"still young & foolish " – 13471 rezultate
0.01 secundeMeilisearchlara sam
Still thinking of coming back
2 poezii, 0 proze
GKGabriel J. Khazini
Broken glass still echoes in his heart as broken mirrors, Heart that once danced love and fear... And thus all puppets sing the song that hurt the puppeteer
2 poezii, 0 proze
ionutz
born....10.03.1900-toamna.............still breathing.....
7 poezii, 0 proze
OIOvidiu Mihai Ionel
Born again. Still alive. Painter, dancer, writer.
88 poezii, 0 proze
SNSara Nagy
mi-au expirat cei 19 ani de acasa. datele mele personale still pending ( schimbarea domiciliului unitate de invatamant)
36 poezii, 0 proze
ANandra n
"it looks i've reached the crossroad.. remains of what i am still still waiting on the sidewalk to fill this peaceful day the burden of a choice my past dissolved..erased would you belive my world?"
1 poezii, 0 proze
CFCarmen Fenesan
"Well. I'll tell you somethin' about your famous future. Every day I wake up, it's still the present. The same grimy, boring present. I don't think this future thing exists." (Titan AE)
19 poezii, 0 proze
James Joyce
Joyce was born in Dublin, where his father was a rates collector. He was educated at a Jesuit school and University College, Dublin where he studied philosophy and language. When he was still an undergraduate, in 1900, his long review of Ibsen’s last play was published in the Fortnightly Review. At this time he also began writing his poems which were later collected in Chamber Music, published in 1907. In 1902 Joyce left Dublin for Paris, but returned the following year as his mother was dying. From 1904 he lived with Nora Barnacle, whom he married in 1931 (the year his father died), a son was born in 1905, and a daughter in 1918. Their home from 1905 to 1915 was Trieste, where Joyce taught English at the Berlitz school. In 1909 and 1912 he made his final trips to Ireland, attempting to arrange the publication of his first book Dubliners, which finally appeared in England in 1914. It was during this time that he was contacted by Ezra Pound, a leading champion of modernist writers who...
0 poezii, 0 proze
JAJohn Ashbery
John Ashbery (born July 28, 1927) is an American poet. He has won nearly every major American award for poetry and is recognized as one of America's most important, though still controversial, poets. In an article on Elizabeth Bishop in his Selected Prose, he characterizes himself as having been described as "a harebrained, homegrown surrealist whose poetry defies even the rules and logic of Surrealism." "No figure looms so large in American poetry over the past 50 years as John Ashbery", Langdon Hammer, chairman of the English Department at Yale University, wrote in 2008. American poet has had a larger, more diverse vocabulary, not Whitman, not Pound". Stephen Burt, a poet and Harvard professor of English has compared Ashbery to T. S. Eliot, the "last figure whom half the English-language poets alive thought a great model, and the other half thought incomprehensible" Ashbery was born in Rochester, New York, and raised on a farm near Lake Ontario; his brother died when they were...
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
still young & foolish
de Mirela Lungu
sunt tânără încă și vreau să iubesc să-ți îndoi genunchii în jurul gâtului meu de șarpe boa să te prind cu mâinile de păr si să te arunc din al nouălea cer direct pe salteaua cu puf de pinguin să...
Finding the right path
de Cristina
Since young Nadejda\'s destiny was decided by others, The adult life she began as a child; Her life represents the embodiment of a curved, dark tunnel, She accomplished her goals with more than one...
Sinucigasul
de Nikolai Erdman
Young man, do you think -- or I should say what do you think -- please don\'t interrupt me, just listen -- imagine that tomorrow at twelve noon you are going to take a revolver in your hand -- please...
To Silvia
de Giacomo Leopardi
Silvia, do you remember the moments, in your mortal life, when beauty still shone in your sidelong, laughing eyes, and you, light and thoughtful, went beyond girlhood’s limits? The quiet rooms and...
Why
de Emma
Why is it life so dear to us? Why is it pure,magic and thus Sparkling,hidden under mists of grass, On the ground of sky Lightened by the faithful moonly rye. However absurd this definition seems This...
Hearts a mess
de Miruna Gavriliu
I think I should get lost and hide in time, in a vast nook of shrouded obsolescence Perhaps I cannot grasp this nonsense feeling that pushes through like a fully loaded steamer when the siren is...
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...
West Running Brook
de Robert Frost
\'Fred, where is north?\' \'North? North is there, my love. The brook runs west.\' \'West-running Brook then call it.\' (West-Running Brook men call it to this day.) \'What does it think k\'s doing...
The Passionate Pilgrim
de William Shakespeare
I. WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor\'d youth, Unskilful in the world\'s false forgeries. Thus vainly...
The Poems of Sappho, Part III
de Sappho
The Poems of Sappho, Part III 44 Ge\'llws paidofilwte\'ra. More fond of children than Gello. Zenobius, about A.D. 130, quotes this as a proverb. The ghost of Gello was said by the Lesbians to pursue...