6. prosince 2016

Ernest Hemingway

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6 komentářů:

  1. Anonymní6. prosince 2016 v 15:31

    Sýkorová
    A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

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  2. Anonymní6. prosince 2016 v 15:31

    Martin Bareš - The Killers

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  3. Anonymní6. prosince 2016 v 15:32

    Pavlína Janoušková - The Complete Short Storie - The butterfly and the tank

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  4. Anonymní12. prosince 2016 v 21:57

    Sůva Michal - A Day's Wait

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  5. barboracerna12. prosince 2016 v 22:47

    černá - "cat in the rain"

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  6. Anonymní13. prosince 2016 v 14:09

    The only natural death I’ve ever seen, outside of loss of blood, which isn’t bad, was death from
    Spanish influenza. In this you drown in mucus, choking, and how you know the patient’s dead is: at the end he turns to be a little child again, though with his manly force, and fills the sheets as full as any
    diaper with one vast, final, yellow cataract that flows and dribbles on after he’s gone. So now I want
    to see the death of any self-called Humanist *because a persevering traveller like Mungo Park or me
    lives on and maybe yet will live to see the actual death of members of this literary sect and watch the
    noble exits that they make.

    In my musings as a naturalist it has occurred to me that while decorum is an excellent thing some must be indecorous if the race is to be carried on since the position prescribed for procreation is indecorous, highly indecorous, and it occurred to me that perhaps that is what these people are, or were: the children of decorous cohabitation. But regardless of how they started I hope to see the finish of a few, and speculate how worms will try that long preserved sterility; with their quaint pamphlets gone to bust and into foot-notes all their lust.

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