October 2011
31 posts
2 tags
3 tags
1 tag
2 tags
1 tag
1 tag
When the eyes waggle then will I hear again Dostoevsky’s words, hear them rolling on page after page, with minutest observation, with maddest introspection, with all the undertones of misery now lightly, humorously touched, now swelling like an organ note until the heart bursts and there is nothing left but a blinding, scorching light, the radiant light that carries off the fecundating seeds...
1 tag
3 tags
4 tags
