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Category: English Literature


“Everybody is identical in their secret unspoken belief that way deep down they are different from everyone else.” David Foster Wallace.

SugerenciaLa broma infinita, mi columna sobre su biografía.

A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, of a Child in London

dylan_thomas_9-450x450Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

And I must enter again the round
Zion of the water bead
And the synagogue of the ear of corn
Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound
Or sow my salt seed
In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn

12 O’Clock News

vietnam war

gooseneck lamp

As you all know, tonight is the night of the full
moon, half the world over. But here the moon
seems to hang motionless in the sky. It gives very
little light; it could be dead. Visibility is poor.
Nevertheless, we shall try to give you some idea of
the lay of the land and the present situation.


virginia-woolf-120213Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.

Virginia Woolf (1882-1941).


Ode to the theatre

Foto: 'El Jardín del Edén' (Dusan Reljin).

“(Acting movies) isn’t acting; that’s piecework. You’re not human being, you’re a thing in a vacuum. Noise shut out, human response shut out. But in the theater, when you hear that lovely sound out there… it’s as though they’d turned on an electric current that bit you here. And that’s how you learn to act.”

Edna Ferber and GeorgeS. Kaufman.

‘Letters to a Young Actor’, de Robert Brustein.