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“Well, as you know already, the story is about Esterka, the daughter of the Jew to whom this house belongs. She was ten years old when he came here, and tall of her age, with black hair and large blue…
During the night I have a vision of bedbugs in congress. A concrescence of male and female. The polluted mass pulsates, masculine organs pullulate, grow into dangerous spikes that, blinded by passion…
It was most curious, Hemdat’s having agreed to give Yael Hayyut literature lessons. Yet since it struck him as being but one more insoluble psychological riddle, he took the moralist’s advice and…
For four hours I sat engrossed while old Gershon Falk told his story, feeling all the while as though I were listening to a fantastic saga—as though I were in the presence of one from another time…
No, Anton Wanzl was not good. He lacked love, he lacked heart. He did only what he thought was clever and sensible. He gave no love and asked for none. He never needed any affection, any tenderness…