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"I have only one wish"21104 rezultate

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42 rezultate

Bebeisme-şi-şosete

ColecțieRubrică1 text

Bebeismul este definit ca lingușeală și gângureală

de sophie polansky

opinii_articole_interviuri

ColecțieEbook4 texte

Opinii, articole ?i interviuri

de Adina Ungur

Stefan CiobanasuSC

Stefan Ciobanasu

AutorAtelier

Which way is the right path, as I stand upon This chaotic crossroads of hate... How many ways are there to roam On this dark and damned road of fate... "There are many ways, my son, to find where the souls of demons remain...But it takes only one second of despair and of doubt Until at last, your soul, they will gain... Inherit these lands, these things, these dreams That are yours, forever, to adore... For there is no life, in the depths of chaos, my son, For you to explore... C. Vincent Metzen - 'The Initiate' All I ever craved were the two dreams I shared with you. One I now have, will the other one ever dream remain. For yours I truly wish to be. Nightwish - Ever Dream

2 poezii, 0 proze

NightwishN

Nightwish

AutorAtelier

-'Those who hate me or envy me, I wish them only one thing;to carry for only one day, my life burden!" -"Viata nu se masoara in momentele care iti fac inima sa bata cu putere, ci in momentele care iti taie rasuflarea!" -"Se intampla in viata sa iubesti dar sa fii ranit ... iti iei viata de la capat, vrei sa uiti tot, dar amintirile sunt mereu in inima ta amintindu-ti ca iubirea este cel mai frumos lucru care te poate condamna la suferinta"

2 poezii, 0 proze

HS

Hal Sirowitz

AutorClasic

Pretending We went to Dan Lynch's, & listened to White musicians pretending that they were Black. And the people next to us jumped up & down, pretending that they were rock stars. And I put my hand on your knee, pretending that I was your lover. You remained aloof. Why did you have to be the only one who insisted on being yourself?

0 poezii, 0 proze

RC

Radu Contes

AutorAtelier

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

JK

John Keats

AutorClasic

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

BS

Bianca Solonariu

AutorAtelier

Fall in love and stay in love. Write only what you love, and love what you write. The key word is love. You have to get up in the morning and write something you love, something to live for. Absolventa a Seminarului Teologic Cuv. Paraschateva, -Agapia-Neamt, promotia 2003; Absolventa a Universitatii Al.I. Cuza -Iasi, Facultatea de Economie si Administrarea Afacerilor, promotia 2007;

1 poezii, 0 proze

ND

nicoleta d.

AutorAtelier

no words are enough to say what I had lived...the words are plane and could not show the beauty that ihave lived...nothing is important to me, but my , myself and I...I could write my life with simple words but the sparkness of the real life could not be seen and felt...so all that I can say is that I live, not only exist...

5 poezii, 0 proze

Ioan StoenicaIS

Ioan Stoenica

AutorAtelier

I am my soul, and I have my brain to help me with that. Doar o parte din mine. Ma intereseaza sufletul uman cu toate sentimentele lui (din care sunt atatea de invatat), scrisul si fotografia, care imi permit sa exprim dragoste si bucurie si frumusete si tristete, si bicicleta mea iubita, care ma face sa zbor liber pe drumuri de caramida galbena ce duc catre cer... Mai erau teatrul si tangoul si parca si muzica, dar cred ca pana la urma e vorba de orice ma poate ajuta sa simt si sa exprim sufletul, orice ma poate ajuta sa invat si sa fac sa creasca mintea...

30 poezii, 0 proze

ruxandra olteanuRO

ruxandra olteanu

AutorAtelier

I am getting closer to myself...I'll let you know when I have news ...

5 poezii, 0 proze

Daniela Maria BeneaDB

Daniela Maria Benea

AutorAtelier

I was born in Cluj-Napoca on the 11th of September 1970. I have learned to read, write and love over there. In 1991 I moved to Brisbane, Australia. I hold a bachelor degree in International Business. Later on I followed a couple of courses in Psychology. I mainly write in Romanian, that's what makes me feel closer to the places I left. However I do write in English, sometimes it feels like the words find me better this way, or maybe it's the other way around. I read many English books, biographies, poetry, etc.

19 poezii, 0 proze

Atlas Shrugged

de Ayn Rand

\"Ladies and gentlemen,\" said a voice that came from the radio receiver—a man\'s clear, calm, implacable voice, the kind of voice that had not been heard on the airwaves for years—\"Mr. Thompson...

ProzăClasic

it\'s only words

de oana stanescu

I wish I could give up I wish I could go on..being the same I wish I could find myself I wish I could find something.. I know the shield is gone I know there never was one.. I think I’m gone I’ll be...

PoezieAtelier

A happy/unhappy event

de Adrian Arvunescu

It was a beautiful day when I met Traian on a cargo ship to Afghanistan. We both were illegal immigrants seeking a better life. I forgot to mention that I m from Papua, where big people eat little...

ProzăAtelier

Venus and Adonis

de William Shakespeare

\'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.\' To the Right Honourable Henry Wríothestly, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD. RIGHT HONOURABLE, I know not...

PoezieClasic

The Rape of Lucrece

de William Shakespeare

To the Right Honourable Henry Wriothesly, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON AND BARON OF TICHFIELD. THE love I dedicate to your lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a...

PoezieClasic

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...

ProzăClasic

The Use and Abuse of History

de Friedrich Nietzsche

The Use and Abuse of History (1878) By Friedrich Nietzsche Forward \"Incidentally, I despise everything which merely instructs me without increasing or immediately enlivening my activity.\" These are...

EseuClasic

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...

PoezieAtelier