November 23, 2024 7:09 am

WUTHERING HEIGHTS: Romance, by Emily Bronte

WUTHERING HEIGHTS This woman wrote a single novel, but Wuthering Heights offers you thousands of food for thought, in each of its pages. The suggestion, reading this novel, is to imagine it as a thoughtful and careful reflection on all facets of humanity. No, you will not read a love story any, but the interweaving of love inside the rooms …

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YOU SHOULD NON KNOW THE DESPAIR: Poetry, by Emily Bronte

YOU SHOULD NOT KNOW THE DESPAIR Should not you know despair, if the stars sparkle every night; If the dew falls silent at night, and the sun gilds the morning. Should not you know despair, though the tears to flow freely. Not the years most loved, forever in your heart? Cry, you cry, so it must be. The wind sighs …

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THE DREAM OF THE HORSE: Collection of poems, Maria Teresa Santalucia Scibona

PALIO Vigil in the haze of the night, the heart of Barbaresco suspended. It invokes, in the off hours of sleep, the privilege of fate imponderable. On tuff crumbly, the incessant ritual recurs. They hate the bad quarters, and the dream of victory contention, with violent excitement. The proud spirit of the horse, it yearns in vain for the last …

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WITH EYES CLOSED: Romance, by Federigo Tozzi

WITH EYES CLOSED By reading this book you will know Peter Risoli, a man who has normal eyesight anatomical, but that is not able to see the inner world of Ghisola, the woman he loves. Between the pages, you’ll discover a place where the woman lives – Poggio ai Meli, near Siena – near his house. In those ancestral houses, …

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THE DICE-BOX: Poems in the prose, by Max Jacob

THE DICE-BOX The title (probably inspired by the “roll of the dice” Mallarme), condensing what you see: a set of various elements fused into poetry. This has its own logic that feeds data into the unconscious, inspired by the Romantic poets. This prose poem, is closed on itself, humor and imagination are born by the play of words, but also …

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PARALLELS: Poetry, by Eugene Guillevic

PARALLELS You go, the space is large, there are borders, we want to talk. But what we tell, the other already knows, because from the outset, erased, forgotten, is still the same adventure. In dreams we meet, we love, we are complete. Does it go farther, than in ourselves, or another. (Eugene Guillevic) http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Other-Poems-Eugene-Guillevic/dp/0976844982

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