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"we have time for everything"1209 rezultate

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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

FM

Fred Moramarco

AutorClasic

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

Keiko ImaokaKI

Keiko Imaoka

AutorClasic

Beginner\'s Mind (Keiko Imaoka - Tucson, Arizona) I cannot be sure when I first became aware of haiku and tanka in my childhood in Japan. They seemed to have existed for a long time in the perimeter of my awareness, undifferentiated from proverbs, mottoes, aphorisms, and song lyrics that were phrased in similar forms. Sometime during my grade school years, \"Ogura Hyakunin-Isshu\" (\"Ogura Collection of One Hundred Tanka\", edited by Teika Fujiwara around 1235) became known to me as a New Year\'s card game, in which players compete to capture shimonoku cards (100 cards on each of which the last half of a verse is printed, spread out on the floor in front of the players) that finish the verses being read aloud. At abacus school, where we played this game at every new year\'s party, my prowess in the game improved dramatically when I was in the sixth grade, after I had memorized all the poems with my tenth-grade sister who was required to do so in her archaic grammar course in school. I...

1 poezii, 0 proze

Robert SheckleyRS

Robert Sheckley

AutorClasic

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

Mircea BraslasuMB

Mircea Braslasu

AutorAtelier

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

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

Bucseneanu RaduBR

Bucseneanu Radu

AutorAtelier

We are how we choose to be! ..nimic nu e concret si totu-i relativ !¿!

6 poezii, 0 proze

Vereha Olivia IrinaVI

Vereha Olivia Irina

AutorAtelier

all we are is dust in the wind...

13 poezii, 0 proze

O

Ohm

AutorAtelier

Life is entertaining when we do not take it too seriously...To be able to laugh at life is marvelous.

42 poezii, 0 proze

Iulia Diana MihaiIM

Iulia Diana Mihai

AutorAtelier

Biografia mea se scrie as we speak.

4 poezii, 0 proze

we have time for everything

de Ela Victoria Luca

dragostea noastră este ploaia asta banală sfârșim în camera de lumină ne ascundem obositor de aproape unul de celălalt fără a ne atinge greșind meridiane asimetrice umblăm desculți alunecăm în...

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Way Of The Souls

de Octav Chivulescu

ISBN 973-0-03999-2 Noita R. Ipsni WAY OF THE SOULS * OURSELVES CIVILIZATION OF THE INS SOURCE OF LIGHT ARCHAEOLOGY OF THE FUTURE COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS CHAPTER 666 TRACES IN THE SAND Computer...

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THE ANTICHRIST

de Friedrich Nietzsche

THE ANTICHRIST by Friedrich Nietzsche Published 1895 translation by H.L. Mencken Published 1920 PREFACE This book belongs to the most rare of men. Perhaps not one of them is yet alive. It is possible...

EseuClasic

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...

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Chase your song

de Florea Ana-Maria

It was raining, again- it was normal and expected. Thoughts were sailing through the rain, trying not to get wet, not to be stopped by the strong,wicked clouds. It was the kind of night in which you...

ProzăAtelier

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

The Self-Seeker

de Robert Frost

Willis, I didn\'t want you here to-day: The lawyer\'s coming for the company. I\'m going to sell my soul, or, rather, feet. Five hundred dollars for the pair, you know.\" \"With you the feet have...

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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...

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The Code

de Robert Frost

There were three in the meadow by the brook Gathering up windrows, piling cocks of hay, With an eye always lifted toward the west Where an irregular sun-bordered cloud Darkly advanced with a...

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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...

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