For

A certain thing a scaly glove a misshapen dangerattracts the compromised words the mist in the world's dictionarieson a mountain of masks the sun struggles to riseits beams are lost from one another for another seasonthe mind is currying favor with all the versions

Across deep seas, through blizzard and storm,And in my heart have I been searching Him,But my cup was meant for sipping pain,And faithlessness was my commander,The life I lived was pure darkness. But lo, my eyes can see You now. The will of nature's God himself,Jehovah's

At the same time, the great Russian also remarked that woman is always what we want to make of her. Femininity triggers off creative energies. Through it, the Author dominates the epic matter, and this helps him complete his plan, plot, work. Femininity delays the end by

from The Lost Letter ACT II SCENE V ZOE(alone; nervous, she takes out the newspaper and reads)In tomorrow's issue of our gazette we shall reproduce an interesting sentimental letter from a notable of our town to a lady of great influence. Beginning tomorrow, the original

Hear the waves rise and fall – memento twilight – the cradle is rocking lonelinesses cricket-heart forgotten in the grasssmall fear – barely startling– the blood falls in the arteries The shells of snails inhabited by the windfootsteps on inner stairs – we resume

 Mioriţa, the most popular Romanian ballad, has its name coming from a rather ambiguous female character, the meek ewe that discloses the plot to her fair master, whose two fellow shepherds plan to kill by the time of sunset, looting his larger and worthy flock. Mioriţa

from The Hatchet I It is the mountain peasant's lot to earn his daily bread either with the axe or with the sheep hook. Those of them that work with the axe fell firs from the forest and take them to the Bistriţa; there they bind them together into rafts and float

from Don Juan CHAPTER VI Sometimes he would run into Tonia by chance. This is one way of putting it, because he often walked the streets close to her house, he went to a beer joint two corners away, sometimes he was in the park nearby speaking kindly, helping small groups

A man is sleeping on a bench in front of the sanatoriumhe's been waiting for his folks like manna from heavenwhite and coiled upfrom the valley he seems to mea lamb biting into the green woodI could go near him, call himjolt him, hug himbut he took everyone out of spaceand

From The Procrustean Bed Add to these criteria of a physical nature the old preconceived idea of talent. As is known, talent is discovered thus: a boy or a girl, choking with stage fright, before a long table at which a commission are sitting, start declaiming Gens Latina

I dreamt we werearound a stone tablewith men long-forgotten –I was there yet absentnonexistent yet alivedrinking with them yet dying with thirst.  Something white fellon the stone tableilluminating our facessomething always putting to shamethe inability to grow.  We

There are masterpieces of musical drama the destiny of which became final in the history of opera owing to singers with a flash of genius. Seemingly, this is how Puccini's Tosca was born, whose protagonist, a superb Romanian soprano from Brăila, lend brilliancy to