"think in terms of bridges burned" – 1075 rezultate
0.02 secundeMeilisearchMoarcăș Monica
Din tăcere, m-am născut (în 1988, Brașov), iar acum cuvântul îmi este prietenul cel mai drag, scut, dușman și mângâiere. 2002-2006: Colegiul Național ”Dr. Ioan Meșotă” Brașov 2006-prezent (adică 2012): Facultatea de Medicină Brașov viitor: ”Be the change you want to see in the world” (Gandhi)
76 poezii, 0 proze
Robert Sheckley
Robert Sheckley, born in 1928, grew up in New Jersey and served in Korea before selling his first story in 1951. A master of satire and irony whose work has been called \"galactic humor,\" Sheckley was one of the first to portray gadgets that think for humans, such as intelligent refrigerators. Among his classic stories are \"Shape\", \"Specialist\", \"Seventh Victim\", and \"Warm\" (all 1953), \"The Prize of Peril\" (1958), \"The Store of the Worlds\" (1959), \"The People Trap\" (1968), and \"Can You Feel Anything When I Do This?\" (1969); \"Shall We Have a Little Talk?\" (1965) and \"What Is Life?\" (1976) were Nebula and World Fantasy award nominees respectively. Early story collections Untouched by Human Hands (1954), Citizen in Space (1955), and Pilgrimage to Earth (1957) were followed by others in the \'60s and \'70s, with retrospective The Collected Short Fiction of Robert Sheckley published in 5 volumes in 1991. Sheckley\'s first novel Immortality Inc. (1959) was an expanded...
0 poezii, 0 proze
Fred Moramarco
Dr. Moramarco is a Professor of English at San Diego State and the Editor of Poetry International, an annual journal of new poetry published there. He is the co-author of Containing Multitudes: Poetry in the United States Since 1950 and Modern American Poetry, and co-editor of Men of Our Time: Male Poetry in Contemporary America. ,,I\'ve devoted a lot of my life to poetry. Reading it, writing it, writing about it. In her wonderful novel, \"Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant,\" Anne Tyler writes, \"There ought to be a whole separate language for truth.\" I think there is such a language--the language of poetry. Poems create the miracle of connecting our inner lives. We live in a world where the language of advertising, commerce, and politics are so filled with falseness, deception, and manipulation, that we have an absolute longing to hear words spoken from the heart, with clarity, precision, and authenticity.``
2 poezii, 0 proze
John Willy Kopperud
It\'s All Over Now, Baby Blue Bob Dylan You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last. But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast. Yonder stands your orphan with his gun, Crying like a fire in the sun. Look out the saints are comin\' through And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense. Take what you have gathered from coincidence. The empty-handed painter from your streets Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets. This sky, too, is folding under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home. All your reindeer armies, are all going home. The lover who just walked out your door Has taken all his blankets from the floor. The carpet, too, is moving under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you. Forget the dead you\'ve left, they will not follow you. The vagabond who\'s rapping at your door Is standing in the clothes that you...
0 poezii, 0 proze
Helena Schmetterling
Despre mine stiu sigur ca mi-ar fi placut sa fiu o printesa medievala. Sau sa ma plimb cu Stanescu mana in mana prin Union Square, sa-mi povesteasca despre cercuri si despre iertari. Despre ceilalti oameni stiu doar ca cel mai mult ma enerveaza momentele in care ma trateaza ca pe o femeie obisnuita. Sau acelea in care se pierd in jumatati de gesturi. In proiecte de vise netraite niciodata pana la capat. Cel mai des ma indragostesc iremediabil de aceia care valseaza in voie si dupa bunul plac pe portativ si-mi soptesc impletituri decente precum, iubito, while you’re traveling with me, desigur ca, you’ll never see the end of the road si baby, I think this is a song of hope. Mda. Si alte maruntisuri sentimentale de genul. Despre viata mea stiu doar ca imi scapa mereu printre degete momentul in care m-as putea aseza nestingherita pe un scaun, fie si numai pentru o clipa scurta de surpare in mine insami. Sau de adevar pe stomacul gol. Dar asta este alta poveste. Despre sufletul meu stiu...
17 poezii, 0 proze
Louis McKee
Louis McKee (born July 31, 1951, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) has been a fixture of the Philadelphia poetry scene since the early 70s. He is the author of Schuylkill County (Wampeter, 1982), The True Speed of Things (Slash & Burn, 1984) and eleven other collections. More recently, he has published River Architecture: Poems from Here & There 1973-1993 (Cynic, 1999), Loose Change (Marsh River Editions, 2001) and a volume in the Pudding House Greatest Hits series. Gerald Stern has called his work “heart-breaking” and “necessary,” while William Stafford has written, “Louis McKee makes me think of how much fun it was to put your hand out a car window and make the air carry you into quick adventures and curlicues. He is so adept at turning all kinds of sudden glimpses into good patterns.” Naomi Shihab Nye says, “Louis McKee is one of the truest hearts and voices in poetry we will ever be lucky to know.” Near Occasions of Sin, a collection issued in 2006 by Cynic Press, has been praised by...
2 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
Laura Cherecheș
I was told I was born, without my consent, on the 3rd of August 1976. I got all the necessary childhood diseases and diplomas in order to further attend and graduate The Faculty of Letters, History and Theology (University of the West Timisoara) and become a teacher. I haven't published anything. Poetry is a way of exercising both the brain and the heart, just my way of keeping fit :) I love spring, chocolate, dogs, stones, children, nature, kind hearts, Dire Straits, Chris Rea and many other things. One thing I believe in: impossible is nothing. anastasia365@yahoo.com http://anastasia333.blogspot.com/
48 poezii, 0 proze
Maria Bungău
Nsscuta pe 6 martie 1987. In prezent studenta in anul I la Facultatea de Litere din Brasov. Si cum zice Fernando Pessoa "If, after I die, they should want to write my biography, There's nothing simpler. I've just two dates - of my birth, and of my death. In between the one thing and the other all the days are mine. "
1 poezii, 0 proze
Nightwish
-'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
think in terms of bridges burned
de Adela Setti
se întâmplă să pice câte un pod câte un văl uneori o mănușă cunoașterea celuilalt ca o dezbrăcare nu mai încântă nimic aici o maree amnezică rigole uscate și mâinile tot mai reci iubirea e un...
Hamlet
de William Shakespeare
HAMLET DRAMATIS PERSONAE (PAGINA 8) ACT IV SCENE VI Another room in the castle. [Enter HORATIO and a Servant] HORATIO What are they that would speak with me? Servant Sailors, sir: they say they have...
Saturday Night
de Dumitrescu Florescu Alexandru
SATURDAY NIGHT: TOM WAITS: For starters, I\'d like to see the term wooden kimono return to the lexicon. Means coffin. Think it originated in New Orleans, but I\'m not certain. Another one I like is...
The Poems of Sappho, Part IV
de Sappho
The Poems of Sappho, Part IV 110 H?mitu\'bion stala\'sson. A napkin dripping. From the Scholiast on the Plutus of Aristophanes to show the meaning of h?mitu\'bion. This was a piece of soft linen for...
Hamlet
de William Shakespeare
HAMLET DRAMATIS PERSONAE (PAGINA 2) ACT I SCENE II A room of state in the castle. [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, and Attendants] KING...
Dracula
de Bram Stoker
Chapter 7 - Cutting from \"the Dailygraph\". (Pasted in Mina Murray\'s Journal.) From a Correspondent. 8 August. Whitby One of the greatest and suddenest storms on record has just been experienced...
Another On The Same
de John Milton
Here lieth one who did most truly prove, That he could never die while he could move, So hung his destiny never to rot While he might still jogg on, and keep his trot, Made of sphear-metal, never to...
Tendința de a filosofa
de ioana baciu
Motto: ’’How do you not think a thought that is the loudest think in your head?’’ În lucrarea ’’Cercetare asupra intelectului omenesc’’, David Hume afirmă că ’’el(filosoful) trăiește departe de...
Proverbs of Hell
de William Blake
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. Drive your cart and your plough over the bones of the dead. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. Prudence is a rich, ugly old maid...
Look Here Mr. Beefy
de Ohm
A poem for all the ones who ever typed A/S/L I look up in the corner, and a message up has arrived, a private message from a stranger who thinks I have no pride, who thinks the three little words...
