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As a princely seat Bucharest was once, for the Romanian authorities, a citadel watched over by God just like Byzantium was for the Eastern Christian world. Then, naturally, it was also the place where scholars needed by the Prince's Chancellery made their studies. They

Let us not be deceived by articles and books issued by courtesy or for which we pay, and this so seldom. We are not loved abroad. Even if people remember the fine welcome we give people – which is so comprehensive according to the customs, and at times even sufficiently

Among the elements making up the soulful repository of the Romanian people there is none to include more and to bespeak truer than its very language. In connection with this Romanian idiom – which, with due additions, proved apt to voice any idea, no matter how lofty,

excerpt A commonsensical observation anyone could make is that in many of Caragiale's prose pieces the personal element comes out in a very direct manner, in the form of autobiographical reminiscences or fresh diary entries. Here is Caragiale as a child, tolling, together

from Exuviae  I squat in the middle of the room. I find it hard to talk about myself in the past. And today, only a specific kind of music, sometimes, or some dizzying book can make all the multitudes you are made of get along, keep together, come back docilely to your

from A Concert of Bach's Music The Amzei Church had donned a festive appearance. People had started coming as early as three o'clock, and by four – the time of the ceremony – the street was crowded with carriages and automobiles. An archbishop was serving.

excerpts The Diary and Its Readers We should not overdo it with diaries and letters. We usually tend to deem them more revealing of the man than his public work. All that is secretive, familiar draws us as if it were a confession. It is the pleasure of breaking an interdiction,

It is well known that Mircea Eliade lived numerous experiences of otherness and exile in countries such as India, France, Portugal, America, but it is only in the last that he remained for twenty-seven years. Eliade's perspective on America is somehow indebted to the

1945 January 1st Absolutely alone, this Eve. First time ever, I imagine. Listening to the King's speech and to general Rădescu's[i]. Nonetheless, kicked off the evening by a prayer: asked God for PEACE, serenity, calmness. At the depth of my soul: melancholy,

Paris, February 7th, 1939The phone wakes me up: it's George, who calls me from Algiers. He keeps waiting for his plane to be repaired. The thought that he left on an old jade – as he says – worries me. I remember my mother-in-law's words and I agree with her:

I don't know why I haven't written in here for so long. Weary of scrutinizing myself… But tonight I'm happy I've stayed in and read a book (Esquisse d'un traité du roman, Léon Bopp); I'm going to proofread City of Acacia Trees[i]. I've

Titu Maiorescu's diary is an unprecedented publishing event and, in its own way, unique in Romanian literature, by both the nature and value of the notes and by the length in time it covers – 62 years – and by the age of the author who had barely turned 15 when