Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Historical Fiction · Horror · Latin-American Culture · Latin-American Literature · Literature · Paraphrase · Poetry · Quote · Short Stories

Alejandra Pizarnik

Melancholia is, I believe, a musical problem: a dissonance, a change in rhythm. While on the outside everything happens with the vertiginous rhythm of a cataract, on the inside is the exhausted adagio of drops of water falling from time to tired time. For this reason the outside, seen from the melancholic inside, appears absurd… Continue reading Alejandra Pizarnik

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Poetry · Sestina

Marilyn Hacker

Sestina For a week now our bodies have whispered together, telling each other secrets you and I would keep. Their language, harder and more tender than this, wakes us suddenly in the half dawn, tangled dragons on their map. They have a plan. We are stranded travelers who plan to ditch our bags and walk.… Continue reading Marilyn Hacker

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Absurdism · Academic · Autobiographical · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Correspondence · Epistolary · Excerpt · Literature · Paraphrase · Philosophy · Quote

Albert Camus

There are some individuals who have too strong a craving, a will, and a nostalgia for happiness ever to reach it. They always retain a bitter and passionate aftertaste, and that’s the best they can hope for. —  Albert Camus, Correspondence, 1932-1960. (University of Nebraska Press; annotated edition edition May 1, 2003)

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Anthology · Biographical · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Fragment · Historical · Poetry · Russian Futurism · Russian Literature

Vladimir Mayakovsky

If you want, I’ll go meat-mad – and, like the sky, its hues changing – If you want, I’ll be irreproachably tender, not a man, but – a cloud in trousers! —Vladimir Mayakovsky,  from “A Cloud in Trousers,” Night Wraps the Sky: Writings by and about Mayakovsky. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux; First Edition – First… Continue reading Vladimir Mayakovsky

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Classic · Excerpt · Latin-American Culture · Latin-American Literature · Poetry

Alejandra Pizarnik

Days when a distant word takes hold of me. I go through those days, sleepwalking and transparent. The beautiful wind-up doll sings to herself, charms herself, tells herself stuff and stories: a nest made of stiff thread where I dance and lament myself at my countless funerals. (She is her own blazing mirror, her spare… Continue reading Alejandra Pizarnik

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