"Like a Child" – 6189 rezultate
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KYKe Yan
Ke Yan: born 1929, is a Chinese writer. Ke Yan was born in the province Guangdong. Her father was a writer and a translator and she has stated that she was first inspired by him to start writing. She is a playwright, novelist and poet. She is famous for her textbooks and children's literature. Also she has written lyrics and a script for a television program. Throughout her life she has held several positions. like vice Chief-Editor of Poetry Magazine, Editor of People's Literature, Vice-President of the Children's Educational Society of Beijing, and National Committee member of the Chinese Federation of the Art and Literature Circles. Famous amongst her work is Stories of a Little Soldier and Little Muddleheaded Aunt. Writer Ke Yan started her career 50 years ago as a writer of children's literature. Thirty years later, she wrote the reportage--for adults this time--Cancer Does Not Mean Death. This work, written by a person who did not have cancer, was nonetheless regarded by...
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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.
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JDJoe Duggan
Joe Duggan is a poet, writer and facilitator, originally from Northern Ireland. His first full collection “Fizzbombs” was published by Tall Lighthouse in 2008. He was highly commended in The Forward Prize 2009 and featured in the Forward Book of Poetry 2010. He was a founder member of the “Bunch of Chancers” Poetry Group in Derry, touring throughout Ireland and New York State. His work has been published by Brand, Abridged, Fingerpost, Bear in Mind (Lagan Press), Cúirt Journal and the Shuffle Anthology. He has also written stories for children, rap lyrics for the Irish band Different Drums and two texts for Echo Echo Dance Company. He enjoys performing widely on the London poetry scene and featured at Latitude Festival in 2009. A qualified Primary school teacher, he is also an experienced creative writing facilitator, working in both school and community settings. “Under the chatty vernacular is a lovely, casual sharpness, like an unexpected hot chilli in something sold as sweet....
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JTJames Thurber
Born: 8 December 1894 Birthplace: Columbus, Ohio Death: 2 November 1961 (complications from a stroke) Best Known As: Author of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Thurber\'s witty short stories and lumpy cartoons were a popular mainstay of The New Yorker magazine in the 1930s and 1940s. A Midwestern boy with an urbane twist, Thurber mixed comical reminiscences of his Ohio childhood with wry observations on modern times and the battle of the sexes. (His best-known story is The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, the tale of a henpecked husband who escapes into heroic daydreams.) Thurber\'s funny, loopy, absurdist cartoons featured men, women, dogs and other strange animals. He was by turns hilarious and melancholy, and his darker nature seemed to come out in stories and cartoons about husbands and wives: the wives often domineering and sarcastic, the husbands harried or bitterly triumphant. Like Mark Twain, Thurber became increasingly morose in his last decade, although he continued to write...
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Duca Horia
So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false. The truth is that I'm a bad person, but that's gonna change. I'm going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on. Going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm going to be just like you. The job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc, and electrical tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, D.I.Y., game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, 9:00 to 5:00, good at golf, washing the car,choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing gutters, getting by,looking ahead to the day you die.
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MNMillosh Gjergj Nikolla
Millosh Gjergj Nikolla (October 13, 1911 - August 26, 1938) was an Albanian poet born in Shkodër, Albania. Migjeni, pen name of Millosh Gjergj Nikolla, was born in Shkodra. In a letter of 12 January 1936 written to translator Skënder Luarasi (1900-1982) in Tirana, Migjeni announced, "I am about to send my songs to press. Since, while you were here, you promised that you would take charge of speaking to some publisher, ‘Gutemberg’ for instance, I would now like to remind you of this promise, informing you that I am ready." Two days later, Migjeni received the transfer he had earlier requested to the mountain village of Puka and on 18 April 1936 began his activities as the headmaster of the run-down school there. The clear mountain air did him some good, but the poverty and misery of the mountain tribes in and around Puka were even more overwhelming than that which he had experienced among the inhabitants of the coastal plain. Many of the children came to school barefoot and hungry, and...
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AJadrian jigăranu
25 iunie 1985 Are you a child of the free to be you and me generation And are you in tune with the world around you I am a child of the free to be you and me generation And I am with you in being in tune We shall bring change to this place Listen to the whistle of the planet twirlin through space Singin la la la la la la to the human race (she says) I believe I am the flower of life, the earth And the ocean oh oh I believe I feel the power of light, vibrate All around me oh oh I believe you are the children of the one great spirit, oh oh Are you a child of the free to be you and me generation And are you confused with the world around you I am a child of the free to be you and me generation And I am with you in being confused Children children can you hear it Listen to the riddle in the melody by great spirit Singin la la la la la la theres nothin to it (he says) I believe I am the flower of life, the air And the sunshine oh oh I believe I am the power of light, the motive For the...
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Angela Carter
Angela Olive Stalker was born in Eastbourne, Sussex, England on the 8th May 1940. War had broken out in Europe and she was evacuated as a child to Yorkshire to live with her maternal grandmother, a working-class, matriarchal, domineering, feminist bread-\'n-buta granny of the north of England. Carter left school and started work at the age of nineteen for the Croydon Advertiser, following in the footsteps of her father - who was a Scottish journalist working in London. One year later she met and married Paul Carter. She was to divorce him almost twelve years after, in 1972. She studied English at the University of Bristol and built on her already vast cultural and literary baggage. Her mother was a great literary influence on her, as she devoured book after book and author after author. Her upbringing was very much based on the works of Shakespeare and great names of English literature. The influence of authors on her work is enormous and perhaps incalculable. There are references to...
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SCSamuel Taylor Coleridge
Samuel Taylor "Estese" Coleridge (1772-1834) Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born in Ottery St. Mary on 21 October 1772, youngest of the ten children of John Coleridge, a minister, and Ann Bowden Coleridge. He was often bullied as a child by Frank, the next youngest, and his mother was apparently a bit distant, so it was no surprise when Col1 ran away at age seven. He was found early the next morning by a neighbor, but the events of his night outdoors frequently showed up in imagery in his poems (and his nightmares) as well as the notebooks he kept for most of his adult life. John Coleridge died in 1781, and Col was sent away to a London charity school for children of the clergy. He stayed with his maternal uncle2. Col was really quite a prodigy; he devoured books and eventually earned first place in his class. His brother Luke died in 1790 and his only sister Ann in 1791, inspiring Col to write "Monody," one of his first poems, in which he likens himself to Thomas Chatterton3. Col was...
22 poezii, 0 proze
MBMircea Braslasu
Dedicate these lyrics memory my son Valentin Catalin Brăslașu, the writing about his life from birth (28-10-1981) until death (08-07-2000), but after his death. This describes both his life and my life, but more strongly to the shock of finding veștii that my son died in a tragic car accident at age 18 years 8 months and 10 days shock from which I left with sequelae , traumatized throughout their lives. I am Brăslașu Mircea, born com.Sângeru, jud.Prahova. In 1979, on December 31, I married, from this marriage two children resulted: Valentin-Catalin-Adrian and Gabriel. In 1993 after 14 years of marriage I broke the exclusive fault of the former spouses. In the divorce we have been entrusted to educate and increase a child so-Catalin Valentin (it was 12 years) was heard by the court expressing its desire to remain with me, the fact that the account, and Gabriel (he had 6 years) was given his mother. After he finished vocational school (1999), Catalin's exam at the evening high school,...
19 poezii, 0 proze
A Paris (4)
de Lorena Stoica
Trenul merge lin, fără să se zdruncine la îmbinările șinelor. Chiar mă gândesc că îmi lipsește zgomotul ritmic al CFR-ului, atât de drag pentru ca îl asociez cu vacanțele, cu taberele școlare… Pe...
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...
Dive
de Miruna Gavriliu
I’ve been allowing myself to hear the crickets grow and the old splendor in the grass sing, or maybe there is an emotional black hole that makes us all break in and fall down a triptych of stairs...
Crapulous Impression
de Aldous Leonard Huxley
(To J.S.) Still life, still life…the high-lights shine Hard and sharp on the bottles: the wine Stands firmly solid in the glasses, Smooth yellow ice, through which there passes The lamp\'s bright...
Iti mai amintesti?
de Florin DeRoxas
remember me? my password? my username? then what do you remember? am fost aici si tot aici ma aflu, sicriul imi poarta numele dar corpul e free, eu sunt free, aici ma aflu, tu unde ma cautai? nu,...
life, life
de Arseny Tarkovsky
1 I don\'t believe in omens or fear Forebodings. I flee from neither slander Nor from poison. Death does not exist. Everyone\'s immortal. Everything is too. No point in fearing death at seventeen, Or...
The Poems of Sappho, Part II
de Sappho
The Poems of Sappho, Part II 19 ... Po`das de\' poi\'kilos ma\'slhs e?ka\'lupte, Lu\'dion ka\'lon e?\'rgon. A broidered strap of beautiful Lydian work covered her feet. Her shining ankles clad in...
zarathustra
de Friedrich Nietzsche
1891 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA by Friedrich Nietzsche translated by Thomas Common PROLOGUE Zarathustra\'s Prologue 1. WHEN Zarathustra was thirty years old, he left his home and the lake of his home,...
The Witch of Coos
de Robert Frost
I staid the night for shelter at a farm Behind the mountains, with a mother and son, Two old-believers. They did all the talking. MOTHER Folks think a witch who has familiar spirits She could call up...
The Apocalyptic Subculture of a Woman\'s Man
de Ohm
Where can I begin? Where will it end? Well, either in the year 2003 or the year 2006, most likely the latter. The remaining timeline grows thinner as the world grows fatter. It doesn\'t matter,...