Chapter 5 - Letters, Etc. Letter from Miss Mina Murray to Miss Lucy Westenra. \"9 May. \"My dearest Lucy,- \"Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply overwhelmed with work. The life...
Dracula
de Bram Stoker
DRACULA (1897) written by Bram Stoker Chapter 1 - Jonathan Harker\'s Journal 3 May. Bistriz. Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46,...
to hell and back
de oana stanescu
Sometimes I feel like I’m falling appart Sometimes I’m just dying without any questions..or thoughts..or reasons.. Sometimes my head is so heavy almost like a burden how can I get rid of that single...
sorry..
de oana stanescu
I’m sorry I want more than I can get, more than I’ll ever get.. I’m sorry for being what I am I’m sorry for being at all but it wasn’t my choice.. I’m sorry for choosing not to choose I’m sorry for...