Blog . Letras . Vic

. Youcenair - Mishima o la Vision del Vacío - 2 VECES . Mishima - El Sol y el Acero (& etc.) - 3 VECES . Blake - Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience - 2 VECES . Youcenar - Cuentos Orientales . Tolstoi - La Muerte de Ivan Ilich . Rulfo - El llano en Llamas . Sontag - Ante el Dolor de los Demás . Bataille - La Religion Surrealista . Christie Mallowan - Star Over Bethlehem . Kant - Lo Bello y lo Sublime . London - El Llamado de la Selva . Shakespeare - Macbeth . Antologia de Cuentos Latinoamericanos . Mishima - La Perla y otros cuentos . Nietzche (Biografia) . Murakami - De Qué Hablo Cuando Hablo de Correr . Murakami - Sputnik, Mi Amor . Balzac - Eugenia Grandet . Wilde - Cuentos y Poemas en Prosa

CLASSICS ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: The Iliad and The Odyssey Homer Set during the Trojan War, The Iliad combines battle scenes with a debate about heroism; Odysseus' thwarted attempts to return to Ithaca when the war ends form The Odyssey. Its symbolic evocation of human life as an epic journey homewards has inspired everything from James Joyce's Ulysses to the Coen brothers' film, O Brother Where Art Thou?. The Barchester Chronicles Anthony Trollope A story set in a fictional cathedral town about the squabbles and power struggles of the clergy? It doesn’t sound promising, but Trollope's sparklingly satirical novels are among the best-loved books of all time. Pride and Prejudice Jane Austen Heroine meets hero and hates him. Is charmed by a cad. A family crisis – caused by the cad – is resolved by the hero. The heroine sees him for what he really is and realises (after visiting his enormous house) that she l...

William Wordsworth, 655 Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 679 Percy Bysshe Shelley, 740 John Clare, 764 John Keats, 768 Edgar Allan Poe, 865 Charlote Bronte, 916 Emily Bronte, 920 Walt Whitman, 927 Emily Dickinson, 1000 Oscar Wilde, 1072 William Butler Yeats, 1089 Robert Frost, 1125 James Joyce, 1150 William Carlos Williams, 1153 Ezra Pound, 1164 Aldous Huxley, 1199

I Am I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am! and live with shadows tost Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life nor joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems; And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best-- Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest. I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smil'd or wept; There to abide with my creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept: Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below--above the vaulted sky Remembrances Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on I tried to call them back but unbidden they are gone Far away from he...

The Female Vagrant (extract) By Derwent's side my Father's cottage stood, (The Woman thus her artless story told) One field, a flock, and what the neighboring flood Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold. Light was my sleep; my days in transport roll'd: With thoughtless joy I stretch'd along the shore My father's nets, or watched, when from the fold High o'er the cliffs I led my fleecy store, A dizzy depth below! his boat and twinkling oar. My father was a good and pious man, An honest man, by honest parents bred, And I believe that, soon as I began To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed, And in his hearing there my prayers I said: And afterwards, by my good father taught, I read, and loved the books in which I read; For books in every neighboring house I sought, And nothing to my mind a sweeter pleasure brought. Can I forget what charms did once adorn My garden, stored with pease, and mint, and thyme, And rose and lily for the s...

Frost at Midnight The Frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry Came loud--and hark, again ! loud as before. The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, Have left me to that solitude, which suits Abstruser musings : save that at my side My cradled infant slumbers peacefully. 'Tis calm indeed ! so calm, that it disturbs And vexes meditation with its strange And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood, This populous village ! Sea, and hill, and wood, With all the numberless goings-on of life, Inaudible as dreams ! the thin blue flame Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not; Only that film, which fluttered on the grate, Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing. Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature Gives it dim sympathies with me who live, Making it a companionable form, Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit By its own moods interprets, every where Echo or mirror seeking of itself, And makes a toy of Thought...