So many stones are thrown at me
that I no longer cower,
the turret’s cage is shapely,
high among high towers.
My thanks, to its builders,
may they escape pain and woe,
here, I see suns rise earlier,
here, their last splendours glow.
And often winds from northern seas
fill the windows of my sanctuary,
and a dove eats corn from my palm…
and divinely light and calm,
the Muse’s sunburnt hand’s at play,
finishing my unfinished page.
- Diego Rivera – The Flower Carrier
- British essayists: Virginia Woolf - Defoe (written in 1919)
- Thomas Hardy Tess of the d'Urbervilles - Human morality and the laws of Nature
- Some thoughts on Pablo Neruda's epic poem "The Heights of Macchu Picchu"
- The Praises and Criticisms of J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye
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