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But all this came to an end one night. In almost every one of his novels, Warszawski retells the scene in the winter of 1944 when he came home at three o’clock in the morning, after a night of dancing…
Some time ago it became known that Knut Hamsun was in the habit of expressing his views in an occasional letter to the editor of the local paper in the small town near which he…
[ . . . ] The oft-repeated reproach that Homer is a liar takes nothing from his effectiveness, he does not need to base his story on historical reality, his reality is powerful enough in itself; it…
I sometimes dream that I’m a prisoner. For days, years. I’m only free at night, for a few hours toward morning. During those hours I can walk around. But I don’t know where to go. All the people I…
Odets:(pulls a silver cigarette case from his pocket, takes out an unfiltered cigarette, offers the case to Werfel) Smoke?Werfel:Nicotine is bad for you…thanks. (He takes out three cigarettes and puts…
The puritanically strict observance of the closing hour in London, the lack of continental-style coffee-houses, and perhaps also the isolated situation of the by no means untroubled British Isles may…
The rain cleaned off the steep facade of houses;
I write upon the white and stony sheet
And feel how my tired hand so softly rouses
From love poems that always, sweetly, were a cheat.
I wake in the…