“I’m already twenty-three, I’ve been working for a long time, and my brain is dried up, I’ve become thin and ugly and old, and nothing, nothing gives me any satisfaction, and time is going on, and I keep thinking I’m moving away from any genuine, free life, moving further and further away, into some abyss. I’m in despair, and I can’t understand how I’m alive, how I haven’t yet killed myself…”
Irina, in Anton Chekhov (1901[2002]) Three Sisters: A Drama in Four Acts, Penguin Classics, p.255 (via enduring-ephemeral)
“MEDEA : Tell me,
How does it feel with my teeth in your heart?”
Euripides, Medea (via elucipher)
“Betrayed and wronged in everything,
I’ll flee this bitter world where vice is king,
And seek some spot unpeopled and apart
Where I’ll be free to have an honest heart.”
MolièreThe Misanthrope (via itsfromabook)

This book changed me. When I first read it, I didn’t really understand, but after studying it in details it hit me. I don’t know if I actually liked it, certainly not, but it changed me anyway.

Happy Birthday, Mary Shelley!
! !

Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

Rainer Maria #Rilke 🌿🌿🌿
“I wandered into the Automat
Wearing a kind of religious hat
The meatballs were round
And the pancakes were flat
I asked G-d in heaven
To keep it like that
- -1970”
"The Old Automat on 23rd St.," a poem by Leonard Cohen from his book Book of Longing. (via leonardcohenminute)

Luigi Pirandello (1867 - 1936) was an Italian dramatist, novelist, poet and short story writer. He was awarded the 1934 Nobel Prize in Literature for his “bold and brilliant renovation of the drama and the stage”.
(You’ll see a lot of Italian writers appearing on Writers at Work these days, since we were featured on the frontpage of La Repubblica and a lot of Italian readers are now submitting their favorite authors. Grazie mille!)

The American poet Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)

Paul-Marie Verlaine drinking absinthe in the Café François 1er in 1892, photographed by Paul Marsan Dornac.
Verlaine was a French poet associated with the Symbolist movement. He is considered one of the greatest representatives of the fin de siècle in international and French poetry.
“If I could cry out of fear in a lonely house,
if I could take out my eyes and eat them,
I would do it for your mournful orange tree voice
and for your poetry that comes out screaming.”
Pablo Neruda, Ode to Federico Garcia Lorca
“Will this love be tremendous or lame?
Will it sustain or pass?
A big one wouldn’t fit a body like this:
It must be a little love, — a baby, sort of,
It shies away when the cars honk and hiss,
But adores the bells on the horse-tram.”
Vladimir Mayakovsky, A Cloud in Trousers