UE

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,

Today's reader will be disclosed a universe, in this diary, for the reenactment of which one may only draw back on occasional reference points; these, in their turn, might prove incomplete or improper, possibly misleading, directly correspondent with the historical

excerpt THUNDERSTRUCK A few days after having met George Enescu on the road to Peleş, after dinner, I was on my divan smoking a fragrant oriental cigarette next to Princess Maria, resplendent in her long, pink veils; she was knitting without seeing the work, in the semidarkness

After a half-century's wait, in 2000 Aristarc Publishers from Oneşti released a bilingual (French-Romanian) volume by Maria Cantacuzino-Enescu: Ombres et lumières / Umbre şi lumini. Souvenirs d'une Princesse Moldave / Amintirile unei Prinţese Moldave, 926 pages,

Iaşi, July 12, 1942. We get news from Bucharest that Marshal Ion Antonescu is seriously ill in Predeal. All kinds of versions about his disease, general anemia or the consequences of an old syphilis, so he had to undergo malaria treatment. Meanwhile, it seems that the old

January 5, 1940 On Monday I must get down to work seriously and consistently. Apart from this, my life has become unbearable. I don't know what the devil is the matter with me, I feel as if I were growing old and stupid. I suppose I have some obsessions of my own,

*  Sunday, March 31, 1940Rotten weather. I stay indoors and work, bringing my Diary to date. The French and the British hold frequent, definitely long conferences – now in Paris, now in London – attended by militaries and politicians. This incessant activity evinces

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:

Un sot n'a pas assez d'étoffe pour être bon. La Rochefoucauld Let alone the characteristics of the genre, Mihail Sebastian's Diary is a confession about relationships with the other set against the background of rising anti-Semitism between the two World

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

Is a diary sometimes tantamount to confession and, if so, is it, most often, a sincere one? Is it also a means of self-liberation? The most delightful diaries, although usually set off by outside shocks, by major events or dramatic situations, reveal above all the confidential