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Frank O’Hara

Now That I Am in Madrid I Can Think I think of you and the continents brilliant and arid and the slender heart you are sharing my share of with the American air as the lungs I have felt sonorously subside slowly greet each morning and your brown lashes flutter revealing two perfect dawns colored… Continue reading Frank O’Hara

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Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · Polish Culture · Polish Literature

Adam Zagajewski

No sleep, not tonight. The window blazes. Over the city, fireworks soar and explode. No sleep: too much has gone on. Rows of books stand vigil above you. You’ll brood on what’s happened and what hasn’t. No sleep, not tonight. Your inflamed eyelids will rebel, your fiery eyes sting, your heart swell with remembrance. No… Continue reading Adam Zagajewski

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American Culture · American Literature · Apocalyptic · Classic · Contemporary · Dystopian · Excerpt · Fiction · Paranoid Fiction · Paraphrase · Passage · Post Apocalyptic · Postmodernism · Quote · Science Fiction · Speculative Fiction

Philip K. Dick

[O]nly death can get us out of this and maybe not even death. Maybe it’s too late; we’ll carry this deterioration with us to the next life. — Philip K. Dick, Dr. Bloodmoney. (Vintage; Reprint edition, May 14, 2002) Originally published 1965.

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American Culture · American Literature · British Culture · British Literature · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Imagism · Modernism · Nobel Prize in Literature (1948) · Passage · Poetry

T.S. Eliot

“Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman —But who… Continue reading T.S. Eliot

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Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Poetry · Russian Culture · Russian Literature

Anna Akhmatova

Everything is plundered, betrayed, sold, Death’s great black wing scrapes the air, Misery gnaws to the bone. Why then do we not despair? By day, from the surrounding woods, cherries blow summer into town; at night the deep transparent skies glitter with new galaxies. And the miraculous comes so close to the ruined, dirty houses—… Continue reading Anna Akhmatova

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