Possibilities by Wislawa Szymborska

I prefer movies. I prefer cats. I prefer the oaks along the Warta. I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky. I prefer myself liking people to myself loving mankind. I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case. I prefer the color green. I prefer not to maintain that reason is to blame for everything. I prefer exceptions. I prefer to leave early. I … Continue reading Possibilities by Wislawa Szymborska

’T is so much joy! by Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson on the joy of taking a risk and on the paradox in the beauty of loss and in the panic of success. ‘T is so much joy! ’T is so much joy! If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw; Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so This side the victory! Life is but life, … Continue reading ’T is so much joy! by Emily Dickinson

The Black Monk by Anton Chekhov

I ANDREY VASSILITCH KOVRIN, who held a master’s degree at the University, had exhausted himself, and had upset his nerves. He did not send for a doctor, but casually, over a bottle of wine, he spoke to a friend who was a doctor, and the latter advised him to spend the spring and summer in the country. Very opportunely a long letter came from Tanya … Continue reading The Black Monk by Anton Chekhov

About Love by Anton Chekhov

ABOUT LOVE by Anton Chekhov AT lunch next day there were very nice pies, crayfish, and mutton cutlets; and while we were eating, Nikanor, the cook, came up to ask what the visitors would like for dinner. He was a man of medium height, with a puffy face and little eyes; he was close-shaven, and it looked as though his moustaches had not been shaved, … Continue reading About Love by Anton Chekhov

Art needs solitude

“It takes the courage to be there. You run into your own pettiness. Your own cowardice. You run into all kinds of ugly sides of yourself.” There is a history of art and solitude. One cannot exist without the other. A solitary man does not necessarily produce art but, for an artist, solitude is necessary to get closer to his personal truth, to know himself, … Continue reading Art needs solitude

The Red and the Black – Stendhal, Martin Luther King Jr. and Woody Allen

No soul is purely virtuous, none fully corrupted I have heard the name Stendhal all my life. Shameful as it is to admit, I have a degree in Literature and had never picked up any of his work. I had created the very wrong idea that he was a sort of a boring French philosopher, an idea perhaps caused as a result of  a certain pretentiousness … Continue reading The Red and the Black – Stendhal, Martin Luther King Jr. and Woody Allen

Migjeni – Albania’s little big poet

The Songs Unsung Migjeni (Millosh Gergj Nikolla) is considered to be Albania’s national poet of “misery”, partly of his own but mostly that of man, in general. This initially off-putting, yet beautifully accurate, title is the result of his heart-wrenching descriptions of his squalid surroundings. No Albanian poet had neither dared nor cared to tell this particular truth until then. At least not quite in … Continue reading Migjeni – Albania’s little big poet