"Stripped of Light" – 92 rezultate
0.02 secundeMeilisearchRadu 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
HFHÖLDERLIN, Friedrich
Johann Christian Friedrich Hölderlin (20 March 1770 – 6 June 1843) was a major German lyric poet. His work bridges the Classical and Romantic schools. Having spent most of his life tormented by mental illness, he suffered great loneliness, and often spent his time playing the piano, drawing, reading, writing, and enjoyed travelling when he had the chance. The poetry of Hölderlin, widely recognized today as one of the highest points of German literature, was little known or understood during his lifetime and slipped into obscurity shortly after his death; his illness and reclusion made him fade from his contemporaries' consciousness – and, even though selections of his work were being published by his friends already during his lifetime, it was largely ignored for the rest of the 19th century. In fact, Hölderlin was a man of his time, an early supporter of the French Revolution – in his youth at the Seminary of Tübingen, he and some colleagues from a "republican club" planted a "Tree...
22 poezii, 0 proze
ASAnna Sewell
Anna Sewell (30 March 1820 – 25 April 1878) was an English novelist, best known as the author of the classic novel Black Beauty. Anna Mary Sewell was born in Great Yarmouth, Norfolk, England into a devoutly Quaker family. Her father was Isaac Phillip Sewell (1793-1879), and her mother, Mary Wright Sewell (1798 - 1884) was a successful author of children's books. Anna Sewell had one sibling, a younger brother named Philip Sewell. Anna Sewell was largely educated at home. When Anna was twelve years old, the family moved to Stoke Newington, where Sewell attended school for the first time. Two years later, however, she slipped while walking home from school and severely injured both of her ankles. Her father took a job in Brighton in 1836, partly in the hope that the climate there would help to cure her. Despite this, and most likely because of mistreatment of her injury, for the rest of her life Anna was unable to stand without a crutch or to walk for any length of time. For greater...
5 poezii, 0 proze
The Mountain
de Robert Frost
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de Alexandra Cristina Puscasu
Dark Forest my steps fall through the darkest forest I run and try to leave it all behind But I\'m tripped up with every mve I make I seek a light to feed my way But no,... It\'s all in vain- the...
The Last Question
de Isaac Asimov
The last question was asked for the first time, half in jest, on May 21, 2061, at a time when humanity first stepped into the light. The question came about as a result of a five-dollar bet over...
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\"...and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted Nevermore.\" on a sweet scented summer day with the ashes falling from the sky the ashes he once loved for they...
Pădure de fagi
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Îngrijorați și tăcuți cutreieram pădurea de fagi cu trunchiuri negre de ploaie și ramuri bătute în picuri mărunți gata să cadă scânteietori și grei de lumină lunecam vrăjiți înspre culme înspre...
story....
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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...
Dracula
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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,...
On Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense
de Friedrich Nietzsche
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